by Claire Adams
The problem with looking good was that everybody thought that they were entitled to a piece of me. I was the one, the knight in shining armor—the subject of their wet dreams. They thought fate would pull us together, and that somehow, their fairy godmother would give them a dress beautiful enough to get me to marry them.
It had always been this way, but it started to get out of control when I made my first million. Women could smell it. They saw the labels on my clothes, the expensive cars, and the house, and knew right away that I was the one. It got so bad that I had to worry about my safety. I moved out of my million-dollar, two-story home into a gated fortress. I had cameras and motion sensors installed, and I even took armored cars to big events.
This paranoia and disillusionment kept me from making meaningful contact with others, and it was terrible, but I couldn’t have it any other way. How could I respect people when I saw what happened when they found out I was rich? I certainly couldn’t respect women. They shamelessly hunted me down. They blew my phone up, and when they finally realized that I wasn’t ready to marry them, they turned bitter, even violent. More than one girl had lost her mind over me.
The sex made it even worse. I’d tasted every flavor, from dark chocolate to creamy yellow, women that most men could barely dream of, but not one them was enough to satisfy me. Looks mattered, but substance mattered even more.
Substance was dangerous. It meant the possibility of attachment, and ultimately heartbreak, but I was an addict, and I was building up a tolerance. I needed something more potent.
Traffic moved slowly until I passed the club and moved into the office district. I hit a red light two blocks up and leaned my head back.
I was tired. Work was tedious, and the last thing I wanted to do was sit around waiting. A hipster bar on the corner caught my eye. It had a seating area that’d been closed off with a rusted fence, and a blonde woman leaned against the fence, staring at her phone.
She wasn’t perfect. Her nose was too big, and her hair was dull, but she had a nice body, and she wasn’t gawking at my car like it was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen. She didn’t even look up from her phone. I couldn’t help but think that she had a lot of the qualities I wanted.
I didn’t need a pair of $15,000 breasts or skin dyed a ridiculous shade of orange. I needed somebody real who didn’t have to spend six hours in front of the mirror every morning. Someone who didn’t obsess over whether their nose was the perfect width. This girl was casual—natural. I needed somebody like that.
I decided to call my guy Tony.
“What up?” Just the sound of his voice made me shiver. I imagined him sitting in his back office surrounded by mounds of cocaine and a pair of girls on either arm. The truth was probably toned down a bit, but I wasn’t too far off.
“Hey, Tony.” I was always neutral with him. Just like with any thug, you didn’t want to sound too eager. They’d try to take advantage of you. But I didn’t want to sound aggressive, either. It would make him feel threatened.
“You looking for something sexy to sink your dick into?” His voice went low, as if he didn’t want anyone to hear him. “I just got these twins. You gotta try them. They’ll hop right on it.”
“Not tonight,” I said.
“Come on, man. You’re missing out. Triple Ks. I’m not even kidding. They’re like beach balls.”
I tried to block the image out. “I was thinking of something a little different.”
“I’m down with that.”
“No, I—look, I was downtown a couple hours ago, and I saw this girl. She had long legs, a tight little butt with short blonde hair. Nothing fake about her.”
“Yeah, I got you. I just got a new girl in—fucking sexy. All natural. I’ll send her down tomorrow. When do you want her?”
“Six, and don’t put her in one of those ridiculous costumes you get at the dollar store.”
“Hey, those are top of the line, man. I have them custom-made.” He sounded like was ready to fight.
“Alright, just send her down, and no collagen this time. That shit was ridiculous.”
“Cindy? I don’t know what you’re talking about. She’s all natural.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“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 4
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 know. 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?”<
br />
“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 5
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.