CHAPTER 1:71 Happy Endings # Grimm
CHAPTER 1:71 Happy Endings # Grimm
“That is a looonng, story.” She promises, eyes wide, with a nod and full animation on just how dramatic it is. I’m used to people who are so closed off and reserved. Having to fight every step to get a fraction of the emotion and honesty, she’s displayed so willingly the past five minutes.
“I’m paid by the hour, so longer the better.” I was hoping the smooth response would encourage her, but she twists her lips, pulling in her expressions and thoughts instead. I mean, I do know it. Parts at least, and I’m sure it is so much more rather than less interesting than what I’ve imagined.
“Oh no. I couldn’t....I don’t want to take advantage!” There’s real upset and concern here. “This was a really nice gesture, even if I don’t understand it. I don’t even know why I accepted this....” She questions herself again.
“I mean, I didn’t really accept this, he just informed me it was happening…..” Again there is that adorable internal battle of morals.
Morals of all things in a mobster’s palace.
“You may be used to the fancy people’s habits, but I’m sooooooo not,” Nyx decides, a little past tipsy, after finishing her third glass.
I appreciate that she’s a bit looser. Willing to talk more, and can’t help but chuckle at how adorable she is in her obvious nerves.
I’m the one he calls for people he really wants to make an impression on. Can’t say that it’s often, but I get why he made an offer he knew I wouldn’t refuse.
Our last interaction didn’t go well, and I’m assuming that this is his way of making up for it, as much as he’s reassuring me he has no ill intent.
It’s obvious that she works and works hard for a living by her muscle tone and hands. There is also clear and shinning innocence in those baby blues.
The only reason I’m in this room, rather than the hall with her clear nipping conscience, is because she’s considerate.
“What did Dracula tell you was going to happen?” I ask, moving to grab my own glass of champagne. Her eyes still aren’t meeting mine, but do flick over my body and my features when she thinks my attention is elsewhere.
“Well, he just said that my massage came with a happy ending. I’ve never had a massage in my life, but I still have access to the internet.......
I mean, especially after almost a year of not having sex, I’ve watched every type of porn there is.... Well, reasonable types or.... non-gross types.. or......” I feel my eyebrows lift.
Oh, the stories she has yet to tell. We’ve got time, and I encourage her to another drink. Like with most people, the more plastered they are the looser their tongues.
Now I’ll let her sober up before we get down to it, but I’m actually more intrigued to hear her tale than I am sex at the moment.
“Even if there weren’t the whole sex for money thing hanging over my head, it means getting naked with a stranger and that’s just..... not relaxing.” It’s a clear and resounding decision.
Again, one of the many mysteries I intend to unravel this evening. I imagine I’m looking at her much like a rubix cube. Willing her to give me that perfect equation that will let me line up all the dotted sides to match.
“Think you might have gotten the wrong impression. I’m sure my comment didn’t help. Give me that foot, and I’ll explain a bit better than he did.” I look at her sparkly painted toe, and she lifts her brow hesitantly, giving into my request.
Like my hands are ice-cold water, she’s not sure she wants to dip her toe in.
“Massage is as much therapy as anything else. If you’re not relaxed and enjoying it, it’s kind of a moot point.” I see a bit of surprise when my fingers start working on the soles of her feet.
The cutie is sensitive and likely ticklish, so I’ll have to watch my pressure.
“Happy endings just mean release. Whether that’s physical, mental or emotional. You’d be surprised how many people talk or just cry on my table to unwind. Masseurs are kind of like bartenders and hairdressers, the people that have heard and seen it all. We’re much cheaper than psychiatrists.” I add with a chuckle and see the curiosity overcoming the nerves in her beautiful features.
While I loved Nyx biting her lip, it was distracting and didn’t let me see just how lush and ripe her mouth is. The layers of her sun colored hair angle around her face, but that mouth and those too large eyes softening to a smile make her that deadly combination.
“So you’ve heard of the client, making out with a CEO in the elevator to get away from a deranged stalker because her brother set her up on a blind date with a man who believed he was a fictional character in the hopes of getting her laid after setting her up with a married man?”
I chuff my laughter. “Oh, this is going to be good....” I tug her a bit closer. “No, I haven’t heard it and can’t wait.”
Actually, I have.
I’ve heard every conversation she’s had since moving to Haven, being the one to set up the program to let Rick listen in on the calls I fed him.
Stalking, voyeurism.... None of it’s my thing, but even before Lucian asked, there was just something so different about her.
Something so reassuring and hot about Rick taking her on and watching over her....... She’s all I could think about. Imagining what or how she might actually be outside of those moments, and it’s more.
So much more than I ever imagined.
A ‘bad’ break up and moving to the city, with a wife walking in on a cheating husband, is common. Her brother, signing her up for a dating app, isn’t unheard of.
The whole debacle that follows, however, including running through the city streets to avoid deranged lunatics such as non-con honking clowns, has me laughing even harder than the first time I heard the story.
“Oh, Nicky definitely does all of this as a source of entertainment,” she says and for the first time in a long time, my guards are down as we share worst first date experiences.
We go on about odd tics and habits. Things we both seem to do, and she mentions her best friend George Washington. Always down for a cause and telling her to own her inner Aspie. As ASD is considered a disability, and her so wanting independence and not being judged.
I see how much she’s struggling with what to do on that.
From the list of symptoms we pull up on the web, I’m half convinced I have it. I’m pretty shocked to find that she’s a doctor, with how emotional and heartfelt she seems. It’s the best night I’ve had in forever.
The woman is hilarious, genuine and knows how to roll with the punches. It’s two hours of me doing nothing more than rubbing her tense, overworked legs and me doing some online tests with her.
Mid-comparison to her priest with turrets and my nun in a strip club story, she gets a text. Laughing and showing me it’s another polish suggestion from Ginger. “I’m so lost on fashion,” she admits.
“As messed up as it is, my current polish is her recommendation.” It’s a hunk of flip phone, but it gets her closer, almost against me while I work on her hands.
There is still that shyness and sweetness with the fruit on her breath. We both stopped drinking a while ago, and I know the attention she’s giving my lips is based on attraction rather than alcohol. I can’t resist falling in.
This has nothing to do with the job. It’s so far from my mind at the moment. Her small moan when I deepen the kiss, sliding my tongue on the seam of her lips, is maddening. The raw hunger, willing surrender as she moves to straddle my lap has me dizzy……