HAZEL DREAM 2/4

"Something on your mind?" Valerie discerned the deep and croaky voice addressing her aloof presence. She jerked her head to the driver's seat, revealing her nibbling nether lip to the man reeling the steering wheel of his fancy car she hadn't learned the name of yet, entrapped by stress.

When she noted his drop-dead-gorgeous face focusing on the road, yet taking the liberty to side-eye her, concerned for her, she felt touched, obligated to respond optimistically so the mood between them won't evaporate into thin air; the mood she's worked so hard to build since the moment he surprised her…

"Nope!" She said, flexing a huge grin.

"Why were you at the hospital? Someone hurt?" He asked.

"Good question, Daddy," Valerie smirked, loosing the seatbelt hugging her chest to reposition in her seat, torso twisting to the side to meet him, sitting criss-cross on the leather cushion, making herself at home on their first date as if she was prepping herself for a grave ordeal. "Why were YOU at the hospital?" She dared, her cutely fierce gaze not leaving Hugh's side profile, his sharp and refined jawline, his sharp and celestial nose, his thin-plump lips. "How did you find me?"

Hugh was too preoccupied with the road to fully appreciate her confrontation. He never intended on answering, until he realized the silence being dumped between them. He side-glanced her, before eyeing the road once again, shaking his head with a slight smirk.

Ha, Valerie was not backing down anytime soon. Being shy was definitely not in her vocabulary, as it seems every woman to ever meet Hugh's eyes relentlessly shied away. Valeria must have been the light of the party, unable to read the room and seducing them with her innocence and down-to-earth attitude.

Amused by her boldness, he chuckled, one hand driving the steering wheel now, the other hand caressing his chiseled chin in mediation. "You're a curious little petal, hm?"

"P-Petal?" She asked, her eyes widened like a curious puppy. But she was taken aback when he reached out his hand to caress her cheek, his thumb gliding her skin. Perhaps she was touch starved. Or perhaps his touch was just that electrocuting, either way, she found herself shuddering, nuzzling into his hand.

"Means you're part of a flower," he explained.

"Right, because us as a whole is a flower, so I'm part of it— wait, you didn't answer my question!" She giggled, cheeks flushed red. "Gosh, you're so devious, dodging my question like that~" she shoved a soft fist into his chest, allowing him to humor her. Flirting 101. Valerie knew what she was doing. He chuckled, grabbing her wrist.

"You really wanna know?" When he averted his eyes, glancing at her and lasting for more than a second, it drove Valerie a bit crazy, not going to lie. And then, he pressed her fingers against his lips, kissing them, as gingerly as a feather's touch.

"Yes!" She responded with much enthusiasm, much innocence.

Wow, that was close!

For a moment there, she was nearly swayed and forgot to act at his service.

How unprofessional.

"My mother's in there." He confessed, the tone of his voice a sudden shift, soft, almost reminiscent.

"M-Mother?"

"Mhm,"

"Is she sick?" She was too afraid to ask, but he could always scold her if she had crossed the line, and she was not afraid of that. However…

"Who knows? She's been bedridden for as long as I can remember." Well, that was unexpected. No, wait, this was in the contract. Perhaps he felt comfortable opening up to her immediately due to the terms and conditions listed in the contract, wherein everything going forth in their relationship will be personal between everyone participating, though confidential with everybody else uninvolved. And if, to Hugh, to have a baby girl meant he could dump his baggage on, which Valerie was certain men needed most from women, then she would happily accommodate to any kink he'd wish.

"You must visit her frequently." Valerie continued to question, her demeanor matching his, soft, gentle, and reminiscent.

"She's my mother after all, even though she barely raised me. Let's just say, I could never spend time with her." When he revealed that so benignly, as if he did not wish to but wished to humor her regardless, spoil her, Valerie felt her entire being shrivel.

"Do you…" And as he did, at this moment, she had forgotten about professionalism, the case she closed about sympathizing with her clients due to her past occupations as an escort, she had forgotten it all, the training. Hugh's mindset and his situation felt…a little too close to home, and she found herself unable to stop asking specific questions, as if for once, if she continued to ask and he answered, she would feel less alone. "I mean, do you blame her?"

"Well, as a decent person I would say 'no', but, as a son I would say 'yeah, a little'." Valerie noticed Hugh's personality a contrast to his brother when they first met, how he's feckless, a bit of a bad boy, and sarcastic and unserious in every sense of the word. It wouldn't surprise her if he had done drugs worse than cocaine, however, in this fortuitous exchange, she had never felt so wrong about a person.

He seemed so misunderstood.

"That's a little…" And therefore, she was comfortable with him, as he was quite human, too, after all.

"Dull-witted?" Hugh finished her sentence, as if he knew she knew he could relate to her. Yet, she did not question it, she couldn't, as surprised as she was. Because, how dare she? To someone so human, so deserving of sympathy and more? "I don't blame her for being sick, I blame her for not caring at all about how I'll take her death, whenever she insisted I pull the plug." His eyes glued to the road, not glancing at her anymore, as if he was afraid of her reaction, and how it'll break him.

"I'm sure she loves you, she doesn't want you to see her suffer." Valerie subjected. She couldn't help it, not one bit, clenching her hands tightly, fingernails digging into her skin, anxious about how well she noticed as she asked these things to Hugh, she was asking herself, as well. These very questions she had been denying.

"Love me? Sure, let's say that. Or she's inconsiderate, wanting to end her pain quicker to selfishly abandon us. If she loves me, she would at least pretend to enjoy my company, yes?"

"…" She was speechless. What a coincidence. She didn't want to believe this to be "fate". How similar their lives were, and their mindsets. As she struggled, this man, too, this gorgeous man whom she thought was too rich for his age to know what to do with all the wealth and was only here looking for a fun fuck and some pretty cooperative girls to spoil. Here he was, relaying her problems as his own, and communicating it out…like a godsend?

"Deal with something similar?" He finally glanced at her with that tight, forced smile, which had only known to be sly and cheeky.

No. No way. There's no way she would ever dare to regard him as a godsend.

That's bullshit! All those years, of suffering?! Hoping?! There's just no way. How delusional of her, really. No more of this false hope!

And yet, once again, how she hated herself for this, for always hoping…

"I had a single mother. She died giving birth to me, so she's out of the picture. It's my grandmother who made me feel abandoned." Valerie felt behooved to confess her humanity as well, she owed it to him, for confessing to her first, spoiling her.

"You must be disappointed." He muttered.

She felt her heart hugged by these four words, a splash of warmth enveloped her person, and she wanted so badly to cry, of either relief or spite.

How long had she been waiting for this feeling?

"A little. I may be a terrible person admitting this, since she raised me and my 3 younger siblings, but ever since she got ill I…" she held herself back, or else she might cry for real. She cannot. She had to remind herself that he was still a stranger, and although he was not afraid to chase her away, between the two, she was the one working.

"How old were you when she got ill?" He asked, his deep voice a husk, so calming, soothing, in this fancy car and its brisk air that smelt of orange scent. How specific this question was. However, she cannot blame him, she was obligated to answer him, the way he did her when she herself asked the specifics, until she decided to relate him to her in order to find his humanity.

"I was thirteen."

A moment of silence, and she glanced at him, to find those perfectly thick brows furrowed upward, his face wrinkling in sympathy for her. "…you must've had to grow up quite earlier than most teenagers, huh."

"Yes, I think so." She found herself, too, forcing a sad smile.

"Do you hate it?" He asked, and she got lost in those questions.

"Not for a while." Oh no, her throat became wobbly and clogged. Why did she feel so warm due to these compassionate questions?! As if she had been waiting for them. Hugh was saying everything she's been dying to hear all her life! And, maybe if she wasn't being too ahead of herself, she was saying everything he's been dying to hear all his life, too. And maybe, she surprised him as much as he! "For a while, I thought it was okay, thought it was fair. I thought that's how life was and I had to accept it, for me to suffer this much and all, taking care of my family all by myself, working day in and day out every day after school. But, the older I grew, the more I continued to suffer, and I started to ask myself 'when will it get better? This isn't normal for me to continually suffer like this, and I've worked so hard.'"

She paused, and noticed his piercing green eyes locked on her expression as she explained.

She became bashful.

"I'm sorry if I'm—"

"No, I insist." He displayed an intrigued yet also concerned expression, making every cell within her body believe him, trust him, lean on him. She continued.

"I've realized that, as I did everything up until now with integrity, it still didn't work out, so I—" She promised not to open up, to anyone, much less a client. But… "I'm beginning to think my life is unfair." Damn it. Damn it all. She realized how heavy her shoulders have been. And when the weight had been lifted, damn it, she couldn't help unloading it all.

"I see. Is that the reason why this here is your final resort?"

"What?"

"This," He repeated, his eyes averted to their surroundings, saying 'everything'. He meant her job and the situation they're in. His pride must have not existed for him to even admit to something he'd pay for as degrading, or, perhaps she got it all wrong, and his pride wasn't nonexistent, it was just stable.

"I—" She was about to answer— "I can make it fair." But, he interposed.

"What?"

"Your life. I can make your life fair." She had no idea what he meant, yet his stern eyes, they captivated her. How passionate, luring her in to want to know everything about him, when she promised to herself to keep things professional, to not get too attached and humanize anyone, to serve him platonically as she was paid. And yet, those pair of emeralds, how bright they were, making her self-cautious, submissive, to everything he'd say, everything he'd desire though did not speak it.

To be loved by him, like, actually loved by him.

Must be nice.

As right now, she can't help but be fully convinced he's everything she's waited for and more. He's everything that could save her, protect her, secure her in place, so she would no longer feel this way; floating above water restlessly to no end without a result.

"Oh…" And then, he whipped out a black card across her face, pinned between his long, veiny and fingers. Suddenly, she was reminded of where she was, who she was, and how ahead of herself she must have been. "W-What is…?"

"A black card, use it however you please. Take your siblings out, buy yourself something pretty, pay for your grandmother's chemo— however you please." He shrugged.

"W-What? No, this is way too much!" She pushed his hand away. Oh, trust her, she wanted badly to snatch it off his fingers, she had never seen a black card in person before. However, she knew what she was doing, and flirting 101 initiated a sense of being down-to-earth, humble, per se. An adorable, law-abiding person who couldn't care less for money, when in reality, she'd kill for it. "This isn't a piece of paper, you can't easily hand it to me!" That's true. In a way, as she scolded him to be cute, she felt kind of…envious. Spiteful that she might be right.

"How do I laboriously hand it to you, then?" He persisted, sneering, his strong arm not budging.

"This isn't a joke." She pouted, cheeks inflating like a dolly. How cute.

"I wasn't joking." She could see his teeth as he said that, with that flirty smirk painting his face. Ah, he had dimples. "Just take it, baby." It was right in front of her face, at this rate, she'd better drop the act and just take it. "My first gift to you."

"I can't accept this…" But, she can't. "Not until I earn it." She said, unfastening her seatbelt, pulling a lever, making her seat extend far back. Hugh was bewildered, though engrossed, he observed her until she leaned in closer, bending over to his lap, her hand grazing his thigh.

"Oh?" He couldn't fight back his smirk, and she noticed the way it widened. Men may all be the same, and she would swear to god she would never participate in the act of seduction unless absolutely necessary! She was given the black card without any equivalent exchange. She had no idea why! Maybe, she was horny? But, she was able to separate her avarice from her work, due to experience. How could she let this happen?! Well, for one, Hugh Oblonsky was no joke, he was a next-level hot! She would be lying if she said his touch, his kisses, his deep voice soothing her this whole time didn't make her thighs in her tight jeans a tad bit moist.

And then he placed his huge palm on the crest of her blonde head, right above the black roots, as if she was his pet, embracing her closer to his crotch, where she supposedly aiming for. "You wanna earn it?" He uttered, his voice dropped ten times lower, deeper than the ocean, and she could hear how raspy it got. She felt every tip of her body quaver.

It's been a while since she was this horny.

She had forgotten what it was like to desire, to lust.

To be selfish.

"I…" Before she could utter any further than this, his thumb landed on her nether lip, slithering across its softness from the chapstick she used. She jutted her tongue out, licking his finger.

"How cute." He lifted his hand up, and she missed his warmth, to lick at his own thumb from whence she kissed, she licked. "Don't cower away, baby girl. You asked for it." He warned, and she had no idea how take it, and perhaps she should've listened.

But, as of right now, she prayed to whatever god listening for him to face-fuck her into a choking mess.