Exclusive Contract

by Ava Lore

I sniffed at him. “I'd find a way. Bleach does wonders.”

  He shook his head as he turned off onto the major street that ran past Rose's apartment building. “Rebecca,” he said, “don't you think that bleaching your bridge spot might be a bit counterproductive? Wouldn't it burn your lungs out while you slept?”

  I crossed my arms. “Better than sleeping in bird shit,” I said.

  He actually laughed. “Whatever floats your boat.” We reached Rose's apartment complex, and he wheeled the car wildly through the parking lot as I gave him directions to her building. By the time Kent parked and I got out my knees were shaking, and not just from unbridled lust and pre-orgasmic tremors caused by a car so sexy I could suddenly understand those internet weirdos who marry inanimate objects, like their blenders or a highway overpass.

  Once I got out of the car, however, I realized I was very nervous. I lifted my chin and tried not to show it. “This way,” I said, and led him to one of the ground floor units. Pulling out the spare key Rose had given me, I opened the door.

  “Hello?” I called into the empty apartment. It was a courtesy, nothing more. Rose worked late every day of the week, and on the weekends. I'm pretty sure some days she didn't even sleep. I honestly didn't know how she did it. Just thinking about it exhausted me.

  So, as always, there was no answer. I opened the door wide and stepped inside, flipping on the lights.

  Kent entered behind me, so I was able to hear the low whistle that escaped from between his lips. “Wow,” he said, looking around.

  “Wow what?” I asked him as I trudged over to the couch where my meager worldly possessions sat. Half of them were still in their original garbage bags. Just the two. I didn't have a third hand to help me when I'd hauled them up here.

  “I'm just impressed at how clean this place is,” he said. “I thought Rose worked full time. Is this your doing?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, it wasn't in the best shape when I got here a week ago, but it wasn't too bad. You know, since she's a lawyer she works all the time. She's never here.” I started gathering my precisely folded dirty clothes and stuffing them back into their bags. There was really no point in separating them out—I'd worn most of the clothes I already owned and I didn't have any coins for the laundry and I really didn't feel comfortable asking Rose for anything else.

  “Mm,” he said. “I work all the time and my place is a pit.”

  I stuffed my laptop and power cord in between a couple of soft shirts. “That's because you have better things to do than clean,” I told him. I had hobbies once, but most hobbies require resources.

  “I don't know,” he said. “Most of the stuff I do feels pretty pointless, honestly.”

  I looked up, surprised. He was so tall, especially from my spot here on the floor next to the couch. He loomed in the dim twilight—I hadn't realized it was so late. The worn carpet under my hands made me think of rug burn and all the delicious ways one could get it.

  Licking my lips I turned back to my task, standing up and surveying the apartment to see if I'd left anything.

  I suddenly, horribly, realized how much I had lost in the past few years. I had no books and no movies with me—some of them were digital, sure, but well-worn copies of favorite books and old DVDs that had been given to me as gifts by well-meaning relatives who snapped up the fullscreen editions of everything—those were all gone now. I'd sold them off dozens at a time for money. Food, rent, my boyfriend's weed and MDMA habits... all of that gone down the drain. I'd spent some of it too, on alcohol, before I'd realized I was heading down the path of the barflys in the bars I tended.

  Even when I'd finally landed a good job at a trendy bar, somehow all my money still managed to be eaten up and sucked down the drain. There was never enough to go around. I'd been struggling for years, I realized, bits of me falling away until my entire life could fit into two trash bags. I hadn't even left much behind when I left, and I'd been too upset to realize how little I actually had at the time.

  Shit, I thought.

  Lost, I cast about the room, staring at the clean surfaces, the well-polished woods and the cleaned baseboards. I'd even scrubbed the walls down and cleaned the cabinets, but other than that I'd left nothing behind except the absence of dirt and filth.

  "I... I don't think I have anything else to get," I said after a moment.

  Kent made a noise that I couldn't really place. "Not even a toothbrush?" he asked me incredulously.

  I snapped my fingers. Of course, the bathroom. "Thanks," I said. "I'll go through there, too..." I felt stupid even having to be reminded.

  I turned my back on him, unable to look this rich, successful man in the eye. He was only a few years older than me and he had somehow clawed his way to the top. I didn't even know which way the mountain was. I was the biggest loser in the universe compared to him, and he knew it. Maybe that was why he liked to put his hands on me—he knew I'd be easy prey. A young woman with nothing could be swept off her feet easily.

  The thought made me ashamed, and yet I knew if he approached me again I would open my legs up and just go to town on whatever part of his body he wanted to stick into me.

  I walked briskly away from him as his phone rang for the fiftieth time. The bathroom was through Rose's bedroom, and I practically ran the last few feet to the door so I wouldn't look at the bed by accident, as though it had some sort of magical power.

  Once inside the bathroom I grabbed my toothbrush, which was brand new and had the name of Rose's dentist on it. A free toothbrush, in other words, just like the last free toothbrush she'd given me, which I'd used to scrub the grout. I probably needed to take better care of my toothbrushes.

  Looking around Rose's now-meticulous bathroom, I realized I'd almost forgot my make up. That would have been a disaster. I'd never be able to go out in public wearing no make up and still convince people that I was Carter Hudson's girlfriend. Frankly, I wasn't sure how I was going to do that now. I still didn't look anything like the other women who had applied for the position. Maybe Kent just liked his women dumpy.

  The thought was so depressing for the both of us that I almost cried. Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I grabbed the few pieces I had, all acquired at the drug store. Pressed powder, mascara, eyeliner, a small shadow trio, and my lipstick was in my bag. All that was left was my razor.

  Turning toward the bathtub, I leaned in and grabbed my little pink disposable razor from the side. I'd probably have to think about getting another one soon, if I could afford it...

  It hit me then: I was going to be able to afford it! The thought almost made me laugh, that I should get so excited about being able to buy a new razor without having to worry about the few bucks it would set me back, but there it was.

  Still, I was going to have to wait until my first paycheck. No big. It would last until then. I turned, ready to go out to the living room.

  Kent stood in the doorway, one elbow casually propped on the frame above his head, watching me.

  I ground to a halt, nearly dropping my things. "Holy shit!" I said. "You scared me." I tried not to look at the way his shirt pulled tight across his rock hard abs.

  He shrugged, glancing around the bathroom, as if to say he didn't care. He probably didn't. I scowled at him. "I don't need help getting a toothbrush, you know," I told him as haughtily as I could manage.

  His blue-green eyes pinned me. "I needed to use the facilities, as they say."

  "Oh." I blushed red hot, my ears burning. Of course. "Sorry," I said. "I'll just, uh, get out of your way..."

  I waited for him to move aside so I could squeeze past him, but he was completely still. He didn't move a muscle. "Is this really all you have, Rebecca?" he asked me.

  I nodded. "Yeah. I travel light. You know, like a monk. Very few worldly possessions and all that." I hoped I didn't sound as pathetic as I felt, but judging by his face, he didn't believe me.

  "If you want to send for your things in... where was it you lived?"

  "San D
iego."

  "San Diego. If you want to send for the things you left in San Diego, we can do that."

  God, this was embarrassing. "I didn't leave anything in San Diego," I said. "This is it."

  The expression on his face was almost comical. "Are you serious?" he asked me.

  Giving him a cranky look, I nodded. "Yes, of course I'm serious," I said. "Who would joke about being so dirt poor they had to get a free toothbrush from their sister?"

  His mouth quirked. "I didn't know that you had to get a free toothbrush from your sister," he said.

  I didn't feel like discussing this with him. "Would you move? I'm not going to stand in here while you... do your business or whatever. Use the facilities.

  "I lied," he said suddenly. "I don't have to use the facilities."

  I shifted on my feet. "Um. Then why are you back here?"

  He shrugged. "I wanted to eat you out," he said.

  My whole brain shut down. My hands went limp. My meager possessions fell to the floor.

  "What?" I said stupidly.

  A smooth, wicked smile sliced across his face. "You get your tension out by cleaning, and you did an admirable job of the loft. I thought we would have to burn the building down to get that place tidied up. And I get my tension out by fucking. I believe we already discussed this. And there is nothing more stressful to me than having to deal with the rest of the band. The music is fine. The rest of it is not so fine.”

  I blinked at him. “What?” I said again.

  He shook his head. “Manny seems to think you're a prime candidate for smoking out with him, and Sonya wants to draw and quarter you because I made an exception for your presence at rehearsal. She nearly bit my head off after rehearsal and left in a huff. She'll be calling me up, drunk, in about five hours, just as I'm getting ready to go to sleep.”

  “That wouldn't have happened if you'd told them I'm an employee,” I felt compelled to point out. That still confused me.

  He waved his hand. “I have my reasons. And Carter..." He closed his eyes and sighed. "He said he was going home. I'll know if he was telling the truth soon enough."

  He opened his eyes again, raking his gaze up and down my body before coming to rest on my crotch. "Quite simply," he said, "I'd like to lick your cunt. I'd like to hear you scream my name."

  The world seemed to sway. "Don't... don't you have groupies for that sort of thing?" I asked breathlessly.

  "I'd rather have you."

  I swallowed. "I don't know what to say."

  "You can start by saying yes, please, Kent. Eat my pussy."

  My skin tingled with his words. I wondered why he wasn't the one singing, front and center. That voice could carry me away, anywhere he wanted me to go...

  Oh, this was a problem. This was a huge problem, and I wasn't about to make it any better. My mouth was dry, but the words came out clear enough:

  “Yes, please, Kent. Eat my pussy.”

  “I thought you'd never ask,” he said.

  Reaching out, he turned out the bathroom light.

  Together, we plunged into darkness. My sister's bedroom was only dimly lit by the lights outside, and when he stepped through the doorway, he shut the door behind him, wrapping us up in blackness.

  I stood in the dark, my heart thrumming like the strings of his bass. I could smell him—he didn't smell like a guy in a suit. He smelled like sweat and cigarettes and sex. Or perhaps that was just me projecting. My blood raced through my veins, heating my skin, until I thought for sure I would start to glow incandescent.

  He moved toward me. I felt the air shift, and our ragged breath mingled. I wanted to ask, Why me? but I wasn't sure I even wanted to know the answer. Everything was condensing, swirling down to just us in the pitch blackness.

  Something brushed against my stomach—a hand. The heat flowed from his body to mine, back and forth as his other hand found me.

  Again he didn't remove my clothes, electing instead to skate his fingers up and down my stomach, floating over my ribs and barely brushing my breasts. I reached out blindly, searching for him, but when he felt me move, he grabbed my wrists.

  “Please,” was all he said. I didn't know what he was asking or why he needed it, but I complied, even though my fingers itched to rub over his skin.

  He resumed his exploration, and I forced myself to keep my eyes open, straining for a glimpse of him in the dark. The space between my legs ached, empty and hungry. Already I imagined what he might feel like there, what his lips and tongue could do to me. I wanted him to rip our clothes away the way we did the first time, but he seemed determined to take it slow this time.

  I felt him lean in. His lips found the high bone of my cheek, and when he slipped his tongue out to taste me I had to bite my lips to keep from turning my face up, begging to receive his kiss.

  Softly he ran the tip of his tongue down my cheekbone, then opened his mouth and planted a slow, devouring kiss on the edge of my jaw. I reached for him again, and this time he didn't stop me.

  He felt good. Hard and lean. Burning with desire and will, with some kind of fire I'd certainly never felt, in another person or in myself. A man who knew what he wanted and got it. How did he even get the courage to ask for what he wanted? I couldn't understand it, but I was so, so glad he did. Corded muscles met my fingers, and I scraped my fingernails over his arms through his fine, perfectly tailored shirt.

  He growled, low in his throat. Without warning he dropped to his knees and my breath caught as I lost him in the dark. Then his hands were running over the waistband of my jeans unbuttoning them, zipping them down and shoving them to the floor where they pooled around my feet. I didn't need to be told what to do. Silently I stepped out of them, pulling my shoes off as I did so.

  “I smell your pussy,” he whispered. His voice was loud in the blackness, a harsh thing, full of edges and rough surfaces, a desperate voice. Then, to my utter shock, he leaned forward and buried his nose in my cunt, inhaling deeply.

  In the dark, my face flushed crimson, but my body responded with a gush of warm wetness, and when he put his mouth over my pussy and tasted me through the thin cotton of my panties, I moaned.

  Slowly, gently, Kent began to bite my pussy through my panties. The cotton dulled the edges of his teeth, and my legs trembled as he ran his rough hands over them, exploring the swell and fall of my thighs, the curve of my calves, the arch of my feet. My hands found his hair and I let myself revel in the feel of his hair—slightly oily but extremely thick—as it ran across my palms.

  His teeth found my clit and he nipped me lightly.

  A primal sound escaped me and my knees buckled. Then his hands were scrabbling at the waistband of my panties and dragging them down my legs while he angled his head and insinuated his tongue between my pussy lips, the rough surface dragging across my clit.

  My hands fisted in his hair, holding him close as he began a careful, deliberate, torturous rhythm. I was already so close to coming that the sweet sensation of his tongue was almost enough to push me over the edge.

  Almost, but not enough.

  My hips began to rock as he played with my clit, rolling it between his lips, sucking it as far into his mouth as he could, fluttering little figure eights over it. My body was so hot, and the little bathroom was getting unbearably steamy. I gasped for air as he pulled his tongue up, drawing my whole body with it until I stood on my tiptoes.

  Then he snaked a long, rough finger just inside my entrance and swirled the pad over something astonishing inside me.

  My toes curled and my whole body dissolved. My throat closed on my cry of ecstasy and I lost my footing, falling to the carpet, the delicious, rug-burning carpet, and Kent came after me, his hand following my slick cunt, stroking and stroking that magic spot inside me I'd never felt before as I thrashed and closed my legs, not sure if I wanted to stop him or to keep him there forever. The darkness fogged over with gray as my entire body rippled and contracted to that tiny point where he touched me.


  Then the weight of his body was on me, the fabric of his trousers rubbing deliciously over my bare skin and his hands were in my hair, his lips on mine. Hard, angular, he pressed me down, the bulge of his erection cradled against the inside of my thigh, and our moans filled the tiny black space, desire buoying us up and away, out of sense, out of mind, out of this world—

  Then Kent's phone rang.

  On top of me he stiffened.

  What? No! I thought. He'd been ignoring that fucking phone all day, and now it was important? Or did it just drag him back down to earth?

  Half-rolling off me, Kent banged into the cabinets below the sink, grunted with pain, and reached for his pocket.

  “Don't,” I begged him. I didn't mean to. It just came out.

  He hesitated for a moment, but then he drew his phone out. The screen was a bright window to reality in the hot, confined space of the bathroom. He stared at it for a moment, then sagged. My naked legs were still tangled with his, but I could feel him retreating, pulling away from me, and I didn't know how to bring him back. I wanted more of him. I needed more.

  But I wasn't going to get it. “I'm sorry,” Kent said, “but we have to go.” With almost clinical detachment, he disengaged from me, stood up, and flipped the light switch.

  I blinked in the sudden blinding flood of light as I scrambled to put my pants back on. I didn't know what to say. Kent had absolutely no clue how to do pillow talk.

  “Um,” I tried at last, “where are we going?”

  As I laced up my shoes, a humorless smile creased his lips.

  “We're going out for some on-the-job training,” he told me. “Get ready for your first assignment, Rebecca. Carter is at Sunset.”

  Chapter Seven

  I had no idea what “Sunset” meant, so I had to surreptitiously google it on my phone while Kent drove us angrily—as if there were any other way Kent could drive—out of Rose's neighborhood and back towards the glittering lights of Hollywood.

  After a few searches I figured out that Sunset meant the Sunset Club, the hottest, most exclusive nightclub in LA. Or at least it was for the next six months until something else came along and usurped it. The point was, it was hot right now, and that was where Carter had apparently gone, instead of home like he said he would.