by Claire Adams
“You don’t need anything else?”
“Have I ever said yes to that?”
“That’s cool, man. That’s cool.”
I hung up and went back inside. The night would wear on. I’d watch TV and sit with my laptop until I couldn’t take it any longer and fell asleep. I had billions of dollars at my disposal and nothing to do. That was the problem with money. I’ve traveled the world, rode dune buggies through the Sahara, explored the Great Barrier Reef. I even took a cruise to Antarctica. Nothing excited me anymore.
Chapter Four
Mercedes
I felt like a complete idiot. I stood in front of the mirror and stared at myself from the side. My shorts were so small they looked like panties, leaving nothing to the imagination. I almost needed two hairstyles to wear them.
It didn’t feel right. Neither did my shirt. The fabric was stretched so tight it was almost see-through. One deep breath and the seams would burst.
I didn’t feel sexy. I felt ridiculous. An outfit like this required confidence, and I felt anything but confident right then. I was certain I wouldn’t get the job, but I needed it, badly. I tried so hard not to think about why, but there was no avoiding it. My father had cancer, and if I didn’t find a way to help him, he was going to die.
The drug companies hiked up the cost of chemotherapy to the point where it was nearly impossible for people to pay for it. The insurance didn’t want to handle the financial burden, so they cut people off long before the treatment was complete. The amount they paid wasn’t even close to what it would take to cover the costs of treatment.
And chemo wasn’t his only medical expense. There were doctor visits, blood transfusions, shots to get white blood cell counts back up, and even surgery. Not to mention the medications from the pharmacy. The total costs were astronomical.
My family had been hopeful at first, but that was because we didn’t know how the system worked. We’d been paying the insurance company for years. Now that my father needed it, we figured the insurance company would take care of everything. As time wore on, it became clear we were on our own.
My mother made nearly $70,000 a year, working three jobs and taking out payday loans. It wasn’t enough. The insurance was about to stop paying for my father’s care, and we were beyond desperate. My mother talked about doing unspeakable things. She wanted to sell the house, the cars, anything and everything she could get rid of. Last time I saw her, she wasn’t wearing her wedding ring.
That pushed me over the edge. I took her aside and begged her to stop. She yelled at me, saying there was nothing I could do. She told me to worry about my own life, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. I wouldn’t stand by and watch my parents’ lives disintegrate around them. They deserved better. I had to do something. I’d do anything to save the people I loved more than anything in the world.
Which was how I ended up here. Normally, I wouldn’t demean myself like this, but I didn’t have any other options. Even for this job, it had taken me months to get an interview. I’d spent my last penny helping my parents. I was out of money and out of time. Now I couldn’t afford groceries, and I didn’t know where my next rent check would come from. If I didn’t take this job, I’d lose everything.
Working for The Hot Package meant compromise. I drove down to the south side of town, locked my steering wheel, and held on to the can of pepper spray on my keychain. Thugs roamed the streets as well as those begging for money. More than once, I caught them staring at my car, even though it was old and falling apart. One even called out to me when I stopped at a light. I hit the gas as fast as I could and narrowly missed hitting a car making a left turn.
The office was a renovated two-room house with a chain link fence and a pitbull laying on the porch. He ran up to me when I opened the gate, foam running down his mouth. “Get!” I screamed.
It felt weird being here in such a sketchy part of town. Money laundering was the first thing that popped in my head. These were probably some serious drug dealers trying to launder their money through a delivery service. A delivery service that probably delivered their drugs. I felt sick.
It lunged forward and snapped at me. I was terrified. I jumped back, pulled the pepper spray out of my pocket, and aimed at its eyes. It flew forward and jumped up so that its front paws rested on my thighs. It licked my hand sweetly and jumped down to run inside.
My heart still pounded when I walked up to the front door. I didn’t know whether to knock or walk right in. A part of me told me that this was a house, not just a business, but I had no way of knowing for certain. When I showed up last time, the owner was outside smoking a blunt, so I didn’t have to worry about that.
In the end, I decided to lift my hand to knock on the door. It swung open before I could, and the owner, Tony, walked out. He was white and bald, with a soft patch of baby hair sticking out from the top of his head. Pockmarks scarred his face, and a burn on his arm looked like he’d pressed a red hot pipe to his skin. His black wife-beater smelled like rotten sweat, and his jeans hung past his hips, revealing a pair of blue boxer shorts with white stains on the front.
The worst part was the way he shook his head and stepped back so he could take me in. I felt like a cut of meat. He made disgusting sounds of approval, obviously pleased with what he saw. “Come on in, baby.”
The house smelled like cheap weed and liquor, with a hint of something chemical that I couldn’t quite place. I didn’t want to know what it was. I wanted to run out of there. Instead, I took a seat on his stained yellow couch and folded my legs. “You want a drink?” He sat down backward on a broken computer chair in front of me. “You sure?” He wanted something, and he was not going to get it.
“I’m fine. Thanks.”
“Got some smokes, too.”
The last thing I wanted to do was toke myself into a stupor with a man like him in the room. “No, thank you.”
“Ma, I gots to say. You’ve got one fine ass body. I wouldn’t mind peeling your clothes off right now.” He had this way of swinging his hands around like a rapper when he talked. It felt unnatural, like was trying too hard.
“Thank you.” I felt like a snake crawled up my arm. “Does that mean I got the job?”
“Fuck yeah, it does. You can even hop on this shit right now if you want.” He motioned toward his lap, and a wad of bile rose up in my throat.
He must’ve noticed the way I cringed because he tensed up. Something told me he was starting to get angry. “You got a name?”
“Mercedes.”
“No, I mean a name. You can’t be giving your real shit out to these men. You gotta think of something sexy, exotic.” His eyes sliced right through my clothes while he mulled over what he was going to call me. “Cinnamon.”
“I don’t know.”
“Portia?” he asked.
“No, a real name.”
“Yo, that is a real name,” he said. “You’ve never seen Ellen’s wife? She’s fine as hell.”
I shrugged. “I guess not. But whatever, that’s not for me.”
“Okay, fine,” he said. “You got any bright ideas?”
“I don’t know. You said exotic. What about Maria? That way they won’t know it’s a fake name.”
“Maria’s not exotic,” he said.
“Yes, it is.”
“We’re in California. I walk outside right now and yell ‘Maria,’ and 30 chicks are gonna answer me.”
“Well, I like it,” I said. “Maria Jensen. That’s my name.”
He frowned. “But you ain’t Mexican.”
“It’s fine. I’ll say I’m Spanish.”
“Don’t go around saying you Mexican when you ain’t. That’s, like, racist. You’ll get your ass beat.” He yelled the last word.
I bit back an insult and reminded myself I needed this job. That meant dealing with this moron. “I’m not saying I’m Mexican. Spain is another country.”
“They got Mexicans there?”
“I don’t k
now. I’m not saying I’m Mexican.”
“It don’t matter.” He pulled out a pack of loose tobacco and started rolling himself a cigarette. Before he even lit it, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stomach the smell. I was about ready to puke already. He flicked his lighter and inhaled. The smoke hit my nose, and I almost ran out the door. “You’re gonna be dealing with one of my high-rollers. This guy don’t fuck around. He got a sweet ass mansion, tons of cars, everything. Personally, I think he’s a little too flashy about it. I like to keep my shit on the down low, but he’s my boy, so I don’t say nothing.” I was relieved when Tony got up to open a dented filing cabinet in the dining room. “Got some shit for you to sign.” He handed me a badly copied packet and a pen.
“What is it?”
“It just says you’ll keep your mouth shut and you won’t say nothing about what you see. I gotta make sure. This guy’s special. Can’t see him without signing it.”
“Okay.” I scanned over the pages, line by line. It looked like Tony had taken it off the internet. The headline said, ‘Sarah’s Parlor.’ I signed it and handed it over to him. He shoved it into the filing cabinet and walked back.
“So, what you into?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“What do you like to do?”
“You mean, like my hobbies?”
He grinned, showing a filthy set of teeth. “If that’s what you wanna call it. I’m asking how you like to fuck, lady.”
“That is none of your damn business,” I said.
“Hello? It’s totally my business. I need to know what you like to do, what you won’t do, and what’s negotiable.” He thrust his hips forward lewdly. “You like riding it? You wanna be on top?”
“I—I don’t know.” I had no idea why he asked me these questions. This was far from a normal job interview to begin with, but this was crossing some serious lines. It wasn’t like I was going to have sex with him. Still, I guess it couldn’t hurt to answer his questions.
“Come on, baby. You know. Don’t be shy. I won’t hurt you. You like to do it from behind?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever done that.”
“Wha-a-at? You’ve never taken it from behind? Come on; you ain’t no virgin.”
“No, but I’m not that experienced.”
He sucked in air sharply through his teeth. “The client is gonna love you. Goddamn.”
I braced myself to get up, then caught a flash of my father’s face. He was pale, with his cheekbones sticking out, and his eyes bulged out of his sockets. The cancer ate him from the inside out. If I didn’t do something, he was going to die. I didn’t have a choice. I had to take this job.
Tony hadn’t noticed my doubts. He just kept on going. “You like anal?”
“I’m open to new things.”
“Yeah?”
“Sure,” I said, nodding my head and biting my bottom lip so I didn’t scream.
“Nice; you’re gonna do just fine.”
He was just trying to get his cock hard. I didn’t have to worry. He wouldn’t try anything. If he was dangerous, Loren wouldn’t have sent me to him. So, I let him ask his little, perverted questions. A man like that probably didn’t get much.
“You’re all set, Maria Jensen,” he said with a wink. “My rich friend will be waiting for you to deliver the package.”
“When does he need me?”
“Tomorrow at 6. Don’t be late. I’ll take it out of your check.”
“I thought it was cash only.”
“You know what I mean, goddamnit. Now kick rocks. I got another girl coming, and I gots to get my groove on.”
I got out of there as fast as I could. Once I was back in my car, feeling semi-safe, I called Loren.
She answered. “Hello?”
“What is wrong with you? I hate this. I can’t do it.”
“You’re saving your father’s life.”
“That doesn’t matter. He spent the entire time trying to get in my pants. He literally told me to hop right on it. I’ve never been so disgusted in my life.”
“What can I say? You gotta do what you gotta do. What other choice do you have?”
“That doesn’t mean I have to like it. This is weird, Loren.”
“Wait till you get paid. You won’t be saying a thing. You’ll be on your knees, kissing my feet.”
“He’s a drug dealer, isn’t he?” I asked.
“That’s a hell of a lot more common than you think.”
So I’d be delivering packages for a drug dealer. Great. I didn’t see why I had to dress sexy to do it, but I guess it was part of the fun for the buyers. Or Tony’s twisted idea of customer service. “If he does anything, I’m holding you accountable,” I said.
“Would I send you to a guy like that?”
“I’m starting to wonder.”
“You’ll be fine. Stop freaking out. Just do as you’re told, and you’ll rake in the cash.”
“Are you sure it’s going to be enough money?” I asked. It was the only question that really mattered.
“Positive. Look, I gotta get dressed. Call me later.”
“All right.” I hung up and drove home as fast as I could to take a shower. No matter how hard I scrubbed, that smell wasn’t going away. I wasn’t going to feel clean ever again.
Chapter Five
Jake
I had no self-discipline. That was my biggest problem. The second my cock got hard, I had to touch it. Every time I ignored my urges, I’d spend hours torturing myself over it. Just the feeling of my pants rubbing against the head of my cock was enough to get me going.
I stripped down and turned on the shower. My cock was already jumping. I pulled on the foreskin and stroked my palm over my shaft. It was meant to be a tease, but it turned into something more. By the time the water had heated up, I stroked myself furiously.
I had to give myself some time or else I’d come right away, but I was never any good at edging. I had to have it, and I had to have it now. I walked in and let the water pound down my body, over my neck and my chest until it slammed against my cock.
The pressure was too much. I grabbed the shaft and slipped my palm over it. I kept thinking about the girl from downtown. It was her unique look that reeled me in. I was tired of plastic perfection and silicone tits. I needed somebody natural who didn’t have to spend hours worrying about what she looked like.
I imagined myself peeling off her shirt and the expression on her face when I unhooked her bra. My cock pounded with excitement. My hand couldn’t move fast enough. I needed to know what it would feel like to have her wrap her lips around the head of my cock and slide down over it, gently at first. Then she’d pucker her lips and swallow the whole thing.
I wondered if she’d gag, or if she could take the whole thing without even thinking about it. My body screamed. My head tingled, and I could feel the pressure building up inside me. I braced myself against the shower wall.
I wanted her. I didn’t want one of Tony’s girls. I wanted her, and I knew that none of the other girls would match up. They wouldn’t have those long, perfect legs, or that tight butt, and gorgeous tits.
I wanted to pierce through her shell, tear her clothes off, and make her scream. I could practically hear her. I could almost taste her nipples between my lips, and see the way her eyes rolled into the back of her head when I pounded through her.
A warm stream shot out, and I watched as it flowed down the drain. It was anticlimactic, but sweet nonetheless. I scrubbed myself down, dried off, and stood in the bathroom mirror so I could do my hair. Just a quick swipe of my fingers and it stuck up in the front just like it was supposed to.
I threw on a pair of jeans and a tight gray shirt, then laid on my bed. I shouldn’t be doing this. I knew that I had a problem, but I was too far gone to stop. I’d have to live with my curse and try to manage it as best as I could.
I sat up. I couldn’t allow myself to go to a dark place. Plenty of men had regular encounters. That
was to be expected. I was no different. If I started questioning myself, I’d just end up getting worse. Sexuality wasn’t something that could be suppressed. It wouldn’t go away. It would just keep building up until I couldn’t take it any longer. I had to maintain some level of sanity.
I couldn’t lay back down again. When I did, my cock pressed up against my pants. This was worse than usual, but it wasn’t the first time I felt this way. I just had to be careful and redirect my thoughts as best as I could, but I couldn’t help it.
I wasn’t the kind of guy that got obsessed over women. I wasn’t sure I even knew what it meant to be infatuated with somebody. Usually, I lost interest after the first night. There were a few times when things would last a week or two, but it was never anything but sex.
I had to get my head right. If I kept thinking about the girl I saw downtown, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy myself when Tony’s girl got here. I decided to go downstairs and turn on the TV, hoping that I could find something that would distract me from what I really wanted.
I thought about canceling my appointment. That was probably the smart thing to do. I didn’t want to spend all night comparing Tony’s girl to the girl of my dreams. The two would never match up. I wouldn’t even be able to get it up, and when I finally did come, it wouldn’t be satisfying. I’d just want more.
But I was too far gone. It was getting close to 6, and if I didn’t get it soon, I was going to have to take another shower. The doorbell rang, and my stomach sank. She wasn’t going to match up. I was horny now, but I knew that the second I saw the girl, I’d end up going limp. She wouldn’t be the one that I wanted.
I checked the mirror before I opened the door. I looked great, but what was the point? This was a business transaction. It was empty and cold, with no more significance than a handshake. A part of me hated myself for doing this. Why couldn’t I be normal? I shook my face and pinched my arm. I couldn’t think like this.
When I opened the door, the first thing I saw were legs: nothing but long, beautiful legs, and a pair of denim shorts so tight I could see her cheeks peeking out from the frayed hems. Then, I saw her face, my cock jumped, and I had to lean against the doorframe. The girl from downtown was staring at me, holding an empty package over her chest, as if she were trying to hide her boobs.