Chapter One
Tonya glossed her lips and tossed the tube onto the vanity, then bent over long enough to resettle her breasts in the cups of the white teddy. That was better. Now the tops of her nipples peeked above the lace. She let her hands drift down the smooth satin bodice and readjusted the elastic arching over her hips. The teddy fit her well, and it was one of her favorites. The matching satin robe was a wonderful teaser, too.
She glanced at the clock. With one last look in the mirror, she glided out of the bathroom to wait in the parlor. Harrison Walker III was due to arrive within a few minutes, and she wanted to be ready when he walked into the room. She arranged herself on the settee, angled into the corner with her knees crossed, one black spike heel dangling in the air. The position allowed one side of the robe to slide away from her thigh, but still covered the important bits. She rested one arm along the length of the settee, and the second on the side. Men usually responded to her open-armed position because it portrayed confidence, something they usually had in short supply when they walked in her door.
As the minutes ticked away, her anticipation grew. It didn’t matter how many times she did this, each time mattered, and affected her for a long time afterward. She chronicled the meetings in her journal, to be read again years later. Savannah historians would be fascinated and horrified by the names in her little books. She’d read the very first entry she ever made just a few hours ago in preparation for this meeting. It had been with Harrison Walker Jr. twenty years ago. Somehow, it seemed fitting that his son was coming to see her now, at the end of her career.
At precisely seven o’clock, there was a quiet knock on her door. Tonya’s heart began to pound in anticipation. She took a brief second to slick her lips together to smooth the color and draped the silk robe over her crossed thighs before calling for her guest to enter.
Harrison Walker III looked strikingly like his father, blond-haired, blue-eyed, and tall, but she could definitely see his mother’s Yankee heritage in the sharp nose and pale skin. Skin flushed bright red with awkwardness as he stepped in front of her, wide-eyed behind his wire-rimmed glasses. Tonya supposed she should say something to put him at ease, but she had so much fun needling the young ones. She planned to wring every possible bit of enjoyment from this encounter. She took him in slowly, from the top of his neatly combed hair, down his rapidly moving chest to his hips. She stared for several seconds, and the semi-erection hidden by his pressed khaki pants began to grow.
He was already excited. Perfect.
He folded his hands together in front of himself and cleared his throat. Taking pity on him, and satisfied with his reaction, she let her eyes drift down his legs to his loafer-clad feet. Overall, he wasn’t a bad looking kid. A little too nerdy, perhaps. He had a ranginess to him that would eventually fill out into a very nice looking man, but it would be several years yet.
She let the silence drag out, just to see if he would break it, but he didn’t.
“So,” she said slowly, “you must be Mr. Walker. My name is Tonya Hughes. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
Tonya shivered at the sound of his surprisingly deep voice. Her anticipation crept up a notch. Most men didn’t sound this good at forty, let alone eighteen. “Do you have your license, Harrison?”
Fumbling for his wallet out of his back pocket, he flipped it open with a shaky hand. Tonya was amused to see several condoms stuffed into the dollar compartment. The consideration was nice, but they wouldn’t need them. He slid the plastic ID card out of the sleeve and stepped close enough to hand it to her. Tonya read the birth date and confirmed he was indeed eighteen. Today, actually. “Happy birthday, Harrison. This is a big day for you.”
He bobbed his
Tonya glossed her lips and tossed the tube onto the vanity, then bent over long enough to resettle her breasts in the cups of the white teddy. That was better. Now the tops of her nipples peeked above the lace. She let her hands drift down the smooth satin bodice and readjusted the elastic arching over her hips. The teddy fit her well, and it was one of her favorites. The matching satin robe was a wonderful teaser, too.
She glanced at the clock. With one last look in the mirror, she glided out of the bathroom to wait in the parlor. Harrison Walker III was due to arrive within a few minutes, and she wanted to be ready when he walked into the room. She arranged herself on the settee, angled into the corner with her knees crossed, one black spike heel dangling in the air. The position allowed one side of the robe to slide away from her thigh, but still covered the important bits. She rested one arm along the length of the settee, and the second on the side. Men usually responded to her open-armed position because it portrayed confidence, something they usually had in short supply when they walked in her door.
As the minutes ticked away, her anticipation grew. It didn’t matter how many times she did this, each time mattered, and affected her for a long time afterward. She chronicled the meetings in her journal, to be read again years later. Savannah historians would be fascinated and horrified by the names in her little books. She’d read the very first entry she ever made just a few hours ago in preparation for this meeting. It had been with Harrison Walker Jr. twenty years ago. Somehow, it seemed fitting that his son was coming to see her now, at the end of her career.
At precisely seven o’clock, there was a quiet knock on her door. Tonya’s heart began to pound in anticipation. She took a brief second to slick her lips together to smooth the color and draped the silk robe over her crossed thighs before calling for her guest to enter.
Harrison Walker III looked strikingly like his father, blond-haired, blue-eyed, and tall, but she could definitely see his mother’s Yankee heritage in the sharp nose and pale skin. Skin flushed bright red with awkwardness as he stepped in front of her, wide-eyed behind his wire-rimmed glasses. Tonya supposed she should say something to put him at ease, but she had so much fun needling the young ones. She planned to wring every possible bit of enjoyment from this encounter. She took him in slowly, from the top of his neatly combed hair, down his rapidly moving chest to his hips. She stared for several seconds, and the semi-erection hidden by his pressed khaki pants began to grow.
He was already excited. Perfect.
He folded his hands together in front of himself and cleared his throat. Taking pity on him, and satisfied with his reaction, she let her eyes drift down his legs to his loafer-clad feet. Overall, he wasn’t a bad looking kid. A little too nerdy, perhaps. He had a ranginess to him that would eventually fill out into a very nice looking man, but it would be several years yet.
She let the silence drag out, just to see if he would break it, but he didn’t.
“So,” she said slowly, “you must be Mr. Walker. My name is Tonya Hughes. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
Tonya shivered at the sound of his surprisingly deep voice. Her anticipation crept up a notch. Most men didn’t sound this good at forty, let alone eighteen. “Do you have your license, Harrison?”
Fumbling for his wallet out of his back pocket, he flipped it open with a shaky hand. Tonya was amused to see several condoms stuffed into the dollar compartment. The consideration was nice, but they wouldn’t need them. He slid the plastic ID card out of the sleeve and stepped close enough to hand it to her. Tonya read the birth date and confirmed he was indeed eighteen. Today, actually. “Happy birthday, Harrison. This is a big day for you.”
He bobbed his
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