Looking at her like she was the dumbest person ever, so I told her. “He is your guest, and you will treat him accordingly.”
“But why is he MY guest? What does he want from me?” She stuttered out.
“Who the f**k do you think I am? When did it ever become OK for you to question me? I will say this once, so you better f*****g listen and listen well. The client, Max, can do whatever the f**k he wants. He paid a handsome amount of money to spend the hour with you.” I stated plainly, thinking she would understand better.
Her face went pale. “Paid for me! What did he buy? I am not for sale. He can not just buy me like I am an object.”
I laughed at the fear that was plainly written all over her face.
“You are for sale, because I said you were for sale. And he bought you. He can
