Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
The idea of being body worshipped up close and personally is a way more intimidating task than I figured it would be. I’ve never been so careful with showering, and shaving, and moisturising than I am as I get ready for him. I make sure my feet are prepped as well as they can be – nails clipped and pumice stone used to the max, before I paint my toenails a cute shade of pink and set off. I make my way to User 3267’s North London apartment in a short little wrap dress, hidden by my long leather coat. I chose stiletto-heeled sandals, and my feet feel the cold for it, but I want to take the tube today – not a cab. I love the atmosphere of Christmas brewing in the streets every step of the way. The lights are so festive, and the chill of the air is so alive.
I try to make the most of the trademark British chill.
Just a few more weeks to go and I’ll be needing beach sandals – not stiletto ones.
I click on arrived when I get to User 3267’s apartment block and get told to buzz the doorbell for number seven. The door clicks open as soon as I do, and I climb my way up the bright, open staircase. Even in the dullness of the late December afternoon, it’s such a lovely, light place – tasteful but not extravagant. Just the kind of place I’d like to live, if I had the money.
But I do now, don’t I? I do have the money to afford somewhere nice, like this.
I shove that thought aside for the moment. This afternoon is about body worship, and a guy who likes foot play. Not for pondering rental options.
The door swings open and User 3267 takes me aback with a sweet, broad grin on his face. He’s a lovely floppy-haired blond guy, and he looks younger than 27, in a shirt and sweater with dark blue jeans.
He’d never be my type in the world outside, but here, now, he’s a treasure.
He presents me with a gorgeous bouquet of roses and lilies that puts Connor’s bullshit bunch to shame. I give him a thank you. They are absolutely beautiful.
“You’re very welcome,” he tells me.
He hangs my coat up with so much care, you’d think it was worth millions, and looks me up and down with such utter admiration I get prickles.
“Holly, I’m so grateful you’re doing me the honour of letting me worship you today.”
Standing with a glorious bunch of flowers in my hand, his sentiment feels kind of weird. He drops to his knees and stares up at me like I’m a queen, and I almost want to tug him to his feet and say don’t worry, it’s cool, you’re great, too, but that isn’t the point of this. I’ve got to get in the zone.
Holly needs to get in the zone.
He stares up at me and I stare down at him. What the hell am I supposed to say?
I clear my throat, give hm a little nod. “You may stand,” I tell him and he smiles at that, rising to his feet and bowing his head in return.
“Please, this way,” he says and leads me through to his living room.
I find a rich burgundy chaise longue waiting there ready for action, right in the middle of the room. It has gold cushions that I fluff up beside myself before I take a seat. It’s quite a majesty.
“May I offer you a drink?” he asks.
“Yes, please. I’d love one.”
“And what can I get for you? I have everything. Tea, coffee, juice, spring water.” He pauses. “And the very best champagne…”
I know what he wants me to take from him.
“I’d love a champagne, please. Thank you very much.”
His whole face lights up, like I’ve granted him a favour, and I want to giggle because it’s so damn cute to watch him dash through the double doors into the kitchen. He uncorks the bottle in a flash, but only pours one glass.
“Are you not having one?” I ask when he arrives back, but he shakes his head.
“No, Miss Holly, this bottle is all for you.” He hands the glass over, and takes the flowers from my side. “I’m sorry, I should put these in water, so they are fresh for you later.”
“That’s no problem.” I raise my glass to him. “Cheers, and thank you.”
We’re both watching each other as he wanders back through to the kitchen and puts my flowers in a vase.
I get another set of prickles at the way he’s so devout with his attention. He’s staring at every move I make, from the way my fingers hold the stem of the champagne glass, to the way I take a sip and swallow. He heads over to me slowly once the flowers are safe, then drops to his knees on the floor by my legs. Very up close and personal indeed.