Needed: A BBW Vampire Blood Courtesans Romance

A
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This is a work of fiction. Likenesses to any people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please do so through your retailer’s “lend” function. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at
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N
eeded
, A Blood Courtesans Novella. Copyright 2016, Ever Coming and Michelle Fox incorporating the world created in the publication
Blood Struck
(c) 2013 by Michelle Fox under the brand “Blood Courtesan,” republished as
Reborn
in 2016 and used under license.

Cover Design by Monica La Porta

I
’m a good girl
. I’m a good girl. I’m a good girl.

The mantra of my youth rang through my head over and over again. True, I was no longer a ten year old girl trying to earn the acceptance of my abusive foster mother’s respect, but it was so ingrained, deep within me, that at times like these it surfaced with a vengeance.

Times like these. Ha. That was a joke if I ever heard one. As if there ever was a time like this. Sure there had been times where I needed more money than I had. The moment I aged out of foster care, my “family” kicked me out, or, as they called it, “Allowed me to take the next step in my life.” I had two jobs by nightfall and had begged a couch to sleep on. Times had been tough, but I was on a mission.

My sister needed me and her needs, while vast and far too deep for me to completely fulfill, included money. Money I sacrificed my education for. Sacrificed my comfort for. And more than once, even sacrificed my shelter for. Mary was worth every tear, every night I slept in an alley, every day I went without a meal. And now she needed me again and I was out of options. After today, I would no longer be a
good girl
. I would be a whore. A blood whore.

I stared out the window of the dilapidated bus watching the countryside I lived in bloom into a big city little by little. I hoped beyond hope that I hadn’t made a mistake spending the last of my money on this one-way bus ticket. It was a long shot at best. I didn’t even have place to stay during training,
if
I was picked.

If.
I tried to scrub that word from my brain. This had to work. Courtesans made amazing money. Money that could easily cover Mary’s move to a new facility—one that would actually allow her to be more than just a label. A placement that would teach her the skills she needed to live in a group home with minimal assistance and to even hold down a job. A placement that could help her live a better life. She deserved the best life, but I’d ruined that for her and this was me trying to make amends.

“We will reach our destination in approximately five minutes. This will be our final stop. Please be sure to check under your seat as well as the above storage before you exit the bus and thank you for traveling with Purple-Line Coach.”

The knots in my stomach felt like anchors as I tried to reach below the seat in front of me to grab my backpack. How sad was that? At twenty-three, my only luggage was a beat up backpack from when I was in high school. I gave up on grabbing it before we stopped, out of fear of pukage more than anything else. The last thing I needed was to smell like vomit during my interview and since I had zero dollars for a hotel or even a laundromat, I needed to keep my clothes as fresh smelling and wrinkle free as possible. I hoped beyond hope my deodorant worked on the twelve-hour bus trek because I had one shot to make this all work.

I lurched over as the bus came to a stop, bumping my head on the seat in front of me and eliciting a plethora of
effing A
s under my breath. The knob of the tray landed in the center of my forehead. If it had left a mark, they would most likely turn me away at the door.

Who was I kidding? This far surpassed a long shot. It would take a miracle for them to let me finish an interview, even without the bump.

I grabbed my pack and headed on out of the bus. Most people were gone already, fleeing as soon as the doors opened. Not that it was very crowded. This was a fly-by-night bus company who clearly bought retired buses. Heck, I could see the old silhouette of a dog still visible under the Purple-Line Coach logo.

Pulling the piece of paper out of my pocket, I tried to get my bearings. I didn’t have a phone with GPS, or any phone for that matter, so the scrap of paper with an address and directions was all I had to get me to Madame Victoria’s.

“Outta the way, fatty,” a male voice shouted from behind me.

I knew immediately they were talking to me, yet before I could move, the smelly jerk of a man bumped into me, sending me to the ground, my stockings ripping on the pavement. Normally I would have confronted him about being a Class-A jerkwad, but this wasn’t a normal day. All I managed to do was cry as I walked into the public restroom to investigate the damage.

It was bad. Real bad. I had a bruise forming from where I bonked my head in the bus. My eyes were red and puffy and looked more like I was drugged out of my mind than anything else, and the curls I managed to get in my hair earlier had completely vanished. I didn’t even need a full body view to know I wasn’t going to win Madame Victoria over with my appearance.

“Oh sweetie, you really need some cover up.”

I looked up. Standing next to me was a drag queen, dressed to the nines. At least I assumed she was a drag queen and not transgender because of the fancy sparkly gown and over the top make-up. Not that it mattered either which way, but my town was all about sameness and curiosity scratched at me.

The woman giving me such sympathetic eyes could get a job at Madame Victoria’s based on looks alone. Her teal mermaid cut dress was so out of place in this crappy bus station bathroom. I wondered what brought her to such a location. Bus stations weren’t safe on a good day, and most definitely not safe for people who stand out.

I bit my tongue, holding in the twenty questions clamoring to get out. I know what happens when you ask the wrong thing at the wrong time and had long ago learned to damper my nosiness
.
For the most part, anyway. Okay, not really at all, but I tried, especially in settings as unsettling as this.

“I…” I hiccupped from sobbing so hard and she cracked a small smile. “I fell,” I offered by way of explanation.

“Oh, I saw that sugar.” She was snapping her fingers and I tried unsuccessfully to hold in a chuckle. “Mr.
I am gross and nasty with a pencil dick so I take it out on beautiful woman who I can never have
can suck it. He’s so not worth your tears.” She dug in her purse and pulled out a make-up bag. “Let me fix your face.”

I knew on some level it probably should have offended me that she wanted to fix my face, but honestly, I needed all the help I could get and I gave her a nod. I only had cheap-ass make-up in my backpack, and not much of it at that. Getting gussied up to work two jobs really never made sense to me and I had zero life working eighty plus hours a week, so I never had the need for make-up.

“Thank you,” I whispered as she started removing my make-up with some kind of fancy cloth. “I have some make-up in my backpack,” I offered, secretly hoping she ignored my politeness.

“Pish, I see what you’re wearing, sweetie and my guess is its expired dollar store crap.”

I nodded. She’d nailed it in one. They
were
actually half price at a dollar store, no less, because of said expiration date.

“Where are you going? Do you have time for me to do this right or should I go for quick and acceptable? A girl’s gotta know.”

“I have a job interview at four.” I crossed my toes she didn’t ask me where. There was no way I wanted anyone to know what I was about to do. Especially someone who had been kind to me, even though I was nothing but a stranger.

“Well, that leaves us three hours, give or take.” She put her make-up back into her oversize purse. “I just got back from a gig and have nowhere to be until seven.” A gig. No wonder she looked so amazing. She startled me by grabbing my hand. I tried not to show it, but I was pretty sure she felt it. It wasn’t her that made my initial response to flinch. From what I knew of her, she was amazing, and for some reason I trusted her and I trust pretty much nobody. “Let’s go and get this done right.”

I stopped us just as we reached the door. “I still have to find where I’m going and make sure I can get there on time. My directions say it’s another five miles from here.” I absentmindedly held the paper with the hand she wasn’t holding.

Five miles could easily be walked in an hour and a half, but I needed to arrive smelling not made of evil and drenched in sweat, so I was planning on two hours’ walk time. I also wanted to be sure I found the building early since I had a feeling it would blend in by design, so I needed to tack another half hour on. Then, of course, there was the obligatory arriving fifteen minutes early for an interview rule, making it closer to three hours because you always round up.

“Let me see.” She grabbed the paper from my hand as I was too busy lost in my head trying to figure out timing. I wanted to hide in a hole.

“No—” I reached for the paper, but the damage had been done. I saw the moment the address registered in her eyes. “Really, it’s—”

“Well.” She smiled brightly, catching me off guard. “Aren’t you a bit of unexpectness?” I shrugged my shoulders, not knowing how to respond to that. “If you’re going to work for Madame Victoria you’re going to need to more than a bathroom make-over.” She tugged at my arm as she tried to make her way out the door. “Well? Let’s go.”

“I don’t have any money.” It wasn’t even close an exaggeration. I had less than a dollar in coins at the bottom of my backpack. That was it. I hadn’t expected the security fees for the bus and they drained the last of my food money.

“Did I ask for any?”

I shook my head no.

“Goodness, if a sweet thing like you is going to Victoria, of course you don’t have any money. It’s a given. Come on, we only have a few hours to get you all ready.”

“How…how?” I tried so hard not to open my mouth. I really did, but there was no use. I needed to know. “How do—”

“How do I know about all this?” She held up my scrap of paper. “Where do you think I just came back from looking so amazing? I had a weekend rendezvous with a delicious young vamp.” This revelation had me feeling so much better. She not only looked fine after her time with the vampire, but she seemed happy. Maybe I could make it out of this unscathed.

“You work for Victoria?”

“Heck yeah. How else could I afford to look so fabulous?” She dropped my hand and did a little sashay. She really did look fabulous. “I’m Arabella, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Arabella. I’m Angelica.” Arabella opened the door and I scampered behind her. “Thanks for the offer. I very much accept.”

“Oh sweetie, it wasn’t an offer. I’ve decided to take you under my wing.” And as if to prove her point, she wrapped her arm around me as we walked. I could barely keep up with her, and here she was in a fitted dress and heels the height of stilts strutting along as if this was her normal pace. Who knew? Maybe it was.

“Why?” I asked as we reached the corner, waiting for the walk light. “Why would you do that… take me under your wing?” The inner me was telling me to stop with the questions. They only caused problems. But Arabella was so welcoming and seemed to almost appreciate them so I stuffed that part of me down.

“Because someone did it for me, and I wouldn’t be here to help you if it wasn’t for them.”

A
rabella’s place
was small yet luxurious. It was a quick cab ride from the bus stop. I still couldn’t figure out was why she had been there in the first place. Arabella was glamourous, and the bus stop wasn’t even close. She started by sending me straight to the shower and demanding I leave in the conditioner she set out for a full ten minutes. She also threw a razor my way, told me to make good use of it and winked.

The shower, oh, the shower. From the outside of her building I never expected such decadence. It had three showerheads and they all pulsed hot, steamy water at my body. I couldn’t remember the last time I had such a treat. Tepid water and soap were usually enough to put a smile on my face.

My hair was her first challenge. “Darling, your hair is like spun silk, yet I can see where you put it up each day. The damage those bands cause is criminal.” She huffed and puffed as she pulled my hair up bit by bit, examining the strands. “Let Arabella fix you right up.” With that, she pulled out some shears and went to town. Ten minutes later, my hair was six inches shorter and in glorious layers sitting just below my shoulder.

Arabella moved to clothing next, clothing she said she had just lying around. She didn’t. I caught her pulling off a tag she’d accidentally missed. I had no idea how she did it, but she somehow found me two outfits in
my
size to choose from in less than twenty minutes.

Heck, at my size I couldn’t find two outfits in an entire store most of the time. My curves were rockin’, but they weren’t the easiest to find clothes for without the money to go to a specialty store. I hadn’t paid much attention on my way in. Maybe there was a boutique next door. These clothes weren’t from any discount store, to be sure.

“So which do you think?” Arabella pointed to the two pictures she took of me in the outfits. Both looked amazing. “The purple dress that highlights your delightful rack and displays your neck, or the white blouse with a red skirt that screams ‘innocent… or am I?’”

I groaned and I’m sure my face was a dark shade of pink. I was innocent, alright. Too innocent, from what the information I found online said. They wanted girls with sexual experience, and unless they meant dirty old men grabbing my ass as I walked by delivering someone lunch at the crappy diner I worked at, then I wouldn’t come close to meeting that requirement.

Fake it until you make it was my new motto. I was going to fake experience and hope it didn’t come to that.
That
being sex. Blood was what the vampires wanted and I had that. I didn’t care that urban legend said that sex was part of the deal. Urban legends were often wrong, or so I kept telling myself. Sex was a bridge I would cross if and when the time came.

“I’ll be. You are, aren’t you?” Arabella looked as if I had sprouted an extra ear.

“What, I’m what?” I was pretty sure I knew exactly what she meant, but I was so hoping I was wrong. There was no way I wanted to discuss my sexuality with anyone.

“Innocent.” Arabella gave me a wink as if she feared I wouldn’t know her meaning without it. After a full minute of her intense stare, I nodded slightly. She came over and kneeled in front of me so we were eye level. “On a scale of one to ten, how innocent, sweetie?”

“Zero.” It slipped out and I saw the shock cross her eyes before she schooled herself.

“Virgin?” I nodded. “Third Base?” I shook my head, repeating the action as she asked in succession. “Second Base? First Base? Anything?”

Arabella walked to the bed and picked up the purple dress. “Well then, change of plans. You’re wearing the dress and I am going to tell you everything you need to know about Madame Victoria and how to fool her into thinking you’re ready for the job, which you’re not, for the record. But you obviously need it so I will do all I can to help you get it.”

I got up and hugged Arabella tightly. She was my fairy godmother. One who got you to exchange blood for money instead of the prince, but a fairy godmother, nonetheless.

“There’s nothing that pisses her off more than a vampire bragging about popping a cherry. She says it is bad for PR or some such nonsense, so I will teach you how to get by her interview.” She rubbed small circles on my back. It had been so long since anyone had given me affection and I soaked it in. “After the fact, she won’t fire you because you will have made her a ton of money and the lucky vamp will treasure you.”

“Oh, I’m not going to…”

“Oh, sweetie.” She pulled back and made sure I looked her into her eyes before she began again. “No one is going to force you to, or even pay you to, no.” She bopped my nose like I was a small child and, in this world I was about to enter, I sort of was. “But trust me, you are going to want to. Now up on the chair. I need to cover that bruise and get you all ready to go.”

True to her word, Arabella filled me with advice on what to say and, more importantly, what not to say to Madame Victoria. According to Arabella, there was a fine line between being fresh and innocent and being a bit too loose for her clientele, and I was going to have to straddle that line, at least in appearance.

I twirled around in the three-way mirror for what was probably the fifth time. I barely recognized the woman looking back at me. Arabella was officially made of magic.

“I look, well, I look like a model.” I twirled around once more and giggled like a little kid, but I couldn’t help myself. I had never felt so pretty before.

“You look like you with clothing that fits and a decent haircut.” Arabella pointed to me in the mirror. “Check out those curves.” The whistle she blew startled me and I lost my balance for a moment. “You’re going to have a wait list a mile long.”

“Is that how it works?” The longer I spent time with Arabella the more obvious it became that I knew nothing about what I was trying to get myself into. Not. A. Thing.

“It depends.” She pushed my hair behind my ear, ran back to her vanity and came back with a hair comb. “Perfect. That will keep the hair out of your eyes without making you look younger than you are.”

I looked at the clock. I had a whole hour before my interview. Arabella assured me we were only a five-minute walk away. “So how does it work?”

“First, you need to get the job. And looking like that, I think that is a foregone conclusion.” Arabella picked up her camera and snapped a picture, looked in the viewfinder, smiled, then put the camera down.

“Then you need to train, and you will be paid heavily for that. After that, each case is different.” She gestured to the vanity stool and I took the seat. “I, for instance, have one vampire I see pretty regularly, but he allows me to take other clients.” She kept tilting my head from side to side. I was pretty confident she was just looking for things she could do to improve the “total package,” as she called it. “Now Bob, he never takes on a client more than once and never for more than a weekend.”

“A whole weekend?” What the heck would a vampire want with me or anyone else for a whole weekend? It’s not like we had an endless supply of blood, not without recovery time anyways. “Is that even a thing?”

“Nights are most common.” That filled me with relief. A night pretending to be sophisticated and interested I could handle. “But yes, weekends rank right up there with them and they are where you make bank.”

Focus on the money, Angelica. Focus.

“Weeks are less common, but happen sometimes when they want someone to go on vacation with. Those are great because most of them sleep all day so you get to play tourist on their dime.” Arabella leaned in close. “Now, my vamp will sometimes hire me out for a full month, but honestly that’s too much work. I prefer weekends. Good money and lots of time off.”

“So who is Bob?” I refused to think about what a month with a vampire would even look like. It was just too far outside of my realm of reality. “Will I meet him?”

“You already have, honey.” Arabella’s voice was no longer the sweet high pitched one I had come to know as hers. In its place was a rich and, honestly, quite sexy male one.

“Good to know.” He pulled a picture off of the small table, pointing to the man I now knew to be him. He was so masculine, which surprised me. Not to mention hotter than hot. Holy cow, he was as drool worthy as he was gorgeous. I imagined there was a whole lot to Arabella’s story and hoped to be around long enough for her to share it with me.

She gave me a wink, probably to stop my drooling. I was so honored to be trusted, even if it wasn’t actually a true secret. For all I knew, everyone in the city knew. But it felt good to feel trusted. “Thanks for all of this.” I gave my best model pose, which I’m sure looked nothing like a model. “And thanks for trusting me.”

“You trusted me first, Angel. Now let’s get you to your meeting. Victoria hates for people to be late.” Arabella handed me the small clutch she had me put my ID in. She also snuck in a twenty dollar bill she thought I didn’t see. “Angel will be your name at work. The vamps will love it.”

“Angel.” I tried my new name. It really wasn’t far from my full name, but it felt new and fresh, like it belonged with the woman I saw in the mirror now. “I like.”

We walked the rest of the way to Madame Victoria’s. True to her word, it was less than a five-minute walk, even with the horrible heels I was sporting. They weren’t even half the height of Arabella’s, but keeping from falling was going to be a feat in and of itself. I kind of failed at being a girl sometimes, and heels were one of those times.

Madame Victoria’s was not something you would accidentally find, that was for sure. It was a beautiful old building with absolutely no sign. It looked like a random building in a nice part of town. I’d had a vision of seedy neighborhood with lots of dark allies, filled with homeless people. I definitely watched too many movies at the theater I worked at.

“Here you go, Angel.” She leaned in close. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“Aren’t you coming in with me?” The knots I felt on the bus returned in full force. I was about to make a move that had the potential to change not only my entire life, but also the life of the person who meant the most to me.

“You need to do this on your own. I’ll be home when you’re done and you are more than welcome to stay with me while you get on your feet.” Arabella pressed the walk button at the curb. “Remember, she needs you as much as you need her. Check your clutch before you go in. Best of luck to you,” she called as she began to cross.

I opened the clutch, knowing I would find the twenty dollar bill she’d “secretly” stashed and prepared myself to look shocked for her benefit. The shock that hit my face turned out to be authentic. In the clutch was a key to her apartment, a throwaway phone with her number inside, and the twenty dollar bill.