The Naughty List Read Online Jade West

Categories Genre: BDSM, Erotic, Kink, Taboo Tags Authors: Jade West Advertisement

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Talking of The Agency circle… I check my phone as a message pings. I’m already grinning as I click to read it.

Back at your place yet? Is it good to be home?

I’ve been messaging Josh – the entertainer Weston – every day since The Agency Christmas party before I flew out to Sydney.

Yeah, I’m back in my room. I wouldn’t say it’s good. Kitchen looks even worse than when I left it, which is saying something. I haven’t even braved looking at the bathroom yet…

I wait for his reply, staring at the typing icon.

Not long left now. You’ll be in your very own penthouse suite before you know it.

I hope so, I type, with a fingers crossed emoji.

My friend and fellow-entertainer Ebony is coming with me to view the places on offer tomorrow, once I’m done with my proposal, and no doubt she’ll be quizzing me hard about Josh, as well as giving her opinions on interior decor.

I don’t quite know what I’ll say to her. I’m still churning over the answers myself.

Am I addicted to the real Josh, or to Weston, the hardcore entertainer? Is this real, or am I projecting the love of my life onto a man I barely know?

This could easily have red rebound flags flapping in the wind all over it from the word go.

I’ve never really done dating. Not since I was a teenager in love with Connor – my only ever partner before he left me for a groupie called Carly last October. I guess I have her to thank for the opportunity of being Holly at all, since I’d never have fucked anyone else if Connor hadn’t left me high and dry, with nothing but pasta and debt to my name.

She’s welcome to him. The wannabe rockstar can have someone else cheering him along on his road to glory. More fool her.

You’re out on a proposal tonight, right? I type to Josh.

I’ve got two, actually. One dirty quickie, then onto the main event. It’s going to be a rough one. I’ll be feeling it for days.

Another bout of weird hits my guts. I’m talking to a new guy I’m schoolgirl crazy over about how he’s going to be fucking people later, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

How about you? he asks. You’re booked tonight too, aren’t you? That was ambitious.

Or stupid. I get a lurch at the thought.

I had motive in my madness. The client is into somno. He wants a sleeping beauty to slip into bed with while she snoozes, oblivious. I guessed I’d fit the bill just perfectly after my flight.

Cool, Josh replies with a wink emoji.

Cool that I’m getting fucked by a stranger in a hotel room tonight. Damn, it’s so strange.

There are so many questions I want to ask him about the clients he’s going to be with later. What are they going to be doing to him? What does a rough one mean?

He pings me another message through.

You’ll be a sleeping beauty, pretending or not.

Thanks, I reply, and almost go for the heart emoji, but avoid it. Too soon. Much too soon. We’re still at the grinning face stage, or occasionally heart eyes. No full-on heart emojis yet.

Another message comes through.

Tiff says somno is a great choice for night one, BTW. She’s pissing herself, given how knackered you are.

Ah, so he’s with Tiff. Creamgirl. The idol I’ve been looking up to ever since I saw her profile on the entertainers list. No surprise since they live in the same apartment block, over in Belgravia. One of my viewings is in the block across from theirs tomorrow, and it looks amazing… but yet again, is it too close, too soon? An unfortunate coincidence, or destiny calling?

I push the thoughts aside and focus my limited attention on staying awake. Sleep time is for this evening, not for this afternoon. A nap would prove fatal.

I sort out my case, unloading all my clothes, toiletries and trinkets from overseas, which is quite a major job, and quite a boring one. I empty the filter on the washing machine before I dare to put any dirty clothes in there, since the mould would be a lot more toxic than Sydney sweat. The whirring rhythm of the washing machine spin doesn’t help my energy levels, but I do my best to stay conscious, I even stick my head out of the window to get some fresh air. But it’s hard. I’m fading fast.

I’m relieved when a fresh message pings, cutting through my haziness. I expect to see Josh’s name, but it’s from an unknown number. I sigh out loud, because here we go. Yet again.

Speak to me, please. I made a mistake, ok?! Come on, Ells, please. Just hear me out. I’m begging here. I love you.

This one has plenty of heart emojis after it. Another message from Connor the jackass. He must have texted me on at least ten different phones these past few weeks.

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