Contents
Title Page
The Writer's Assistant
About the Author
Into the Sunset
Do you like Fairy Tales?
Copyright
THE WRITER’S ASSISTANT
by Miranda Lawrence
Writer’s Assistant needed.
Sporadic hours. Generous compensation.
Complete confidentiality required.
Female applicants only.
I raised my fine-tipped marker and circled the ad. The red ink bled through the newspaper and stained my fingers. I licked the ink and wiped it on my jeans. I ignored the red smear and moved onto the next ad.
Now hiring hourly crew members.
Waitress wanted.
RN positions open.
Call center. Some full time benefits.
I’d been at it for days. The job search was not going as well as I’d hoped. If I didn’t find one soon, I’d be kicked from my university for failing to make minimum payments. My education meant the world to me and I was desperate to keep that from happening.
Writer’s Assistant needed.
It was the only one on the page that did not sound like complete torture or didn’t require a technical degree already under my belt. I decided to give the number a call and see what the job itself entailed.
“Yes?” The voice on the other end was male. He spoke with fast, deliberate tones and perfect enunciation of syllables.
“Hi,” I said, caught off guard by his brevity. “My name is Marnie Stone and I’m responding to your ad for a writer’s assistant.”
“Meet me in thirty minutes. Jaxx Tower. Top floor.” His words came in quick bursts, as if he were in a dire hurry.
“Well, I—” I stopped, cut off by the sudden, dull click. I tossed the phone down. At first, I was put off by his rudeness and felt a bit insulted by the conversation, or lack there of. But when I picked up the red-smeared newspaper once again, the feeling of complete desperation crept into me once more.
Determined to not have to make cold calls for corporations for minimum wage, I gathered my things and started walking the ten blocks toward Jaxx Tower. I’d heard of the building before, everyone knew of it. It was a hotel that catered only to the rich or famous. I’d never been there before and the thought of possibly gaining entry to it made my toes tingle as I walked.
It was a warm afternoon and the early autumn sun was burning me up. I cursed under my breath as I checked myself out in the mirrored windows of office buildings. I wasn’t exactly dressed in my best interview clothing, but I had no choice but to make the best of it.
I made it to Jaxx Tower with minutes to spare. Without hesitation, the doorman stopped me on my way inside.
“Miss, do you have business here?”
I caught my breath fast, my pulse still beating from the heat and urgency of the walk there. “Yes, I’m here to see—” I stumbled off, realizing that I had no idea who it was that put out the ad. I reached into my messenger bag, which hung loosely off my shoulder. “I answered an ad in the paper. The man asked me to meet him here on the top floor.”
The doorman took my newspaper and I pointed to the circled ad.
“I can call him again and he can confirm, if you’d like,” I said as I reached into my pocket for my phone.
A smirk ran across the doorman’s lips and he chuckled at me. “No need, miss. The elevator is straight ahead through these doors. Hit P — for Penthouse.”
A sighed with relief. “Thank you,” I said as I entered the golden double doors of the Jaxx Hotel.
I’d never been exposed to such luxury before in my life. And I’d never felt so out of place in my ripped jeans and wrinkled blouse. Everywhere I looked, I saw suit jackets and fancy dresses. Ties and stockings. Those who bothered to make eye contact with me threw their noses up with disdain. So I looked straight ahead and ignored them, my feet stomping toward the elevator.
When I reached it, I tapped the call button repeatedly to open the doors. I breathed a sigh of relief when they opened and I stepped into an empty elevator.
P for penthouse, the doorman had said. I pushed the button and watched my reflection come together as the doors closed on the lobby.
I wiped the sweat off my face and fixed my hair the best I could. My stomach turned as I ascended higher and higher in the golden box. Once I was satisfied with my appearance, I closed my eyes and breathed in and out, listening to the dull rumble of mechanics.
You got this, Marnie.
You got this.
And if not, the worst case scenario is you have to walk back across that lobby in a fit of shame and tears, sobbing uncontrollably.
That last thought didn’t help my nerves. The final ding came from the elevator as I reached my destination. It startled me and sent my heart bouncing into my esophagus.
I stepped off the golden box into the small foyer. It had completely bare, white walls and two benches on either side of the small hall. At the opposite end stood a door. To the right side, I noticed a doorbell. After a few more quick breaths, I reached out and pushed the button.
A loud ding-dong bounced off the walls of the small room and vibrated my ears. It was the longest ten seconds I’d experienced in my life. It felt like an eternity. But soon, I heard the sounds of the door unlocking and it jerked open a few inches.
He slid his head through the small opening, eyebrows raised.
“What?” he asked plainly.
I threw on a smile. “Hi, I’m Marnie Stone. We just spoke about your ad—”
The door flew open the rest of the way and the man stepped out. I took a quick jump backward in surprise of the sudden movement.
He was older than I was, somewhere near thirty, I guessed. Dirty brown hair that curled around his ears. Blue eyes. Tall and handsome. From the people downstairs, I somehow expected him to be wearing a suit. But to my surprise, he wore blue pajama slacks and a plain black t-shirt.
I didn’t feel so out of place anymore. But he was staring at me with a furrowed brow and dancing eyes, which made me feel uncomfortable. His eyes bounced up and down my body, as if were attempting to memorize my every detail. He did so in silence until he suddenly stopped and made eye contact with me, his eyes practically bursting from their sockets.
“You’ll do,” he said. He made a quick turn and left the doorway behind him.
I stood in the open door, shocked and confused. “Umm…” I said, watching him slink out of sight around the corner. I took a curious step forward into the penthouse. It was dark and warm. Uninviting. I walked into the main room and spied a beautiful set of black furniture in the living area. I spotted photo frames along the walls in a perfect straight line. They didn’t seem like normal family photos in the dark. I moved in closer and squinted to see.
Book covers. Each one was a book cover featuring a scantily clad female in a compromising sexual position. The name JR Bone lined the tops of each and they featured titles like, “Bend Over, Baby” and “The Night Nanny Swallowed.”
Above me, the lights came on. I jumped back from the wall.
“Follow me,” he said from the end of the hall.
I nodded and quickened my pace toward him.
“About your ad, sir,” I said. “What exactly does a writer’s assistant do?”
“They assist the writer. I’m a writer and I’m looking for someone to assist me,” he said as he led me farther into the shadows.
“Yes, but… does that mean I help you proofread, or…”
“Not exactly.”
We entered the room at the end. An office. It was just as bare as the foyer. One brown desk with a chair on either side. Two file cabinets. An old couch in the corner.
; “Sit down,” he told me with a quick gesture to the chair in front of the desk.
I took a seat and laid my bag on the floor next to me.
He sat at his desk and opened up a notepad. With a pen, he scribbled a few notes and flicked it back and forth between his fingers. “Is that your natural hair color?” he asked.
“Uhh, yes,” I answered.
“Do you have any sexually transmitted diseases?”
“… No.”
“Nice. Are you a virgin?”
“I—what? No—”
“Damn,” he mumbled. “Well, that’s not a deal breaker.”
I stood up from my chair. “I’m sorry, sir. But what the hell is this?”
He looked up at me with sudden confusion, then with a quick blink he said, “I haven’t done a good job of explaining this, have I?”
“No,” I said as I reached for my bag.
“Please, Ms. Stone, sit back down,” he said. “I’ll explain everything.”
I did so, with little patience, but kept my belongings at the ready to leave.
“I’m hiring an assistant to assist me… creatively,” he said. “You saw my book covers in the hall?”
I nodded.
“I write erotica. And I’m very good at it. Or… I was…” he trailed off. “My sales have declined recently and I wish to reinvent myself.”
“So you want me to help you come up with dirty stories?” I asked.
“I want you to… act out… dirty stories.”
“Excuse me?”
“With me.”
“You want to hire me to have sex with you?”
“In the most simple of terms. Yes.”
“Are you fucking crazy?” I asked. “That’s immoral. And illegal!”
“We are two consenting adults collaborating on creative projects. Trust me, there’s no need to worry about legalities,” he said.
“I’m not consenting to this.”
“It’s entirely up to you. Your choice. But as I stated in my ad, you will be generously compensated.”
“How much?” I had no intention of staying, but I figured I’d humor him.
“One thousand dollars. A week. In cash. Plus ten percent of book sales.”
And just like that, I began to entertain the idea. “Who are you?” I asked with big eyes.
He smiled wide. “My name is Xander Jaxx. I own this building.”
“Oh,” I said.
“I’ll give you a day to think it over, but I’d like for you to start tomorrow evening,” he said.
“I have school,” I said, still in shock.
“Excellent. Good for you,” he said with genuine pride. “Hours are flexible, but I may call you in on the fly. I never know when inspiration will strike. You can’t schedule these types of things.”
I said nothing. The situation swam in my head. Back and forth if went, never really connecting anywhere. I was just there being tossed to and fro in the waves.
“Ms. Stone?”
I heard his voice, distant and soft.
“Stand up.”
I stood and my bag toppled from my lap to the floor.
He came around the desk and stood tall above me. I was of below average height, just above five feet. He stood above me at an easy six. “Are you all right, Ms. Stone?” he said with a light chuckle.
I felt his hand squeeze my shoulders to get my attention.
“Yes,” I said. The thoughts in my head were finally coming together to make sense of it all. Xander wanted me to sleep with him to gain inspiration for erotic stories. In exchange, I would receive a great deal of money. I could not ignore that detail. With that money, I could easily pay my university. All those troubles would be gone.
“What kinds of sex?” I asked.
“All kinds of sex,” he said. “But nothing you don’t consent to beforehand. I’m no creep.”
I laughed. “I don’t know, Mr. Jaxx. This is all a little creepy.”
He chuckled and dropped his hands. “I figured. I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. It was not my intention.” He stepped back behind his desk and reached into this top desk drawer to withdraw a light brown file. “Take this home. Read it. Think it over. If you agree, come back tomorrow night at five and we’ll get started,” he said.
I took the file. “What is it?”
“It’s our contract. Please pay close attention to the pages on confidentiality.”
And with that, I left his penthouse. I kept my head down as I walked through the long lobby. Heat filled my cheeks as a warm mixture of shame and excitement thrilled me.
“How did it go, miss?” the doorman said as I exited the building.
“I’m not sure yet.”
I took a cab back to my dorm and read the contract immediately.
I hereby declare that I, ______________,
do sign this contract willingly, of my own
free will. I am of at least 18 years of age and
will provide two forms of government issued identification …
The legal jargon went on and on, but the gist of it was simple. I was a consenting adult. I would have consensual sex with Mr. Jaxx in exchange of compensation. I would not tell anyone. He was a gorgeous billionaire that wanted to have sex with me.
It had been a while since I’d had sex. I was starting to feel the itch at night, the one that had me reaching into my nightstand. And Xander Jaxx would make a good substitute for a certain vibrating friend.
I turned the pages and my jaw dropped. The last few pages were titled “Questionnaire.”
Please mark Yes or No to the following statements.
Your responses are not legally binding and are merely to give a solid picture of your consent.
Responses may be changed and/or negotiated at any time during your employment.
Upon first day of employment, you and Mr. Jaxx will decide on a safe word.
This word will be contractually and legally binding.
I blushed.
I consent to sex in the missionary position.
I consent to sex in the doggy-style position.
I consent to sex in the cowgirl position.
I consent to sex in the reverse cowgirl position.
I consent to giving oral sex.
I consent to receiving oral sex.
It continued on for a whole page. Then it got more detailed.
I consent to the use of the following sexual enhancement toys:
Dildo
Dildo (vibrating)
Double-ended Dildo
Anal Beads
Nipple Clamps
Arm and Leg Restraints
Hand Cuffs
Ankle Cuffs
And on and on. The last few pages were full of sexual fetishes.
Do you consent to being dominated?
Do you consent to dominating me?
Do you consent to water sports?
Do you consent to foot play?
Do you consent to sex multiple partners?
Do you consent to various costumes?
I sat the contract down on my bed and rolled back onto my pillows. When he had said “all kinds of sex,” he was not joking. I’d only performed a small handful of these options in my short sex life. But I always wanted to try more.
I spent the night weighing all the pros and cons. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep as my nether throbbed with possibilities.
I dreamed of sex.
All kinds of sex.
And by morning, my mind was made.
I signed the contract and went through the questionnaire.
I had nothing to lose, but much to gain from the arrangement. And hell. I could have some fun for a change.
***
That night, after all my classes were done, I fetched a cab downtown to the Jaxx Tower Hotel. I wasn’t going to be embarrassed again and made sure to dress accordingly. I threw on a nice, black dress with a matching cardigan. I wasn’t the definition of classy, but at least I wasn’t in je
ans.
“Good evening, Ms. Stone,” the doorman greeted me again, this time with a smile. “Mr. Jaxx is expecting you,” he said as he opened the door.
I was taken aback, remembering clearly that I never told the doorman who I was. But I said nothing to question it and walked inside the Jaxx Tower Hotel once more.
“Welcome back,” Mr. Jaxx greeted me.
I walked inside and found the place much more inviting than the day before. The lights made a nice, romantic glow and candles were lit all around. My pulse kicked up a few notches.
“Is that the contract?” he asked. Even his appearance was improved from yesterday. His clothing was much nicer. Dress slacks and a tucked in, button down shirt. His hair was washed and styled. He indeed looked the part of the young, handsome billionaire. My cheeks turned red.
“Oh, yes, it is,” I said as I held it out to him.
“Excellent. If you don’t mind, I need a few moments to look this over,” he said. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He left the living room and headed toward his office in the back of the penthouse. I sat on the large, black sofa. A bottle of wine and two wine glasses sat on the center table. I decided to pour myself a glass to calm my nerves. The alcohol breezed through my body. My finger tips and toes were tingling after a few sips.
“Good idea,” he said as he returned. He sat down next to me and poured himself a glass. “A toast,” he said as he lifted his glass. “To a new business partnership.”
I smiled and raised my glass to him. “A new business partnership,” I repeated with a smile.
We clinked our glasses together and took another sip.
“One last thing before we can officially begin,” he said. “We need to consummate the contract.”
“Consummate the contract?”
“Yes. I’m looking for a certain… sexual chemistry from my assistant. Before we can truly get started producing quality work, I’d like to make certain we have that chemistry,” he said.
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