Raven's Love

By Terri Burke

Sometimes love finds you when
you're looking the other way...

Raven Trevinoa's life is about to change. Straight out of university, she is looking for the perfect first job to start her career. Answering a cryptic advert in the local paper, Raven is enticed by the idea of money, fancy living and unforgettable experience.

The last thing she is looking for, as she begins this new journey, is love. A wealthy, Englishman enters her life—and although the air electrifies every time they're together, he treats her with disdain.

Trauma pulls her away from him, and miscommunications break hearts. What final tragedy will test their true feelings for one another? Can they overcome these hurdles, and surrender themselves to love? Or will bitterness and confusion triumph in keeping them apart?

About the Author

Terri Burke was born and raised in Johannesburg, South Africa. Terri considers her friends and family the most important part of her life. Her dream is to give give up her 9 to 5 and write books full time.

She loves reading romance novels, deciding to write a story of her own. When she’s not reading or writing, she’s binge watching TV. Raven’s Love is Terri’s first novel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Terri Burke
• Release date: Jul 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005960582

Terri Burke

Terri Burke was born and raised in Johannesburg, South Africa. Terri considers her friends and family the most important part of her life. Her dream is to give up her 9 to 5 and write books full time. She loves reading romance novels and decided to write a story of her own. Raven's Love is Terri's first novel.

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Copyright © 2022 Terri Burke

First edition 2022

Published by Terri Burke at Smashwords

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval system without permission from the copyright holder.

The Author has made every effort to trace and acknowledge sources/resources/individuals. In the event that any images/information have been incorrectly attributed or credited, the Author will be pleased to rectify these omissions at the earliest opportunity.

Published by Terri Burke using Reach Publishers’ services,

P O Box 1384, Wandsbeck, South Africa, 3631

Edited by Karen Runge for Reach Publishers

Cover designed by Reach Publishers

Website: www.reachpublishers.org

E-mail: [e-mail]

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Terri Burke

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Author’s Note: This novel includes themes that may be triggering for some. Please read at your own discretion.

Thank you to all my wonderful friends that helped me with this book. I couldn’t have done it without you.

Prologue

I’m known by many names: escort, hooker, prostitute, lady of the night, whore, harlot—but I prefer the term ‘Factotum’. I’m a jack of all trades, combining diverse knowledge and skills with physical dexterity. I’m well educated and have learnt almost every Kama Sutra position. My clients generally don’t hire me for the sex; they hire me for the companionship, or for arm candy at major events. My name is Raven Trevinoa, but my clients know me as Cora. I chose the name as an homage to Cora Pearl, a famous courtesan born in the nineteenth century.

I work for Madame LeBlanc, a highly respected and well-connected woman among the who’s-who in South Africa. She bases us in Johannesburg, but we fly around the country when needed. Hell, I’ve even been overseas with a client. We all live together in a mansion in Westcliff, a place with magnificent panoramic views over the dense tree canopy of the city’s prestigious northern suburbs. We all have our own suites, each including a bedroom with an en-suite bathroom, a walk-in closet and a large lounge area. The ladies who live here have decorated their suites to their own tastes. I’ve made mine ultra-modern, with espresso brown and smoke-grey accents set in geometric shapes. Clients don’t come into our personal boudoirs, as they enjoy being out in public or using hotels of their choice.

But how did all this start? I began this journey with my best friend, Poppy—now also known as Ruby. Let’s go back in time.

Poppy, aka Ruby, is a gorgeous blonde with long wavy hair, sky-blue eyes, fair skin and perfectly proportioned lips. Don’t forget the killer body. I’m the opposite colouring: chocolate brown hair, grey eyes and a slightly darker complexion. We are both twenty-one, just out of university and looking for our first jobs, when we come across a newspaper article that is vaguely worded and full of intrigue:

Are you female, good looking, have undeniable

sex appeal and are open to new possibilities?

Call 0860 123 4321

1

Of course, we called and set up an interview. Duh, we were all of those things. We meet with Madame LeBlanc at her mansion (which we later learnt was nicknamed the ‘Cathouse’) on Wednesday for our first interview.

We are met at the door by a butler. Do we even call them butlers in this country, or is it ‘doorman’? He has rich, dark chocolate skin, no hair except for a greying beard, and is dressed in a pristine three-piece black suit.

Good morning, ladies. My name is Martin. Please follow me; Madame LeBlanc will be with you shortly, he says with a kind smile.

He leads us into what can only be described as a five-star hotel parlour. It has light grey laminate flooring, powder-blue single and double-seater sofas, and glass accents as far as the eye can see. The tables, lamps and ornaments are all made from glass. A floor-to-ceiling window overlooks the infinity pool, offering a magnificent view. Off to the one side of the room is a glass bar with every liquor and mixer I can think of, including a temperature-controlled wine room behind it. Oh my God!

We have just taken a seat when Madame LeBlanc breezes into the room wearing a white Dior pants suit I’d seen just the week before in a major international fashion magazine. She combines it with a pair of sky-high silver Manolo Blahnik heels, and a silver silk scarf which she’s tied in a loose knot around her neck. I’m pretty sure both Poppy and my eyes bulged out a bit upon her entry—talk about wow factor!

Madame LeBlanc is in her late fifties. She exudes sophistication. Her stunning silver hair is cut in a pixie style, her bright blue eyes shine through her exquisitely applied makeup. Her body must have sauntered the catwalks of Paris or London at some stage in her life. Her shoes cost more than a year of my university fees, for shit’s sake.

Well, well, darlings, what do we have here? she inquires with a posh British accent. I feel the need to stand and curtsey, but she waves her hand at me to sit before I’ve even straightened my legs.

Hi, um, hello, uh… Good day, Madame LeBlanc. My name is Raven, and this is Poppy. We’re here about the job advert you placed. I, um, phoned, and you said to come through. I feel very intimidated and a bit plain in her presence. From the corner of my eye, I can see Poppy does, too.

It’s a pleasure to meet you both, but if you’re to be in my employ there is no way you can stutter like a twelve-year-old girl with stage fright. Now stand up, both of you, and let me have a better look at you.

We stand, and as she comes closer, I can smell her perfume: a vintage fragrance with a hint of floral.

Now do a slow twirl and look toward the window. I need the light to inspect your face and skin.

She says this like it’s an ordinary request. I most definitely feel underdressed in a pair of slacks and a button-up shirt with ballet flats. I do as she asks and try not to breathe on her when she comes up close to me, searching for flaws.

Exquisite, both of you. Now, please sit so we may discuss my offer in more detail.

What on earth is this job that we are tested on our looks and not our education or job experience?

Please don’t say lingerie model or playboy waitress, I can’t help but think. There’s no way I’m prancing around half naked in front of tons of people. Don’t get me wrong—neither Poppy nor I are bad looking, but I prefer a more behind-the-scenes deal.

Out of seemingly nowhere, Martin appears with two pieces of paper and two pens attached to clear glass clipboards. He hands us one each, while Madame LeBlanc begins answering our unasked question.

These are NDA’s, she tells us. Also known as a non-disclosure agreement. Please sign them so that I may continue without apprehension that you will be divulging anything we speak of in this interview.

I’m so intrigued and out of my depth that I’m signing my name before she’s even finished explaining what an NDA is. Poppy reads the agreement a bit more cautiously, and then signs her name at the bottom. Martin retrieves the paperwork and disappears as silently as he arrived.

I have been doing this for over thirty years, Madame LeBlanc begins, and I have connections beyond any that you could conceive. I was trained by the best and only accept the highest quality ladies. You will be required to work extremely hard and attend as many courses and programmes as I see fit, until I am satisfied that you are up to my extensive standards. You will live here in my house, under my rules. You will exercise when I say, eat what I say and do as I say. I will cover all costs incurred. If this is not something you can commit to, then please leave before I go any further.

Wow, free accommodation, food and money—what more can I ask for?

I turn my head briefly to look at Poppy, and I see the same excitement in her face.

We are totally in, Poppy answers for the both of us.

So far, so good, I think out loud.

Wonderful. I would like to employ you both as high-end escorts.

And mic drop….

2

My ears are ringing and my mind feels a bit fuzzy. I’m not sure I understand or get the gist of what she’s just said. Is she referring to the Eskort brand of bacon I eat for breakfast, or ‘escort’ as in a person who goes to social events as a plus one, or does she mean a prostitute? I guess my face says it all, as she smiles at me, showing her perfectly straight white teeth, and nods.

Yes, my dear, you heard me correctly. I am talking about a working girl. But most definitely not the roadside kind. I mean the type that is highly glamourous and falls less under the ‘hooker’ category. The type that earns thousands of Rands an hour, and not hundreds. Prostitution may be illegal in South Africa, but with my links to the police, judges and politicians, I work my way around almost everything. What these relationships don’t protect, cash always does. I could buy a soul in this country for the right price.

Um, okay then.

This is not at all what I was expecting when I saw the job ad in the paper, and most certainly is not the reason I went to university. Neither Poppy nor I have siblings—I guess that’s one of the reasons we connected with each other in uni, besides studying the same degree. The other thing we share is our love of having a ball and living life to its fullest. The difference in our family structures is that my parents—also single children—died in a terrible accident when I was eighteen years old. Poppy’s parents are still alive and well; they live in a little village that has more cows than people.

We work both evenings and weekends to pay for our studies and living expenses, and yet we’re both still rolling in debt. Now, I most certainly see myself as a respectable lady and not a tramp. But… the thought of free accommodation, food and thousands of rands is very appealing. I look to my side again and find Poppy staring at me with round eyes.

So, what are your thoughts? I’m not doing anything without you by my side. We’ve both had our one-night stands with no idea who the person was the next day. Is this really that different? I whisper to her.

We did do the picking in those cases. What happens if we get saddled with a seventy-year-old with ear hair and broken blood vessels on his giant nose? Poppy whispers her reply.

Madame LeBlanc pipes up, clearly hearing our conversation. With a gleam in her smile and a look like a spoiled cat, she says, I have ridiculously wealthy clients who most certainly look after themselves and their appearance. No old, frumpy men are allowed on my client list. I have pre-vetted them all, just as I do with every single one of my ladies. Yes, I provide a service, but my ladies are to be respected, cherished and valued. We only offer the best, so I do not let any commoners past my doors.

Could she really be that picky about her clients? Are there enough wealthy men about that are both good looking and gentlemanly? This was news to me.

I expect my ladies to keep in tip-top shape, and therefore only allow one to two dates per week. In extremely rare circumstances I will allow more than two, but the client’s reasoning must be solid and the rate I charge will be hefty. On most occasions, sex is not requested. It is more about accompanying clients to events or dinner dates. My clients are busy, important men who don’t have time to search the internet dating sites or frequent bars in order to find a lady who interests them. They want to be able to relax and enjoy time out with a lady who is intelligent, beautiful and provides pure enjoyment. A lady to make him look and feel good.

Call me crazy, but this is sounding too good to be true. Yes, I’ll have to sleep with men I don’t know—but that isn’t far off what Poppy and I have been doing anyway; hitting the bars and clubs looking for a one-night hook-up. It’d only be once or twice a week with the rest of our time to ourselves, except for a few courses. Hell, count me in.

I don’t realise I’m nodding until Poppy speaks up next to me. By the keen look in Raven’s eye, I’m guessing we’d like to move forward with this opportunity, if you’d have us Madame LeBlanc.

I smile again in agreement.

Wonderful! she exclaims with a massive smile radiating from her face. You are both beauties with attractive bodies and huge promise. A bit of refinement and you two will be among our top requests. I have put together a contract with all the rules and requirements. Go home, have a read and think carefully about this. I am not going to accept you into my house and employment and then on your first date you get cold feet and run. Please, ladies, remember that you have signed an NDA, and this applies to this contract, too.

We accept the envelopes from Martin and stand to leave.

Madame LeBlanc stands gracefully, comes towards us, and air kisses both of our cheeks. Until we meet again, she says and leaves the parlour with as much finesse as she arrived.

Martin shows us out, and as we climb into Poppy’s beaten up 1990 Toyota Corolla and begin the drive home, I pinch myself and then her.

Ouch! What the fuck? she asks with a cute, scrunched up face.

I’m trying to see if this is all a dream, or did that actually just happen? I smile at her.

It most certainly fucking did just happen. I’m still a little shocked. Between Madams, butlers, escorts and NDA’s, I feel like we were just pranked by someone we know.

Right? I say, laughing. That was off-the-charts crazy, but I’m interested and can’t wait to read all about it.

Poppy, not one that needs to be encouraged to drive faster, speeds along as if we are being chased. I guess she’s also beyond intrigued about this whole new venture.

We arrive back at our shared bachelor flat. It’s basically one room with a small, walled-off section for the bathroom. Our beds are pushed together like we’re at a sleepover, and besides the two beds, there is only a two-seater sofa and an apple crate as a coffee table. We have a very basic kitchenette for making coffee and boiling noodles. Ah, the life of the recently graduated student.

We spread out on our beds and pull the documents from the envelopes. Poppy lies on her stomach with her feet pointed to the ceiling, and I sit cross-legged with a pencil clutched between my teeth. We look at each other with massive smiles.

Let’s begin, I say.

Employment Contract

Please read and initial each item. Sign at the bottom and return to Madame LeBlanc, care of the Cathouse.

1. All escorts will be vetted by Madame LeBlanc, this vetting will include facial features, body type, fat percentage and ability to retain information within a specified time period. Madame LeBlanc’s decision is final.

2. The escort will be required to reside within Madame LeBlanc’s mansion with all other escorts. Bedtimes, wake times and daily routines will be scheduled by Madame LeBlanc.

3. All escorts will be provided with three daily meals that are individually planned by both the in-house chef and a personal trainer. Outside of the provided meals, the escort will be permitted to eat as she likes when she is on a date. This also pertains to alcohol consumption and the use of recreational drugs.

4. All escorts are required to be non-smokers and have no vices.

5. All escorts are required to do one to two hours of physical exercise per day with the personal trainer. This will vary according to the personal trainer’s observations. No exercise will need to be completed on or after date days/nights.

6. All escorts will be required to uphold a high standard of beauty in accordance to Madame LeBlanc’s wishes. This standard covers (but is not limited to):

6.1 Hair

6.2 Facials

6.3 Makeup

6.4 Manicures and pedicures

6.5 Waxing

6.6 Tanning

6.7 Cleansing

6.8 Clothing (including shoes and accessories)

7. All escorts are required to attend courses that include (but are not limited to):

7.1 A second or third language

7.2 Art

7.3 Basic knowledge of other countries and their landmarks

7.4 Personal hygiene

7.5 Body language

7.6 Business basics

7.7 Current news

7.8 Dancing types and techniques

7.9 Fashion and accessories

7.10 Foreplay, oral sex and intercourse, including positions

7.11 Hairstyles

7.12 Conversational skills

7.13 Knowledge of local history and geography

7.14 Latest trends, both local and international

7.15 Literature – past and contemporary

7.16 Makeup application

7.17 Manners, etiquette, elocution and behaviour

7.18 Motor vehicles

7.19 Music – past and contemporary

7.20 Sports

8. All escorts will go on dates arranged by Madame LeBlanc. No external dates, sexual encounters or relationships are permitted.

9. All escorts will go on a birth control method recommended by Madame LeBlanc’s gynaecologists. All escorts must have sexual intercourse with a condom, no exceptions. Should an escort become pregnant, an immediate termination is compulsory. All monthly cycles will be recorded by Madame LeBlanc to ensure no dates take place during menstruation. Should a client specifically request the escort during this time, Madame LeBlanc will make an executive decision based on facts presented to her.

10. All escorts must undergo a full medical examination with Madame LeBlanc’s choice of doctor.

11. All escorts must have valid identification documents and passports.

12. All escorts will be paid on the last day of the month. The net remuneration is R75,000.00 per month. Madame LeBlanc will pay taxes, medical expenses, and all benefits applicable to her employees.

13. All use of social media must terminate immediately. Accounts must be made inactive during the escort’s employment.

14. All client information is to remain confidential.

15. Madame LeBlanc’s decision on any and all aspects is final.

Holy shit balls, Poppy whispers when she’s finished reading the contract.

I know, that’s pretty intense. What are your thoughts though, Pops? Free accommodation, free food, a personal trainer, and we’ll be able to pay off our university loans in a few months. Plus, I look at her and shrug, Madame LeBlanc was pretty adamant that they weren’t gross, filthy old men.

I’m totally fucking happy about all the freebies, and I think it’s worth a shot. You don’t have any family and mine is all far away. No one will know what the fuck we’re doing, and I have a feeling it won’t be anything sleazy or degrading, she says.

So, we’re going ahead? I ask, trepidation filling my every cell. Even though prostitution is illegal?

Yes, lets become dirty whores and smile all the way to the fucking bank, she laughs, throwing her pillow at me.

Well, I guess that’s it. We will be getting paid stupid money and sleeping with random men. I’ve had my fair share of men. Some were pretty bad when the beer goggles finally disappeared, so this is exactly the same. Right? Right! That’s what I’m going to convince myself of, anyway.

Let’s give it a day, sleep on it, and get back to Madame LeBlanc tomorrow, I suggest, throwing Poppy’s pillow back at her.

Perfect, Poppy nods. Now let’s get ready to go out and get fucked up drunk.

***

I wake up the next morning with a raging hangover and bloodshot eyes. I feel like death warmed up, and I’m so glad that I have nothing to do today. Oh, hang on—I need to get back to Madame LeBlanc. That’ll have to wait until this afternoon when I can complete full sentences. I move my head slowly to the side to look at Poppy. She’s still fast asleep and snoring, lucky bitch. I force my body from the bed and head to the kitchenette to make coffee. It’ll have to be extra strong to get me functioning today.

I sit watching TV on low volume until Poppy wakes up, looking as bad as I feel.

Hey Pops, how are you feeling? I ask, hiding my smile, already knowing the answer.

Fuck me, I think we had a few too many tequila shots. But it was worth it, seeing as we’ll only be able to drink again on our dates. Which sucks fucking balls, she pouts. I want to drink when I want to drink.

Yes, it’s kind of crazy to give up so much control, be told what to eat and when, not be able to have a glass of wine with dinner, I muse, twirling a lock of hair around my finger.

I agree, she says with a sulky face. But if we do it for a few years and save as much as possible, we’ll be set to start a good life, buy a house, fancy car and have fucking money in the bank.

What are you going to tell you parents? I ask. I’m glad I don’t have to worry about that obstacle.

As little as possible.

You have to tell them something.

Poppy shrugs.

So, we’re definitely doing this? One hundred percent in? I ask again.

I’m in. Are you? Poppy quizzes me. She knows she’s the more daring of the two of us.

Yes! I say before I can back out.

It’s agreed. We’re giving up our freedom, our choice in men and are hopefully going to live the high life for a while, being wined and dined by rich men. She taps her index finger to her lips, then continues. I guess I’ve read too many romance novels, because I secretly hope that one of my dates will score me a diamond necklace or a pair of pearl earrings.

A girl can dream.

That afternoon we call the mansion.

Madame LeBlanc’s residence, Martin answers. How may I be of service?

I switch my phone to speaker so that Poppy and I can both hear what’s said.

Um, hi. It’s Raven and Poppy, we want to speak to Madame LeBlanc regarding our future employment.

I need to remember not to stammer over my words going forward.

Just a moment, he says.

Good afternoon, ladies. Madame LeBlanc’s intoxicating voice comes through the phone. I believe you have an answer for me?

Hi Madame LeBlanc, we do indeed. We’d both love to take you up on this unique job opportunity. My eyes slide to Poppy’s, making sure she’s not about to bail on me.

Wonderful news, you two. How much time do you need before you move into the mansion? she asks happily.

We look at each other and shrug. "We have to give a months’ notice on our flat. I