by Nikki Sloane
“Yes,” I said, the nerves making it difficult to speak.
“I understand you’re looking for a one-night only sort of thing?”
“Right.” Payton had a contract. Not a legally binding one, since what she did was highly illegal, but she’d agreed to work a set number of nights at the club in exchange for a much larger percentage. “I don’t really think this is for me, but I—”
“You need the money,” he said. “I get it. I’ll extend a one-night contract to you because I trust Payton. She thinks once you’ve had a taste you’re going to want more.”
I highly doubted that, but kept my mouth shut. It was totally dry anyway.
“You’re very pretty. Can you take your hair down for me?”
My hands fumbled to release the ponytail, and then I let my straight, chestnut brown hair fall down in a wave.
“Have you ever gone darker?”
I shook my head. I liked being low maintenance, hence the hair thrown back in a ponytail.
“I’ll need to see the other assets you’ve got now, to ensure you’re the kind of woman our customers desire.”
The air in the room went thin. I knew this was coming thanks to Payton. And since we’d been roommates, it’s not like she hadn’t seen me naked before, but it offered me little comfort now. This was the moment it started to feel real.
My hands lifted the shirt up over my heaving chest and then over my head before I set it in Payton’s waiting arms. Joseph was calm and collected, not leering at me, which I appreciated. I hurried to undo my jeans and shoved them down over my hips. I wanted it over as soon as possible, but my haste made me clumsy and awkward. If he had expected a sexy striptease, he wasn’t getting one.
I passed my wadded jeans to Payton, who ignored my shaking hands.
“Very nice,” he said, making me believe he was satisfied, until he added, “Please continue.”
I twisted my arms behind my back and undid the clasp of my bra, my nervous fingers fumbling with the hook. I wasn’t overly shy about my body under normal circumstances, but standing in the cramped room with the harsh lighting and two pairs of eyes on me made everything upside-down. The straps slid off my shoulders and down my arms, falling to the floor.
I didn’t give myself time to check with him for feedback. I hooked my thumbs under the waistband of my panties and yanked them down my legs, leaving them beside my bra, on the floor. Then, I rose and set my hands on my hips and lifted my eyes to Joseph’s. I was naked and vulnerable, but struggled not to reveal any of the insecurity threatening to paralyze me.
“Can you turn?”
My feet were cinder blocks, but I complied. I finished the turn, looking at him for some sort of confirmation or disapproval. A lifetime passed and all he did was stare and evaluate. I ached for a response.
“Excellent,” he finally said, and gave me a crooked smile. “I have to gauge your level of comfort now.”
He stood and his hands undid his zipper. I hadn’t noticed that he was already semi-hard and bulging through his pants.
“What?” Instinctively I took a half-step backward.
He had his dick out in an instant, stroking himself until he was completely hard. “I want you to suck me off. Right now.”
“What?” I said again, my eyes darting to Payton. “Here?”
Was he serious? Payton had her lips pressed together, and then . . . she gave me the slightest nod. Oh, yes, he was serious.
“I need to know you’re not going to get cold feet with a client. If you can do this, I’ll feel comfortable putting you on the list.” While he talked, he continued to stroke himself slowly, and I couldn’t help but watch, hypnotized and disoriented.
“Evie—” Payton whispered.
Was she going to tell me not to? Because I’d already come too far to back down. The prints had been ordered, and I couldn’t get a loan or borrow from my parents, and Payton had blown all of her money on a new car.
“I can do this,” I said, more for myself than for anyone else. It’s not like this was the first blowjob I’d ever given, but it would undoubtedly be the least sexy. I took a tentative step forward and sank down before him, my knees resting on the cold, unforgiving tile.
I used a hand to tuck a lock of my wayward hair behind an ear. His dick was fat and hard, and right in front of my face. So I reached a hesitant hand out and wrapped my fingers around the firm flesh. My brain disconnected, I parted my lips, and slid him inside my mouth.
“Fuck, that’s good,” he whispered.
I was sure I would feel immediate revulsion, but instead I felt nothing. I wanted to focus and get my task done. I didn’t like failing. I pulled him out and then slid him back in until the head of his dick touched the back of my throat. You can do this, I repeated over and over, and when I began to bob my head on him, I started to believe.
“Use your tongue.” His breathing was ragged.
I obeyed his command, drawing a moan from him. I’d never had a guy tell me what to do before. I think usually they were just thrilled I was down there.
“Suck on it.”
I did, and he let loose another deep moan. Honestly, his commands made this easier, but after a while my knees began to hurt, so I picked up the pace.
“That’s so fucking hot,” I heard Payton say. I’d been concentrating so hard I’d forgotten she was right there, and if I didn’t have her pimp’s dick in my mouth, I might have told her to shut up. But that was the anger I felt toward myself, misdirected at her. She may have encouraged this, but she certainly hadn’t forced me.
“You like watching me fuck her mouth?” he asked her. “Yeah, me too. She’s going to make me come.”
A hand wound into my hair, and his other hand seized my head under my chin, using his grip to guide me to pick up the tempo. His hips thrust faster and deeper, just barely avoiding my gag reflex. It was an unfamiliar feeling, not having control, but a part of me didn’t mind. I kind of liked it, and admitting that to myself made a small wave of pleasure and desire wash over me.
“Swallow,” he ordered. Then he was coming violently, filling my mouth with hot, thick liquid.
I did as asked. As the pulsing inside my mouth began to ebb, I withdrew from him, and rose up from my tender knees, stunned that this hadn’t been that bad. If I was truthful with myself, his commands had turned me on a little. I’d felt eager to please him.
The room was warm, and both pairs of eyes were on me as if waiting for me to do or say something. I crossed my arms over my bare chest, feeling awkward and hot.
Joseph recovered and zipped up, looking rather smug.
“I told you she’d be good,” Payton said quietly.
“You can get dressed now,” my new pimp said. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
I sat in the stylist chair. My long, neglected hair had been trimmed into a swing cut, so it hung longest in the front and brushed just over my shoulders. Joseph chose a deep coffee color, and while I was seated, my hair drenched in hair dye, he presented me with a four-paged contract.
“Read it and let me know if you have questions,” he said. “I don’t want you to sign it today. Consider everything and make sure it’s what you want. If it is, I’ll need it back by Thursday.”
“If I do this, when does it happen?” I asked.
“Saturday.”
Oh, god. So soon. But maybe that was good. It gave me less time to talk myself out of it, and I’d need the money quickly if Logan were going to keep it off the books. “Do I get paid right away?”
“Normally no, but Payton told me you’re in a spot, so I’ll be understanding.”
“Thank you.” I figured it couldn’t hurt to be gracious.
He gave me a startled smile. “No, honey, thank you.” Then he left me alone to study the contract.
It wasn’t written in legalese. I would offer my body for sex or to fulfill whatever other desire the customer had, and in return I would receive money, minus a percentage going to the club. How many cl
ients I chose to service was my decision. The first page included what was required of me, which wasn’t much – arrive on time to the specified location, recently bathed, clean of any drugs, and not intoxicated. The percentage I received would be calculated when I returned my “willing list.”
The “willing list” was a menu of what I would allow clients to do to me. I didn’t think I was naïve until I scanned the two columns on the second page, and one-third of the things I’d never heard of. I’d have to ask Payton to explain them to me later.
The last two pages were more about security. Since the ‘employee’ would be restrained and blindfolded, there would be someone from the club with them until a deal had been reached, and there were security cameras. Which meant they’d be watching during the sex. It also outlined what would happen if a client became aggressive, or if at any point the employee wanted to stop. It was both reassuring and disturbing.
I hadn’t really thought about how dangerous it was, what Payton had been doing. She said she felt safe, and honestly, I didn’t ask a whole lot about it because it made me squeamish. Plus, she enjoyed it and I believed she knew what she was doing.
“Questions?” he asked when it was clear I’d finished.
“No, not right now.”
“Okay, I’d like to stick around and see the new you, but I should get going.” He handed me a card that was similar to the ones Payton passed out when trying to attract new clients. This one had a phone number printed on it instead of a web address. “Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”
I will admit the hair color and new cut looked great. But I barely got to enjoy it because as soon as I was done the stylist whisked me into the back, into the same room I’d knelt on the floor ninety minutes ago. My first Brazilian wax was excruciating, and I viewed it as excellent warm-up punishment for the stupid mistake I’d made. I’d never get a legal disclaimer wrong again.
Payton drove me home in her new black Jaguar, explaining the most unsavory items from the list like she was explaining something simple and not how a guy would want to urinate on me.
“I don’t think I can do this,” I said, feeling sick to my stomach.
“Just check the stuff you can handle. Half the stuff on my list no one’s even tried. Most guys just want to have sex. They come in the door with all these elaborate plans, but when they see you all tied up, waiting for them . . . it goes right out the window.” A wicked smile bloomed on her face. “I had one guy finish in less than two minutes. I probably should have given him his money back.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Rules are rules. It’s not my fault I’m that good.”
My eyes fell back to the list. “What’s Greek?”
“Anal.” Even though she was driving, she saw my pen move past that, leaving it blank. “Evie, you’ve got to check that box.”
“No way, no.” I capped the pen and put it in my purse. “It’s gross.” The irony was not lost on me. Most people would say having sex with a total stranger for money was gross.
“Get past your hang-ups. You might like it,” Payton said. “And seriously, you’ll never make enough in one night without it. Unless you want to do more than one guy.”
My shoulders slumped. The idea of one stranger was bad enough, but multiple? “Oh, god, no.”
“You’ve got, like, three things checked on that list. How are you going to know if you like stuff if you don’t try?”
“I think I’ll be trying enough new things that night, don’t you?”
She nodded, knowing when to stop pushing.
On Wednesday my nerves were wound tight as a spring. I feared the slightest push would snap the coil and I’d break apart. I used my lunch break to get tested and prove I was free of any STDs. Otherwise I stayed hidden at my desk, desperate to focus on anything other than Saturday.
The unsigned contract was tucked in my purse, whispering to me. I felt like I couldn’t escape, and yet the dirtiest part of me was excited. The ship would be leaving soon, and I was going to have to decide once and for all whether or not to get on board. I’d already made the decision, though, hadn’t I, in the back room of that salon? The memory made my stomach clench. As if on cue, my personal email chimed on my workstation. I thought it would be another daily pep talk from Payton. It was from Joseph, checking in. The email had the logo of the club in the corner, the same from the card, a classy black and white diamond shape with a modern font. Elegant. If it had been from anywhere else I would have added it to my inspiration folder.
“Planning on doing any work today?” Logan snapped. My cursor clicked the email closed as fast as possible. Of course he’d catch me in the one minute I’d taken a break. I spun in my chair, my face hot with embarrassment.
“I was working. Did you need something?” I said, desperate to sound normal and not guilty.
He towered over my chair, his face hard and cold. “The printer overnighted the sample to me. It’s on my desk.” He turned and went without a word, expecting me to follow.
He could have picked up the phone and called me into his office, but that wasn’t Logan’s style. He liked to float around the department and keep people on target. Jamie, three cubes to my right, liked to surf Pinterest all day, rather than work.
I’d only been in Logan’s office a handful of times, so each visit made me uncomfortable. He’d taken the management position a year ago, but hadn’t done much to decorate. Maybe he didn’t like the distraction of artwork on his walls.
He held out the proof for us both to examine.
“It was good work,” he said, “other than the sloppy mistake.” Well, if that wasn’t a backhanded compliment I don’t know what was. “If it had been anyone else, I would have let them go. You have to know you’re the best one out there.”
It was by far the nicest thing he’d ever said, and the power of his statement left me stunned. Yet he seemed completely unaware.
“When will you have the money?”
That brought reality crashing back down on me. “Saturday night.”
“Saturday night?” he asked, skeptical.
“I meant Monday,” I said quickly.
He gave me an odd look, but pressed forward. “Good. I’ll get the prints released to Player’s this afternoon.” He rounded his desk and dropped down into his chair, and when his attention went to his computer screen, it was like I ceased to exist to him.
I carried the new proof back to my desk and looked at it with bittersweet eyes. This was my art, paid for with my own money . . . well, with the money I’d make. There was no turning back, I told myself, when I hit “send” on a response to Joseph’s email, letting him know I’d signed the contract and would drop it off tonight. He emailed me back almost immediately and said to bring it with me on Saturday night.
It was done, and I was done worrying about this. I liked sex, so maybe I wouldn’t hate this. Hopefully.
Payton was on time, as usual, but I was running behind. As usual. She sat on the couch in the living area and watched me put makeup on through the open doorway of my cramped bathroom.
“I don’t know why you do this to yourself.”
She was talking about Blake, the man I’d been hopelessly in love with for the last year. I ignored her, swiping my lashes with mascara. Blake and I had met our freshman year in Art & Design 101. He was a programmer trying to keep his options open in case he wanted to shift into web design, but thank god he didn’t. He was all left-brain.
I had a boyfriend back then and mistook Blake’s friendliness for just that and not flirting. When my high school long-distance relationship collapsed, I wanted more than a shoulder to cry on from Blake, but he’d started dating someone the week before. Our horrible timing continued through college, through my semester abroad, until we both fell in love our senior year . . . with other people.
We drifted apart for a while, but reconnected when he moved to the city, and it was like no time had passed in our friendship. The longing for him flared
back up, stronger than before. But Blake wasn’t single. In fact, I suspected a marriage proposal wasn’t far off in his girlfriend’s future. In spite of everything, I liked her. Amy was geek-chic, a perfect match for him.
“It was nice of Amy to arrange to have her birthday on a Friday.” Payton picked at her nails. “Did you fill out any more boxes on your willing list?”
I paused at her sudden topic change, and then recapped my lipstick. “No.”
“Evie.” She directed a serious look at me through the mirror. “Please, check something else. Anything. I know how it works with the club. They’re already doing you a favor, they’re not going to do any more when it comes to the percentage.”
“Okay.” I wanted her off my back. I didn’t want to think about it, like a patient with an upcoming surgery.
They were already seated at the restaurant, surrounded by a few of Amy’s co-workers I didn’t know, when Payton and I arrived. Blake’s gaze connected with mine from across the room, and my heart beat faster. He was tall and lanky, just a few pounds of muscle short from being ripped. That was Amy’s doing; she’d gotten him hooked on going to the gym. He’d never looked better than he did now. His light brown hair curled over his ears in an effortless look that made me want to put my hands in it. He’d been an adorably cute boy in college, but now he was a flat-out beautiful man.
Fate had been so completely unfair to me. That was what I thought every time I saw him. His amber-colored eyes lit up when I came toward the table.
“Wow, your hair,” he said. “Looks nice.”
“Thanks.” I tried not to blush.
Conversation flowed easily between the group at first, but soon after it split down the center – Amy and her co-workers on one side, and Blake, Payton, and I on the other, although Payton never had much to say. I was surprised she’d agreed to come along. Payton and Blake were always friendly, but they were my friends and not friends with each other.
“What made you decide to go dark?” he asked, gesturing to my hair.
A huge grin spread across Payton’s face. “She’s going to be joining me at work.”