Her office was medium to large in size, had only one portrait of a pretty, young woman on her desk, and otherwise covered with snacks, a used coffee mug, a dangling whip from a wall-mounted bench, and papers and files.
She brought over the spare chair in the corner near her desk and I sat in wait while she retrieved a water jug and two glasses from inside a cabinet. She filled the jug with the water fountain and laid it out for us on her desk. She held up the jug to me, but I shook my head, so she poured a glass for herself, sipped, and then cleared her throat. “Are you friends with Rhett?”
“Old school friends,” I clarified, feeling it summed us up pretty well minus the messy details she didn’t have to know.
“School.” She cocked her head and smiled wide. “Are you in school, Vee?”
“Oh, no. Sorry for the confusion. I’ve finished, but we used to talk a while back.”
“You’re not twenty-one.” It was a statement, and it, like everything else Amber had said, cemented the authority she had in this place.
“I’m eighteen. His brother was in my year level, so we eventually became friends, too.”
“Lovely,” Amber said although she didn’t seem to mean it. She was looking at her computer and looking at something on it. It was on an angle from where I sat so I couldn’t look discreetly.
“Okay.” She slapped her thighs, indicating she was ready to give me her full attention. “We had staff issues last night. I had to fire one of our girls, so we are short and calmly swimming along like ducks, while we run around silly under the surface. Everyone here prides themselves on professionalism as much as pleasure and she was not respecting the business.” Amber paused. “Do you know much about The Rental?”
“Not really.” I could have lied, but I decided right then I shouldn’t ever do this to Amber.
“The Rental is an agency to rent out services to clients; however, there’s no sexual intercourse of any form allowed. Rentals and clients can kiss and make out. Contact is allowed on arms, necks, chests, waists, ass cheeks, thighs down, and on the back. Masturbation and games of sexual nature are allowed as well as non-contact dates to events or parties—pretty much everything is allowed as long as the client and the rental’s sexual regions are not breached by the other person. This is forbidden by a binding contract. The same rules apply regardless of gender.
“On a different note, we have rentals of all sorts from those in relationships, fresh out of high schoolers like you, college age, through to seniors.”
“Wow,” I sighed.
“Not what you can handle?”
“Not that at all,” I said, slowly, to form a back-up explanation. “I’m a part-time worker at a leisure centre and not at all thrilled with the work there. I want something more, and your description of The Rental blew my mind. I’m interested—I’m an amateur, but passionate and excited.”
“Do you believe in fate, Ms Wyland?”
Her left-of-field question threw me, and I sat back. “Still working on the belief part, but I think there is some sort of order that occurs that we cannot help, only ride along on.”
She nodded. “If I met you a week ago, I’d have turned you down. We want the best of the best staff, experienced and knowledgeable. But a woman who let her addictions get the better of her just left me in a lurch. And I see you. You want this. She wanted the sustenance for her lifestyle. The Rental worked her; she didn’t work The Rental.”
Amber leant forward and said, “Are you in control and driven, Ms Wyland? Because, if you are, I believe fate gave me this twist to give you a go if you are able to begin relatively soon.”
I smiled and reeled off my answer immediately. “Very.”
Amber turned her back to me while she went through a file, and I allowed the fear crawling all over my skin to erupt in a cold shiver down my back. My heart thumped loudly at my lie, and I could feel it beating strong in my ears, spurring me on. I was driven, but I wasn’t in control.
Some days, I found a park, a dark shadow behind a building, or sat in my car to find my high. I had no one to do it with anymore, but it was the only way I could get up in the mornings.
On those mornings, I missed my daddy so hard in my chest I stung raw from freezing the emptiness. It was times like those that the smoking worked literally and metaphorically, heating me up. Back to life—a sliver of light down the dark tunnel that promised an end after all this.
Amber turned back after a moment and reeled off details. Such as the pay. Most of it would go to me, and The Rental took a cut of the handsome figure the client would pay. I smiled and hoped she didn’t catch me hiding how I very nearly baulked. It would be a higher rate hourly working here than I got for working three hours as a lifeguard, and that already had been more than most of the jobs my old friends kept.
Amber explained how The Rental was well secured. On top of the security cameras outside and within the open areas, they had many other bodyguards like Rick for real-time safety. The only place they provided privacy was within the rooms, both for clients and for staff.
Dates could occur in the rooms within the building or out at a location of choice. All new clients had a police check run and other tests for safety and security of rentals.
“I’m impressed by your restraint,” Amber said afterward. “Many new rentals jump at the beginning and try to show their confidence. This job isn’t just about sexually pleasing a client. Mostly it’s not. It’s about fantasies, hidden or repressed desires, but also to curb loneliness, depression, and insecurities. It needs to be the whole package. Being hired company for a night in this demand requires a degree of acting. You need to seem like you care whether you like the client or not, and you need to have a good head on your shoulders. Clients can mess with you when it’s not about the sex. Some are … lonely. Really lonely.”
Amber handed me a booklet. “This is a company form for new employees. All forms are kept locked and only accessed by a manager, one senior HR person, and myself. We do, in saying that, need your real name and details.”
I was about to ask if I was meant to lie, but she continued, saying, “We need all employees to create a pseudonym. Many want this, and others don’t mind, but to keep all our valued staff safe and as anonymous as we can, we require you to take some time for this aspect of application.”
“Wait,” I said. “So I’ve got the job? I’m hired?”
“You know,” Amber said as she leant forward on her elbow pointing at me, “we need more enthusiastic employees like yourself. But a word of warning—compartmentalise. You need to treat your time here like a different life. At first, it may not seem important, but you’ll realise everything here can go up in flames in an instant. You don’t want to discover you have no life to go back to.”
“Sure. I will.”
“I like you. A lot. Don’t lose your qualities.”
I was high on excitement, but I realised like a sudden change in the wind, I’d need to mull it over. My life was about to change in an instant, and it’d be easy to make the wrong choice. Even just the pause now made me shift in my seat. I’d never been paid to turn someone on, and I didn’t know nearly anything about this position in the scheme of things. The atmosphere in this building seemed as Amber described, compartmentalised. Would I need to put up an act in front of other rentals and staff, as well as clients?
If I had a change of heart, I could always quit.
No worries, Vee. Now chill.
“I’ll note that one down,” I answered.
“I hope you’ll enjoy us as much as we will enjoy having you here.”
She left me to fill out the form. Over the next twenty minutes, I created a profile for myself. I thought picking a name would take forever, but it didn’t take too long to figure out who my other self would be. Victoria. Victoria would have brown hair, instead of my blonde. She had a mum, dad, and two sisters (sisters sounded hot, didn’t it?) and a pet cat. She lived with roommates (ward off the stalkers) and loved to dance.
Afterward, I handed the form in to Amber, who was waiting at the desk with the receptionist. She took me to their on-site doctor who performed a swab and blood test to check for any existing conditions or diseases.
A make-up artist made up my face, put on a wig from the storage room as described in my application and took a series of portfolio shots—some headshots and some body shots.
It all happened so fast, I went through it with a smile and hoped I’d wake up and still feel confident this was the right choice to make. I’d been a thinker for the last half a year, bunkered down in my own world, trapped and plagued by money issues, and the worst kind of loss I’d ever experienced.
I was ready to be a doer, although my forced smile and upbeat responses to everyone was as far as my belief ran. I wanted, though, oh how I craved, like a pulsing ache in my belly before a big race. I wanted to experience the dirty things I saw and imagined, and I wanted freedom. I could do the hard work now for the money that would get me there.
I didn’t know how I would, but I wanted to learn.
I got tips during my initiation. I should wear my hair or wig down, always, and I wasn’t to cut it shorter than my shoulders unless I had long-term clients who were happy for me to do so. Deflect personal questions if asked too often.
Amber started packing up to leave, so I asked, “Do I get the house tour?”
“Not today. We’re busy with the shortage.”
“Okay, then.”
“I’ll be in touch. Oh, and I forgot to tell you,” she said. “I’m relieved you and Rick aren’t in a relationship. Because of the nature of The Rental, we don’t allow personal relationships between anyone who works here out of the interest of clients.” She patted my shoulder and retreated. “But that won’t be an issue for you.”
7
I GOT HOME in the early hours of the morning. I slept and woke, telling Mum my work cancelled some shifts so I’d be home for the next few days. She swallowed it all easily as the eggs she’d made to eat—in haste—before dashing off. It was lucky because I didn’t know what else to say. I curled up in bed that day and the next, waiting to get a call or email from Amber, reading a book and watching movies.
I was watching Titanic and had hit pause before Rose and Jack went to the bow at sunset for their infamous scene. It was midday, and I wanted to watch the rest in one gulp after lunch.
The doorbell rang when I was in the kitchen cutting up tomatoes for my toasted sandwich. I narrowed my eyes and ran into Mum’s room to peep. Justin hadn’t pestered me for a few months now, and I hardly expected him to come for a nice Sunday lunch.
But Rick had come. He arrived with a lopsided smile in effect mirroring the same cheesy expression on my face as I let him in. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Wanted to drop by to see how you were.”
“I’m making a bite to eat. Want some?”
He was in drawstring lounge pants, a T-shirt and a hoodie scrunched above his elbows. Rick Delaney would either use his appeal for leverage over whatever he wanted with me today or was positively clueless of how he affected me.
I turned my back, heading there anyway before he answered, my bitten lip hidden from his view. In those pants, the material hung loosely, and I continued cutting my tomato though the image of the slight outline I’d seen wouldn’t disappear. I couldn’t continue cutting tomatoes now, so I used the slices I had, piled on a slice of cheese and ham, and pressed it between the hot plates.
While Mr Sex had walked in and aroused my imagination with a mere walk, I couldn’t have looked worse—unless maybe I was in a hessian sack. I wore leggings, a tank top, and a long cardigan, wispy and weightless when I walked. I hadn’t combed my hair or worn a bra, and my unruly state had me chin down, cleaning everything I’d used immediately as my sandwich cooked.
He sat down at a stool under the lip of the kitchen bench, resting his elbows on the surface. “Starving, actually. Thanks for saving a piece.”
The dripping sarcasm in his tone and the pointed glare at the singular sandwich indicated he wasn’t serious.
I shook my head although smiling, and leaned my elbows on the bench. “You surprised me visiting like this. I um … put it all away, not really thinking.”
He surveyed the clean surface, and his gaze ended between my elbows. My cheeks flamed, and as badly as I wanted to drop my gaze, I knew by the wide-eyed lust in his that he could see either nipple, my pushed together cleavage or both. The idea made me smile, so I stayed that way, with a coy grin.
“How’s your mum?” he asked.
“My mum?” I turned and moved the sandwich to the plate. It wasn’t for hunger—I’d lost that. Him steering the conversation to my mum made my hope sag, but I continued on halving the toasted sandwich with a knife and pushing his half his way, as if I didn’t mind at all. “She’s doing better now, not fantastic, but … well … okay. Here.”
I took a bite of mine, scalded my tongue, and flinched.
“Come here.”
I walked around, plopping onto the stool next to him.
“Open up.”
I stuck out my tongue.
He assessed it. “Seems fine. I believe only your pride is wounded.” I didn’t say a word, only breathed heavily through my nose.
“Vee, is your mother home?”
With my lip trapped between my teeth, I shook my head.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about Friday night. All of it,” he said, and put his hands on the sides of my stool. His fingers caressed my butt as he pulled me close between his knees. “Not the moment I laid eyes on you, the kiss, or what I said.”
He brought up a slideshow of flashbacks to my mind, and I replayed that interview with Amber and my induction process. I had been dreaming of the call or email all weekend, but didn’t realise until now I’d tucked away my fears and concerns. Rick dredged it all up, slimy and sloppy, and my hands became fidgety in response. I picked up my triangle from the plate and ate it up, licking my cheesy fingertips clean. Rick watched me, lips parted as he watched every flick, withdrawal, and slide in and out. He all but made me feel like I was sucking his dick.
I brushed my sleeve over my forehead and weakly smiled. “Nah. It’s fine.” I couldn’t even look at his face, instead staring at his T-shirt.
“What were you doing before?” he asked, popping his triangle into his mouth.
“Watching a movie. We can just hang out here if you want to.”
He swallowed, bobbing his Adam’s apple up and down. “I was thinking we could watch a movie anyway, so I’m happy to sit in with you. Don’t ruin your movie on account of me. I’m easy to please.”
“Really?” I asked. “Because it’s Titanic.”
He swallowed his last piece and took the plate with him to the sink. He began washing his hands, turned to me, and said, “Nice.” I forgot his response as soon as he said it. I watched his back and shoulders tense while he scrubbed his hands together, shook them in the sink, and rubbed them down with the towel.
Good God, it seemed I could turn anything into a sexual connotation when it involved Rick. I had to get a grip. I stood from my seat and let a deep breath wash my dirty mind clean.
“Cool, it’s on in my room.” I grabbed a bag of M&M’s from the pantry and led us back to continue watching.
In my room, I must have started to fuss because he told me to stop. He got under my blanket with me, and I pressed play. My heartbeat was right in my throat the entire time. I couldn’t swallow any M&M’s, though it wasn’t for lack of trying, and I ended up feeding the few I did bring to my mouth over to Rick’s to feed him instead.
He wrapped his tongue over the chocolate, wetting my fingers in the process, and then slowly withdrew. “Sit with me,” he whispered roughly.
I placed my hands on either side to lift up. I was immediately assaulted with awkward possibilities of getting all tangled with my limbs while figuring out how to slide over to him. Or if he wanted me between his legs at all. In that pause, he
slid his hands over my hips and placed me at the peak inside his thighs.
I broke out in a sweat and threw off the cover to the end of the bed, past his bare feet extending beyond my own.
His dick came to life and nudged the hollow between my ass cheeks through my leggings.
On screen, Rose was naked, and the camera panned down her length, past her breasts and switched to Jack’s startled, yet cool, composure.
“This doesn’t happen to me when I watch movies,” Rick whispered in my ear, sliding his bottom lip down the outer rim and breathing—hard. I sucked in a rapid breath and let my head ease onto his shoulder. He held my hips steady and grinded his erection against me, and if not for my leggings, he’d be inside me. He wound his arms around me like a band and added, “I missed you so much, Vee. I’m trying to watch Rose’s tits, but I just can’t.”
He didn’t. He nibbled on my neck, on my ear; he turned my chin with his finger and nibbled on my lips. Later, he used his teeth and lips to suck on my neck, but let go quickly. I guessed branding me with a hickey would not bode well for clients wanting to own me during their bookings.
He used his hands mostly after that. When he touched my waist and down my sides with the same hungry sensuality as from his twenty-first, I shuddered. Tight against my skin, his hands lowered into a V between my thighs.
The memory of those hands on that night had always belonged to Rick. Not my then boyfriend, his brother. Somewhere inside, I thought I knew all along that it could never be Justin. Did that make Rick and me as bad as Justin and Cara?
I didn’t mind burning for my dirty thoughts. It was smoking hot in hell, anyway.
Rick raised his palms, slowly, up my stomach and chest. He slid them over my pebbled nipples, and then centred over my hammering, wild heart. “Do you feel that?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“I wanted you so badly that night, Vee. I was drunk, and things were bad with you and Justin, but it shouldn’t be right what I did. And the worst thing is I don’t feel bad. I’m not as good as you might think, baby,” he said and kissed behind my ear. “There were three strippers at that party. But guess who I had wood for when I took off? Guess who all my friends had wood for? You know it wasn’t just because of them.”
The Rental Page 6