I stare at the second hand on my Breguet 18k white gold retro watch as it ticks slowly by. Mother is droning on  about  a  gala  to  Tinsley  while  Perry  adds  his  two  cents.  Nate,  my  wingman whenever I’m forced to have brunch with my family, cheerfully asks my mother a million questions, which I know thrills her to no end. Vivian, Elaine, and Keaton all stare at their phones, wishing away the

minutes, much like I do.

“That’s great, Mother,” Perry rumbles. “Right, bro?”

When Keaton doesn’t answer, I cut my gaze to my obnoxious younger brother. “Pardon?”

Tinsley rolls her eyes at me, and Mother smirks. Perry’s blue eyes that match mine exactly, sparkle with mischief. He may be an adult, but he’s still every bit a child to me.

“Her idea about your birthday party.” Perry leans back in his chair, curling his arm around Mother’s shoulders as if to claim her as only his.

Mother preens a little at her son’s attention. “Oh, darling,” she coos. “Winston doesn’t care about such things.”

For fuck’s sake. Here we go.

“I care, Mother, but I’m not Tinsley,” I grind out, ignoring my sister’s huff of annoyance. “I don’t need you to invite half the city and throw an extravagant ball like her coming out party. But, if that’s what you wish to do, I’ll be there in my best tux. You know I always appreciate your efforts to make me happy.”

“Of course you do,” Perry placates. “Our mother spoils us. It’s why I want to spoil her in return. That reminds me, Winston, I’m going to need five hundred grand.”

Keaton snorts, and Vivian laughs.

“Perry, baby, you know you don’t have to buy me a thing,” Mother says with a laugh. “Your father left me all this.” She waves a manicured hand toward her palatial estate,  also  known  as  the  Constantine Compound. “And I have you children who indulge me in frequent Saturday brunches. What more could a mother ask for?”

Elaine pretends to gag, making Nate stifle a chuckle from beside me.

“How about a trip to Barbados with her favorite son?” Perry asks, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Suck up,” Keaton mutters under his breath.

“Children,” Mother admonishes, though she clearly loves the attention and banter. “Behave, please. We have a guest. I’m sure, Perry, that Winston will get you the money you need.”

“For the record, a trip to Barbados doesn’t cost half a million,” I grit out. “My guess is it’s another ‘investment.’”

Perry’s face burns crimson, his blue eyes flickering with fury. “My investments always pan out.” “Not what Harold says,” I toss back, reminding him we share the same accountant.

“Enough business,” Mother chides. “Talk it out over lunch next week, boys. Today, I want us to celebrate.”

As Mother dives into whatever it is she really brought us here for, my thoughts roll back to Ash. That girl hasn’t left my mind since she sat up on my desk last night. I rubbed one out in the shower later with images of her wet panties seared into my brain. My mind has been whirring ever since as I come up with a million different things I want her to do.

My phone buzzes on the table. I pick it up to discover it’s an email with a phone number and other information on Ash Elliott from Deborah. Deborah is a hound when I need information, uncovering everything I could possibly want. In her email, she included a picture of a charming five-bedroom recently-restored three-point-five-million-dollar brownstone in Brooklyn.

With a home like that, she certainly doesn’t seem the type to need the money, but color me intrigued.

Ash Elliott was accepted to Columbia University and is set to attend in the fall. No scholarships or loans in place, which means it’s being privately paid for. She just turned eighteen two days ago and lives with her father, Baron Elliott, and her new stepmother Dr. Amanda Mannford.

Interesting.

I’ve seen Dr. Mannford plenty in my circle. She’s a highly sought-after plastic surgeon to the stars and other elite. It’s clear Baron married into her money.

So why does Ash slum it as a maid for FGM Services?

Furthermore, why did she let me defile her for the promise of a few hundred bucks? I’ll find out.

After thanking Deborah for the information, I shoot a text to Ash.

Me: Did you set up Apple Pay?

The response is immediate. Kids these days always have their phones. Ash is absolutely a kid, too. The girl is only two days into adulthood. I’m a sick fuck, because her youth turns me on. I’m so used to the spoiled socialites Mother continually tries to set me up with that Ash is a breath of fresh air. Cherry- scented air.

Ash: I already had it set up. I smirk at her sassy response. Me: I want my picture.

Ash: Send me the money first.

Me: You don’t trust me? Fine. I’ll send it first this time, but the other times you’ll be expected to perform before you get paid.

Quickly, I shoot a grand to her. As soon as it’s confirmed, I send her another text.

Me: Don’t keep me waiting, little girl.

She only takes a moment to respond. The picture comes through making my dick thicken in my slacks, which is annoying considering I’m having brunch with my family. Her dark hair is piled up messily on top of her head, and she’s once again makeup free. The camisole she wears is pale pink, and I can see her nipples through the fabric. As requested, she has her middle finger between her lips and she’s wearing the bitchiest expression known to man.

Fuck.

“Damn,” Nate mutters from beside me, leaning over to get a better look. “Who’s the hottie?” I flip my phone over and shoot him an icy glare. “My maid.”

“Goddamn, Constantine. All my maids are like sixty and ugly as fuck. Lucky sonofabitch.” He playfully elbows me. “If you ever want to share, I have some pipes for her to clean.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I grumble. “Excuse me.”

Though my mother shoots me a pointed look, one  that encompasses irritation and disappointment, I leave the table and walk back into our stately home. I weave through the house until I find one of my favorite places to hide out in. Dad’s old study. When I was a boy, I spent many hours in here with my father, aching to be just like him.

I sit in his leather chair, inhaling the lingering scent of cigar and bourbon. I’ll never admit it to anyone, but I miss him. He was my idol and best friend. His death was hardest on me, though I’d never tell my siblings that.

Now that I’m alone, I reply to Ash. Me: That wasn’t so hard, was it? Ash: Lose my number, creep.

Me: You can’t get rid of me now. Not when I know how wet your panties get when you’re embarrassed. Are they wet now?

Ash: No.

Me: Do you want them to be? Ash: NO.

Me: I’ll send you a hundred dollars for every selfie you send me.

She doesn’t reply. A few minutes later, she sends me three in a row. She’s taken the time to write a message on pink sticky notes for each one. Fuck. You. Asshole.

Me: Cute.

I shoot three hundred dollars to her.

Me: What embarrasses you, Ash? Nudity? Dirty talk? Being told to do certain things? The more I know, the easier this will go.

Ash: I’m not ashamed of my body.

Me: You shouldn’t be. It’s hot as fuck. What about fucking yourself with objects? Does that embarrass you?

Ash: I can’t with you.

Me: You can, and you will. Because, little girl, you may live in a three-million-dollar home, but you’re poor as fuck. Your new stepmommy not giving you an allowance? You need my money, and I need your services.

Ash: You’re a real asshole. Can’t get dates with normal women because you’re such a freak?

Me: I could have any woman I wanted. They don’t intrigue me like your unruly ass does. I’m quite enamored with the possibilities between us. I’ll send a car for you at seven to bring you to my apartment for dinner. We can play then.

Ash: I’m not coming over.

Me: Two thousand dollars says you will. Ash: This is insane! You’re insane!

Me: No, Ash, it’s not insanity. It’s boredom. When you’re rich as fuck, not much excites you anymore. When you find something that does, you obsess over it. You, my child, are my newest obsession.

She doesn’t respond after that.

It doesn’t matter, though. She will get in that car, and she will come see me because money talks. Lucky for me, I have endless supplies of it.