Deep in You - Page 8

“Great!” I cry as I quickly tap the Reply option as fast as possible and try to close the window before she sees the message.

Unfortunately, the screen is tricky to work, and the website’s auto response buttons are a little finicky. I hit enter just as I realize that I tapped on the scroll selection again. This time, as I watch it hit send, my mouth drops open. I accidentally selected 8PM Booking instead of the No Thanks option.

“Shit,” I gasp.

“What?” Lara leans over my shoulder to squint.

An automatic popup appears.

Thank you for booking with Here to Serve. Your appointment has been set for 8PM. will meet you at the address in your profile section unless otherwise specified.

I’m too busy staring open-mouthed at that response to register Lara reading over my shoulder until I hear her faint intake of breath.

“Is this… what I think it is?”

“Um… Depends if you think it’s what you suggested earlier or not?” I chew on the inside of my cheek. “Dammit, I didn’t mean to select that option. How do I cancel it?” I tap on the screen frantically, searching for other options. There’s not even an option to reply to the message, let alone change my preferences. “Oh my god, I can’t go through with this, I put in way too much detail.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Lara starts. She pats my shoulder to get my attention.

I’m too busy freaking out at the phone to notice. “Crap, I have to cancel this—”

Lara snatches the phone from my hands before I go too far over the deep end. “Relax,” she tells me, and then she takes over searching for me.

I stand hovering over her shoulder, lips pressed into a thin hard line, as I watch my friend hunt for a way to cancel the appointment I just made with an escort for tonight.

We find a contact button at the bottom of the page, but their hours are listed as 9am-5pm, and it’s already past 5.

We reply within 48-72 hours, guaranteed! It proclaims cheerily.

“Shit,” I swear again.

“Hey, don’t worry.” Lara rests a hand on my arm. “It’s a simple fix. He’s coming to you, right? So you just meet him and say it was a mistake, and ask to cancel. Worst comes to worst, you might have to pay him some kind of cancellation fee or something, but that’s all. It’s not worth panicking over.”

I can feel myself nodding. “You’re right, yeah. I’ll just tell him it’s a mistake.”

Lara searches my face for a moment to make sure I’m not still secretly freaking. Then she breaks into stifled laughter.

I narrow my eyes. “What?”

“I can’t believe you did it, that’s all,” she chuckles.

“You told me to!” I protest, elbowing her.

“I was joking.” She rolls her eyes and passes the phone back. “Though hey, maybe this will help after all. I mean you do need to get laid, so… And who knows? Maybe he’s into your same secretive desires.”

My cheeks flare bright red yet again. I elbow her once more for good measure and tuck my phone into my pocket. “So not funny.”

“This coming from the girl who just hired an escort for the evening.”

If I could melt into the floor right now and disappear, I would. “If you tell anyone about this, I swear to god—”

“Oh come on.” Lara hooks her arm through mine and squeezes me to her side, trying and failing to placate me. “Who the hell would I tell? You’re the only person I talk to these days anyway. You’re turning me into just as bad a workaholic as you are.”

I snort, but fall into step beside her, headed back toward the kitchen. Just a few more hours here. And then I have to head home and…


I shake my head. No. I’m not getting dressed up or anything to meet this guy. I’m just going to open the door, tell him it’s all a big misunderstanding but no thank you, and then go to bed early.

Clearly I am sleep deprived. It’s the only explanation for the insane decisions I’ve made so far today.

Hopefully after a long shower and time to consider my life choices, I’ll make better ones tomorrow, I think.


Less than fifteen minutes until my escort is due to arrive.

Despite the promise I made to myself, I’ve gone and dressed up. Well, okay, “up” is an overstatement. But I’m in a skirt and a cute T-shirt, and I showered and did my hair for the first time in longer than I can count. I even dusted on some foundation and a touch of mascara. Just in case. It makes me feel a little less nervous, to know that I look decent.

Only a little less, though. Most of my nerve endings feel like they’re on fire, and my stomach is set to churn itself right out of my body.