Chapter 13 The Sexy Vixen

• Soon, it turned into a biting match.
• Chelsea might be too drunk to know how hard she was biting, but her client was all too aware of his actions. He alternated between bites and nibbles, which sent the ticklish Chelsea into a laughing fit. “No... Don't bite me here. It tickles. Bite here instead...”
• With that, Chelsea pushed him toward her chest and let him do as he pleased. Every bite and suck of his elicited a soft moan from Chelsea, sending the client into an even more excited state of mind.
• No matter how much he tried, the client realized he could never get enough of Chelsea, so he flipped her around and continued to ravage her. “You're quite the little vixen, aren't you? Fine! I'll let you have a taste of my power!”
• The client was so overwhelmed by lust and desire that he could no longer think straight.
• Chelsea, on the other hand, was laughing hysterically for some unknown reason. With the alcohol and lust burning in her, she was carried deeper and deeper into the throes of passion by her client.
• Time went by slowly, yet the couple remained inseparable. Chelsea had lost all sense of time and awareness of what was happening. She vaguely remembered being led to the bathroom before getting pulled back to the bed for more action. Somehow, they ended up on the carpet after rolling about in bed. By then, Chelsea could no longer tell if it was reality or a dream.
• When she finally came to, Chelsea felt like the living dead as she lay motionless in bed.
• The sheets seemed to have been changed, and her body had been wiped clean. There was a burning sensation in her intimate area, but it didn't feel sticky or uncomfortable. Alone in bed, Chelsea glanced at the clock, only to realize that it was already one o'clock.
• One o'clock? Is it one in the morning or afternoon? I remember coming in yesterday at four. So if it's now one in the afternoon, does that mean a whole day has passed? That's impossible! Panic surged through Chelsea as she scanned the room. However, the tightly drawn curtains offered no hint as to whether it was day or night. This time around, the white mask was nowhere to be seen.
• He didn't leave anything behind this time!
• And I still have no idea what he looks like!
• All of a sudden, the door to the room opened, jolting Chelsea out of her thoughts. Amanda walked in with a golden nightgown on a tray and smiled. “Your client is having his meal in the dining room, and he wants you to meet him when you're awake. Do you want to go now or sleep for a while more?”
• Chelsea stared at her in bewilderment. “He's still here? He hasn't left?”
• “Yes! He's still here. I think he might be staying the night too.”
• “He's staying?” Staying the night? That means it must be one in the morning!
• “Why? Is there a problem?”
• “No! No...” Chelsea muttered. She didn't mind having her client stay overnight. But she was in so much pain that if he were to have his way with her again, she might not be able to work the next day. Work was tiring enough, and there was no way she could last the day with her legs feeling like jelly.
• Amanda ignored Chelsea and proceeded to help her up from the bed. However, even getting out of bed proved too much for Chelsea as she winced in pain. Her body was so sore that it was as though she had been in a series of car accidents, and she might fall apart anytime.
• Yet, Chelsea didn't dare to complain.
• Struggling to hold herself up, Chelsea slowly made her way into the bathroom. With every step she took, a clear discharge spotted with blood trickled down her legs, which was evidence of what had happened the night before.
• “Can I take the day off? It hurts so bad!” Chelsea cried out in agony. Just then, she suddenly remembered something that made her shudder. “Ms. Hayes, Ms. Hayes! Please, come quick!”
• Amanda was one of the best service attendants in Femme Fatale, so she was familiar with the workings of the place and had a way with newcomers entrusted to her. When she heard Chelsea's scream, she got so worried that she immediately rushed back into the room. “What? What's wrong?”
• Chelsea anxiously pointed at her stomach and whispered, “Are there any pills here? I forgot to take one yesterday. Is it too late for it?”
• Amanda instantly understood and calmed down, a stern expression once again plastered on her face. “These pills are usually effective for seventy-two hours. You only came in yesterday, so you'd still be safe even if you take it tomorrow. But if you want to take these pills in Femme Fatale, you have to ask your client first. If he says no, I won't be able to give it to you...”