by Liv Bennett
I gasp and pant in desperation, as the friction of his finger inside me has me trembling with an agonizing need for release. Panic rises inside me when he stops his movements.
“Please, don’t stop,” I mumble, fearful of not being able to get the relief my body demands.
“Do you want it?”
“Oh, yes, please,” I cry, my desire too great to contain.
As if my begging meant nothing, he yanks his finger out of me, cutting all the physical contact between us, and moves away.
“Do you honestly think you deserve my affection?” are the last words leaving his mouth, before I hear the door shut behind me.
Chapter 1
~
Present
The café is bustling with customers as usual for seven-thirty in the morning. Although Chris and I do our best, there’s a long line of impatient customers waiting to get their morning fix of our house-roasted coffee.
My stomach rumbles as I place the order for the lady who’s requested two sesame bagels with cream cheese and two muffins. I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday, and as it turns out nineteen hours on an empty stomach isn’t the best condition for working as a barista. Drawing in a long breath of air to calm my raging stomach, I look up at the next customer with my practiced smile.
“Good morning. What can I get for…” My lips stop moving, and my jaw drops while I gape at the customer moving to the register.
I must have gone into a hunger-induced coma and be hallucinating the prettiest set of blue eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re magnetic, sizzling and hold my gaze for longer than would be considered normal. Of course, the rest of the client’s face matches up to the beauty of his eyes. Smooth skin flawlessly shaved, strong jaw, classical Roman nose, full lips that are twitching up at the corner in amusement. His masculine scent is pushing my mind into the unforgiving hands of euphoria and…suddenly I realize a significantly long moment must have passed since my coma started.
I blink my eyes several times and give my head a quick shake to dissolve the dream away and get back to my day. When I finally glance back at him again, the shock of seeing him hits me with the same strong blow. Perhaps due to seeing my confusion, he starts drinking me in as well, and as his eyes roam over my neck and chest, I feel my breathing falter and my heart race with excitement.
Chris calls the next customer to the cash register beside me, and I hear the lady in a nurse’s uniform making tsk sounds in my direction before she gives her order to Chris. That’s my clue to get back to my job.
“What can I get for you?” I mumble, tearing my gaze away from Mr. Magnetic Eyes’ face, which seems to be the root of my imbalance. However, it’s hard to escape his hypnotic pull because now my gaze is stuck on his exquisite suit that, I have no doubt, is hiding a trim athletic body.
He’s very tall, easily six-feet-three, and when he moves toward the counter, he spreads his arms on both sides of the cash register, his gorgeous torso encompassing my entire view. A cold shiver runs down my spine. My stomach flutters at the sight of the endlessly wide shoulders and chest. It’s a welcome change from all the embarrassing sounds of growling I’ve had to endure.
Despite the awkwardness of it all, I continue studying the only male who has managed to pull me away from the troubling thoughts of my constant hunger and the rent that’s due in two days, the poverty I haven’t been able to escape in my nineteen years. Which reminds me of the fact that I should pay attention to his order if I want to keep my eight-dollar-an-hour job with its shifts that prevent me from being able to work a second job to keep me afloat.
Magnetic Eyes’ smile grows, and he places a twenty-dollar note next to the cash register. “A small cappuccino with four shots,” he says. I guess he has realized my nonstop worship and is kind enough not to put me under the spotlight. “Keep the change,” he adds.
That’s sixteen dollars and fifty-one cents and for me two-weeks’ worth of dinner money. I’m too poor to argue with him about his unusual generosity and give him my thanks with a soft voice while slipping the change into the back pocket of my jeans.
Chris takes over the next client while I prepare the order for Magnetic Eyes. Keeping my gaze fixed on the coffee machine, rather than on him, requires intense self-control. And of course I fail and allow my eyes to indulge in him one last time.
Jesus! He’s so very hot, like Hollywood star hot, and I feel the room getting too warm. Just as I start admiring the details of his stunning features, the subtle shake of his head as if to say ‘don’t’ makes me snap my attention back to the coffee machine just in time to keep from spilling cappuccino all over the floor.
He’s wealthy and too handsome for the majority of women. I’m poor and so very ugly; I don’t even have the right to look at him for longer than necessary.
Gulping down my disappointment and unending frustration with life, I place his cappuccino on the counter and call out his order loudly, although he’s right behind the counter. I don’t dare glance up at him when he says “thank you,” but I don’t miss the woman he walks out of the café with.
Of course, he’s with a woman. What else would an overly hot and wealthy man walk around with? A Chihuahua?
Anger at myself for wasting my limited energy on unnecessary thoughts of a man floods my chest. I haven’t eaten anything since lunch yesterday. If I don’t calm my hunger soon, I’ll pass out and possibly get very sick, and any illness right now will definitely cause me to wind up being homeless.
The unbearable hunger makes me come close to stopping a customer from throwing a half-eaten bagel in the trash, but I manage to control myself in the last second as I remember the sixteen unexpected dollars Magnetic Eyes left me with. I can have a full lunch with it. The only thing I have to work on is not passing out for the next three hours until my break.
Tom, the owner of the café, comes out of his office and crooks his finger at me to call me to his office. I nod and hurry toward him. “Did you need something?” I ask as cheerily as I can with my quickly diminishing energy level.
“Come on in.” He walks into his office and closes the door when I follow him in.
With my heart up in my throat, I watch him settle behind his desk. Just yesterday, he fired a barista claiming she was embezzling, but we all knew it was his way of downsizing.
When he lifts his hand and starts scratching the back of his head, looking uncomfortable, I sense I’m the next to be laid off. It’s a crappy job but it’s the only café I can walk to from my home and not have to juggle busses. As it turns out, L.A. isn’t exactly the place to live without a car, and I’ve never been able to save more than $200, which means I have to depend on buses and my feet for the foreseeable future.
“You don’t look good. Is everything okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine. It’s just…that time of the month.” Where the only food my finances allows me to eat is peanut butter sandwiches.
“Oh, okay… Ahh, the reason I wanted to talk to you is that…the business has been very slow the last couple of months,” he starts, and I feel lightheaded both with hunger and worry that I’m about to lose my job and have to look for something new. I’m one paycheck away from winding up on the streets, and if I have to look for another job, I might as well invest my last dollars into a quality sleeping bag.
“I won’t be able to pay this month’s paycheck on time,” he adds.
I blink in confusion. I’m not the next downsizing victim? I never thought having a delay in receiving my salary would make me feel so relieved.
“Here’s your paycheck for half your salary, and I’ll pay the other half within two weeks.”
I almost chuckle in happiness as I take the check from his hand and thank him before leaving his office. Despite Tom’s claims about the slow business, more customers line up in front of the cash registers. Quickly, I pour a glass of water, gulping it down to calm my growling stomach, and return to the cash register.
“What can I get for you?” I ask with a smile
and glance at the beautiful, tall, blonde lady before me. Is there a film shooting nearby? I mean, what’s up with all these gorgeous and wealthy people invading our humble little café only nerds and elderly people normally frequent?
“Fifteen minutes of your time?” she says, intensifying my curiosity. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Loraine Carter. I’d like to have a little chat with you about a problem of mine if that’s okay with you. I’ll pay you for the time I’ll be stealing you from your work.”
Narrowing my eyes in suspicion, I study her black dress and Louise Vuitton handbag. These wealthy people… They think they can get anything by mentioning money. “I can’t take a break right now. Would you like something to drink?”
She pulls a wide red purse out of her expensive handbag and takes a fifty-dollar bill out of it, placing it with an unmatched elegance on the counter. “Could I please steal your colleague for fifteen minutes?” she asks to Chris, pushing the money toward him.
“Sure,” Chris replies eagerly and takes the money. “Go ahead. I can handle the customers.”
“Please,” the lady in the black dress says softly to me, and I shrug and follow her to a table outside, wondering what kind of topic she wants to discuss with me that’s worth fifty dollars.
“Thank you for agreeing to talk.” She sits down on the chair gracefully, crossing her legs immediately, and places her handbag on the table. “I’ll keep it brief for you.”
I nod and settle into the chair, keeping my hands in the pockets of my apron. She has perfectly styled, light blonde hair reaching her shoulders, and bright green eyes. Her earrings and necklace are a thick set made of gold and probably cost a few thousand dollars, ditto for her black, body-hugging dress. Her skin is smooth, her makeup perfect as the rest of her appearance. What can such a perfect-looking and wealthy woman want to talk to a poor barista like me about? It’s not like she loved the way I pour the coffee out of the coffee machine and now wants to have me as her personal coffee-pourer.
“I’d like to hire you as a nanny for my two kids,” she starts.
“Excuse me?” Coffee-pourer would have been less awkward since she doesn’t have a single idea about my child-care skills. For all she knows, I might be into child pornography and record her kids naked while bathing. Sick people are everywhere. That’s why a responsible parent should run background checks and call a variety of references to make sure her kids are safe. I assume safety isn’t on her priority list.
“Yes,” she smiles and continues explaining with a gentle and friendly tone. “I need a nanny, but your main job won’t be exactly looking after my kids. They go to daycare from eight ‘til five and I’ll be with them and with you the rest of the time. You won’t really have to be their nanny in the real sense.”
Her explanation makes me even more confused. “I don’t understand.”
“I need you to pretend to be my children’s nanny, but your main duty will be…ahh, it’ll sound very strange and I apologize for that, but… I’ll need you to seduce my husband.” Just when I start rolling my eyes, she leans forward and holds my elbow with a careful tug of her hand. “Please, don’t go yet. Before you dismiss my proposal, it involves a lot of money. Like the kind of money that you won’t have to work as a barista ever in your life again.”
I swallow, curious and scared in equal amounts. She might be a Madame of a bordello on the lookout for her next virgin prostitute. Only I’m not a virgin and prostitution is really the last resort I’ll consider and that is only if I face jail time for my debts.
“My husband is a very wealthy man,” she continues. “And I want to divorce him. But, because of our prenup, I’ll most likely end up with a measly alimony and child support. I want half of his assets, and getting him to cheat on me is the only way I can get what I deserve.”
I have serious doubts about her sight. Surely, it can’t be as good as her looks if she’s considering me appealing enough to seduce anyone, especially a rich man. She’s a solid ten on the attractiveness scale, and I’d be probably five if I put on a revealing dress and get my hair done professionally. How can she expect me to seduce a husband who is used to her level of beauty? That is, if I were to accept her offer.
“Ma’am, thank you for considering me for the job you have in mind, but I’m an ordinary girl. I might be dirt poor, but I work my ass off so I don’t end up sucking someone’s dick off of the street. What you’re offering me is exactly that. I won’t become a whore to your husband no matter how much money you offer me.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. Believe me, I love my husband and would remain married to him if it was up to me. But—” Her gaze falls on her hands on the table, and her lips begin trembling, signaling a sob that’s coming any second. “—He’s not the man I married. He’s always been very attractive, and he’s become very wealthy. But recently, he’s become the center of attention since he appeared as the hottest five up-and-coming businessmen of the nation in a popular magazine. He’s getting hundreds of love letters and emails every day from gorgeous women who are more than willing to become his whore for nothing. He probably wouldn’t marry me if I met him now. I don’t think he’s cheating on me at the moment, but he’s only human and will eventually succumb to his weakness. I don’t want to be unprepared when he does. I want to control it when the worst case scenario happens. I want my husband to cheat on me with you so I have proof of his adultery and can use it against him in court.”
She straightens up and looks right into my eyes. “I love him very much, but this suspicion and the fear that he’ll leave me for another woman is killing me. I don’t want to be hurt. And the only way to avoid it is having control of it.”
She sounds genuine, and as silly as it may sound, I feel sorry for her. I take a long breath and glance up at her with a smile on my lips. “You don’t know if your husband will find me attractive. In fact, I can assure you he won’t even take a second look at me, if what you’re saying is true about beautiful women throwing themselves at him. I’m not pretty.” Hearing the truth about my looks from my own mouth makes my stomach churn in disgust. I don’t have money. I don’t have beauty in any sense. All I have is my drive to make it one more day in this ugly world without getting sick or having to beg someone else for food or shelter.
“You might not be beautiful in the traditional sense, but I witnessed earlier how my husband sized you up and down. The way he looked at you reminded me of the first time he laid eyes on me. It made me sad catching him eyeing a young girl as if he could fuck you right there and then, if the circumstances allowed. Believe me, I’ve seen him surrounded by women, but never once saw him glancing at any of them the way he looked at you.”
She must have a different idea about her husband’s attractiveness if he indeed looked at me for longer than half a second. I slip a hand out of my pocket and tug at the collar of my shirt in discomfort. “I don’t feel good about the prospect of becoming someone’s whore, a married man no less.”
“Please, don’t dismiss my offer just yet. Your help will mean a lot to me, and I’ll reward you with a lot of money and other benefits. I have a wide network of friends, and if you want I can get you enrolled in a university of your preference, or get you a corporate job in addition to the money I’ll pay you. Whatever you want, I promise you’ll get it. And, if I didn’t misinterpret the way you checked out my husband, you liked him, too.”
“I’m not sure you saw it right. I don’t check out customers. Ever.”
“You do, my dear.” She gets her phone out of her bag and pushes it up close to my face. I glance down at the screen and see in embarrassment the picture of her husband, Magnetic Eyes, who tipped me sixteen dollar earlier. In my defense, my empty stomach and the shock of the offer had caused me to forget about the brief encounter with him.
“He’ll give you the time of your life,” Loraine continues. “I can assure you that. He’s a sex god in bed.”
“This is ridiculous. Sorry, but there’s no way I c
an have sex with your husband, no matter how sexy he is.” I push to my feet and start to head toward the entrance of the café. Chris must be already freaking out for having to attend the customers all by himself.
“Wait,” she yells behind me, her voice loud enough to make my head turn. “Here. A thousand dollars in cash just so you think it over tonight.”
My eyes land on the stash of money she drops on the table. A thousand dollars just like that? My goodness, how much money is she planning to pay me in exchange for my non-existent dick-sucking skills? Her offer might be an insult to my dignity, but I won’t turn my back on money that basically requires nothing on my part. A thousand dollars means two months worry-free for me or finally buying a car and not being dependent on buses to get around in L.A.
“Deal.” I nod, much too quickly, and walk back to the table to get the money before she realizes she’s practically throwing it away.
She pushes the money toward me and then crosses her arms on her chest. “If you accept, I’ll hire you for five months, and you’ll get paid $4000 a month salary as a nanny. You’ll receive it no matter what. But, if you can get my husband to sleep with you and have photos to prove it, I’ll pay you another $200,000. I’ll say it again, the $20,000 from the nanny job will be yours no matter what.”
She’s filthy rich but not very clever for not considering the possibility that I can basically attend her kids without even moving a finger to seduce her husband.
As if reading my mind, she adds, “You’ll follow my plan verbatim to be able to keep your job for five months. The minute I notice negligence from your side, you’ll find yourself out the door. That’s my only condition.”
I let out a long breath and grab the stash of money, glancing left and right to make sure none of my colleagues witness the transaction.
“This is my card.” She places a business card on the table and gets up. “I’ll be expecting your call by this time tomorrow. Don’t make me wait too long.”