A Taste of Utopia by L. Duarte Read Free Book Online Page B

friend is paying me to pop her proverbial cherry. Not only is it her first time with an escort, but it’s also her first time, period.
    Unbelievable. Where has romance gone? Why would someone pay to have a first experience?
    I shake my head, trying to organize my hazed and drunk mind. “It’s fine. We don’t have to. No one’s first time should be like this,” I finally say.
    A mixture of disappointment and relief battles on her face. “I guess I’m being ambiguous. Sorry. I’m awkward, and this isn’t a conversation I usually have with anyone.”
    “You don’t have to explain yourself. You can think about it.” I forge a smile. “Perhaps another day. You can call me at any time.” Kill me for saying these words. But I am an escort, not a jerk. She apparently changed her mind. I won’t pressure her. Though I wonder if I’ll ever recover from this case of blue balls.
    “It’s just that . . .” Her chest rises up and down as she inhales deeply. “I know it’s silly and outdated. But um, my mom—I adore my mom,” she clarifies as a way of justification. “She’s my hero. And all I ever wanted was to be like her. And, um, don’t laugh. Shit, this might sound weirder when I say it than when I think it.” She’s rambling and that’s so adorable. “Well, she married as a virgin. And all I ever wanted, dreamed, was to do the same. And I thought I was ready to let go of the stupid idea. Because, seriously, who has such an old-fashioned dream? I mean, this isn’t the eighteen hundreds where virginity is looked upon as a virtue or prize that a man has to register a woman under his name to conquer and stake a claim on. No longer does that tiny piece of flesh dictate the value of a woman . . .”
    Words continue to flow out of her luscious lips like water rushing out a broken dam. Our pinkies, between us, stay linked. Meanwhile, a frenzy descends upon my body. An urgent need seeps through my pores embedding in the depths of my soul.
    I watch her in wonder and awe. Stronger than the need to have sex with her is this new desire to give the woman in front of me every desire of her heart. Out goes self-preservation, self-control, and rational thinking. A primal part of me takes charge. I want two things at this moment. One is to ensure Lottie gets all she wants in life. The other is to sink into her depths and taste her innocence.
    “What I’m trying to say is: I’m a virgin. My dream is to marry a virgin. Like my mom.” Her eyes cast down as if ashamed of something so beautiful and pure.
    And I know in my heart of hearts that I’ll do anything to make this woman mine, and most importantly, to make her happy.
    “Marry me.” My palms cradle her face forcing her to look at me.
    Her guileless eyes peek up at me. Lottie is simply captivating. Her unworldly innocence is not only rare, but also fascinating.
    Her lips part, but she doesn’t utter a single word.
    “Marry me. We’re in Vegas. Before the end of the hour, we can go back into that room and consummate our marriage.” Am I serious?
    “Are you, are you serious?” She vocalizes my thoughts.
    No, just batshit crazy. “Dead serious. Say yes. Say you’ll marry me.”
    “Okay. I mean yes. Why the hell not?” I can see she’s as surprised with her answer as I am with asking her.
    Oh, well. Above and beyond the line of duty. “First we need a ring. No, we need a license,” I say, strolling across the room to snatch my phone from the dock.
    “Are they open, this time of the night? What time is it?”
    I scroll down my list of friends until I find Jeremy’s number. “Well, it’s Vegas, baby.”
    Jeremy answers on the first ring. “This better be fucking good, Seth.”
    “I’m getting married,” I tell him.
    “Fucking great! Not only are you dashing my dream of turning you into my sex slave, but also you are waking me up in the middle of the night. What the hell, dude?”
    “Congratulations would have sufficed, douche. But here’s the