Close enough to feel the Taboo Aura washing over her like summer heat. Close enough to catch his scentâsomething expensive but not cologne, just him, just natural pheromones amplified by supernatural presence.
Close enough to feel the subtle, insidious need to submit crawling up her spine like fingers made of want.
He towered above her despite her heels adding three inches.
When he looked down, she
gulped
visibly, her mind flooding with crystal-clear images from what sheâd witnessedâhis hands on Dominiqueâs throat, the arch of the evaluatorâs back, the sound of screaming orgasms echoing through hidden speakers.
"See that?" He pointed to the Rolls-Royce Phantom parked in Meridianâs front lot, impossible to miss among the other luxury vehiclesâmatte black perfection that made every other car look like toys.
"Thatâs what I drive. Four hundred thousand dollars of British engineering. Thatâs not counting the Lamborghini Veneno I left at home. Or the McLaren. Or the Range Rovers and more."
Catherineâs eyes tracked to the Phantom, and her thoughts screamed:
{Jesus Christ, heâs not lying. Thatâs really his car. How much money does this kid have?}
"So let me ask you something, Catherine." His voice dropped lower, carrying weight that made her breath catch. "Do you honestly think Iâm
here
for
money?"
She opened mouth, closed it, opened again. No response cameâbrain short-circuiting trying to reconcile teenager with supernatural abilities and multi-million-dollar car collection.
He turned to face her fully, and she had to tilt head back to maintain eye contact. The Lust Presence unfurled just slightlyânot full blast, just enough to make her thighs press together involuntarily, enough to make her pulse visible in her throat.
"Iâm not here for your money," Eros said, voice carrying quiet intensity that felt like physical pressure against her skin.
"Iâm here because of my sacred need to satisfy women. To give them what theyâre starving for. What theyâve been denied. What they deserve but canât find anywhere else in this fucked-up world that treats female pleasure like inconvenience instead of priority."
He gestured toward the sprawling beyond the windowâmillion lights representing million stories, million women trapped in million different prisons of expectation and disappointment.
"Out there, Catherine, there are women dying inside marriages that look perfect from outside.
CEOs
who built empires but canât remember last time they felt genuinely desired.
Diplomatsâ
wives who speak five languages but canât translate their sexual frustration into anything their husbands understand.
"Artists
and executives and
doctors
and
lawyers
and professorsâbrilliant, accomplished, powerful women who go home every night to beds where theyâre invisible. Where their needs are inconvenience. Where their pleasure is afterthought at best, complete fantasy at worst."
His voice grew more passionate, and Catherine found herself leaning in despite herself, hypnotized by conviction that radiated from him like heat from sun.
"These women masturbate in locked bathrooms while their husbands sleep, crying because they canât remember last time someone made them feel beautiful. They buy expensive vibrators and feel pathetic using them because technology canât replace being genuinely desired.
"They have affairs that leave them feeling emptier because the men theyâre fucking are just as selfish as the ones they married. They consider divorce but canât because of kids, or careers, or social expectations, or religious pressure, or just fear of being alone."
He turned back to the window, and Catherine followed his gaze instinctively. "Theyâre everywhere, Catherine. Everywhere. Suffering in silence because admitting sexual dissatisfaction is admitting failure somehow.
"Like being brilliant and accomplished and powerful isnât enough if you canât keep your man interested. Like their needs are somehow unreasonable. Like wanting to feel worshipped and desired and satisfied is asking too much."
Catherineâs throat felt tight. Through Plea, her thoughts whispered:
{Heâs describing me. Oh god, heâs describing my twenties. My past marriage. Every woman I know.}
"My means are limited," Eros continued. "I can satisfy dozens, maybe hundreds of women over time just by myself. But thereâs an audience I canât reach alone. Women who wonât risk hiring unknown escorts or talk to some unknown boy whoâd risk her job and Image.
"Womenâ trapped in positions where scandals could destroy careers built over decades. Women whose wealth and status make them targets for blackmail and exposure. Women who need discretion more than they need air."
He turned back to her, and let him See her desire map ignitingâpulse hammering, breathing shallow, skin flushing beneath professional mask that was crumbling like sandcastle against tide.
"Thatâs where you come in. Thatâs where Meridian comes in."
"I donât understand," Catherine said, voice smaller than sheâd like.
"Yes, you do." He smiledânot cruel, but absolutely certain. "Through your
agency,
through your client network, through your reputation and security protocols and vetting processesâI can reach thousands. Women who would never risk random escort but will trust Meridianâs recommendation. Women who need liberation but have no safe way to seek it. Women who deserve to discover what their bodies are actually capable of when touched by someone who understands desire like religion."
He stepped closerânot threatening, but magnetic, gravity well she couldnât escape. "I donât need your money, Catherine. I need your access. Your client list. Your reputation opening doors that would stay locked to random seventeen-year-old claiming he can satisfy their deepest needs.
"I need Meridianâs seal of
approval,
your security infrastructure, your ability to provide discretion that protects everyone involved."
Catherine stared at him, thoughts screaming:
{This is insane. This is the most insane thing Iâve ever heard. And I believe every fucking word.}
"Keep the money," Eros said simply. "Whatever percentage you want beyond my thousand monthly. Use it to expand operations. Improve security. Recruit better female talents and add to your modeling agency. Build the best goddamn escort agency in the world. Or keep it as profitâI genuinely donât care. All I care about is their satisfaction."
His voice grew softer but somehow more intense. "I want to walk into sessions and leave women fundamentally changed. I want them to go home to their inadequate husbands and realize what theyâve been missing. I want them to look in mirrors and see themselves as desirable again.
"I want them to touch their own bodies and remember what pleasure actually feels like. I want them to understand theyâre not broken or undesirable or past their primeâtheyâve just never been touched by someone who actually understands what female satisfaction means."
He leaned against the window, and afternoon light caught him in ways that made him look carved from marble and sin. "You watched my evaluation, Catherine. You saw what I did to Dominique. Woman whoâs broken a hundred men, reduced to begging. Woman who evaluates for living, turned into screaming, squirting, crying vulnerable beauty finding herself and what sheâs been missing all this time, sheâll probably call in sick tomorrow because her body canât handle what I did to it."
Catherineâs breathing had gone ragged. Her thoughts:
{God yes, I saw it. I came watching it. Three times. Three fucking times.}
"Thatâs what I want to give every woman who walks through your doors," Eros continued. "Not just orgasmsâtransformation. Not just satisfactionârevelation. Not just sexâreligious fucking experience that rewrites their understanding of what their bodies can feel. I want them to leave sessions and immediately book follow-ups because they need it like oxygen now.
"I want word-of-mouth to spread through their social circles like wildfire until Meridian has waiting list years long. I want your agency to become legendaryânot just as escort service, but as place where women go to remember theyâre goddesses instead of conveniences."
He pushed off from window, standing to full intimidating height. "So yeah, Catherine. Keep your money. I donât need it. I need your platform. Your infrastructure. Your ability to connect me with women who need salvation but donât know where to find it."
Silence stretched between themâheavy, charged, full of implications that would reshape everything.
Finally, Catherine laughedâshaky sound mixing disbelief and something that mightâve been reverence. "Youâre either the most genuine person Iâve ever met, or the most dangerous manipulator in Miami. I honestly canât tell which."
"Does it matter?" Eros asked, smiling. "If the end result is women leaving sessions satisfied beyond anything theyâve experienced? If your agencyâs reputation becomes legendary because every client I see becomes walking advertisement for Meridianâs excellence? If women start whispering about the teenage god who works for Catherine Reynolds and changed their entire understanding of pleasure?"
Through Plea, he heard her final thought before she responded:
{No. It doesnât matter at all. As long as he delivers what he promises. And after what I watched today... I think he might actually be capable of it. God help us all.}
"Alright," Catherine said, voice steady despite everything. "One thousand monthly. Youâre officially insane, but Iâm not going to argue with insanity that looks like yours."
She extended her hand.
"Welcome
to Meridian Elite, Eros Velmior Desiderion. Letâs change some lives."
He took her hand, and even that simple contact made her shiver.
"Letâs liberate some goddesses," he corrected, smiling.
And Catherine realized sheâd just hired either a savior or a cult leader.
Possibly both.
Through Plea, one final thought whispered from her mindâquieter than the others, more vulnerable, tinged with desperate hope:
{I hope he liberates me too.}
Oh, Catherine, I cannot leave here without doing that...
Time to remind Madisonâs aunt what pleasure is.