Justin does a great deal of his work at Mistress Xaviera's place, but he has some clients who prefer their own particular settings. Fancy Beverly Hills types, for instance, prefer fancy Beverly Hills hotels. Justin comes to this one fairly regularly. As he's headed to the room where his client waits for him, Justin stops at the fountain in the lobby, to throw in a coin. He doesn't so much make a wish as just think of Eleanor for a moment, remembering waking up next to her this morning, like every other morning since the first time she slept in his bed, the smell of her hair in his nostrils, the feel of her soft skin against his chest, the sweet sound of her breath is his ear. He holds onto the memory as he holds the quarter, then lets it go as he drops the coin into the gold-hued water. Where he's about to go, he won't take Eleanor, not even in thought.

(spa set with gold-hued water by Parsimonious)

Justin focuses his mind on what he's come here to do, and opens the door, left unlocked for him.

He doesn't speak to her until he's changed clothes. That's one of his rules, and by now she knows better than to even look at him until he's ready. She may be paying him to be here, but Justin never relinquishes the upper hand in these situations. Outside this room, she is wealthy & powerful, and he's no one, but in here, he is master, and he's very firm in laying down the law.

Mercedes' needs are simple: she likes to be insulted & talked down to, and she likes to be paddled & told what a bitch she is. Sometimes, she brings her husband along, to watch, but Justin always prefers when she's alone. Not that he cares about being watched, but Bill laughs too much, which Justin finds unnerving. He gets down to business as soon as he dressed for it: if you give them room, they fill the space with empty chatter & Justin hates that. The last thing he wants is to know anything about them, except what he needs to do. He does his job & he does it well, but he's not in the business to make friends.

Mercedes gets this look in her eyes as she's preparing to pay him. Justin has seen it before: every few months, she tries to get him in bed. He turns & heads for the dresser, to put his street clothes back on, not wanting to give her time to start in on him.

"You have such a nice body Justin," she says as she caresses his shoulders. Justin firmly brushes her hands aside, forcing himself not to recoil at her touch "I've told you before, Mercedes, I don't do that. You know the guys that do...We're finished here." "Why not?" she demands, "I've had all the other guys, Justin, & you're the best. I want the best." Justin laughs, she talks about him like he was a car. "I've told you before," he repeats, "I don't do that..." "For love or money, I know," Mercedes sighs, finishing the sentence with the words he'd said before, on other occasions where she'd asked for more than he wanted to give her. But he wasn't going to say that this time, he doesn't toss the 'love' word around so lightly anymore, as he's learning he'd probably do a lot more for love than he'd previously ever imagined. As Mercedes begins to argue further, he raises a hand to silence her. "Sit down," he tells her, in his most commanding tone, "Shut up." She actually trembles a little, more desire than fear, and obeys. Silently Justin dresses, takes his money & leaves.