The Billionaire's Bargain (First Desire: Taming Savannah)

by Denise Avery

  “What?” Savannah said, “Are you surprised or something?”

  “Um... A little!” Claire cried.

  “What,” Savannah said, expasperated, “You think that all this just pays for itself? That’s a sixty dollar bottle of vodka you’ve got mixed into that little cocktail. I have to have some way of making money, don’t I?”

  “But Savannah... Isn’t that kind of work so degrading? And dangerous? And just... gross?”

  “Gross?” Savannah said, “You think that I’m gross?”

  “No!” Claire said, “No, of course not! But selling your body for money, it’s just... It’s so beneath you, Savannah.”

  “Why?” Savannah laughed, “Because I’m getting my degree, and was lucky enough to be born in America, and all that? Let me tell you something, Claire. Sex sells. And it sells well. I’m just using my god-given gifts to make a living. It’s the American Dream. Or some version of it.”

  “I’m not buying it,” Claire said.

  “I’m not asking you to,” said Savannah.

  The girls were locked in a stalemate of silence. Neither was about to give ground, that much was sure. After being friends for long, there was no element of deferring in their relationship. Each girl stood fast by what she believed and took no shit from the other. That was why they had stayed such good friends, because neither compromised who she was for the benefit of the other’s feelings. After a long, tense moment, Claire let out a defeated sigh.

  “Well,” she said slowly, “Are you at least being... Safe?”

  “What do you mean, ‘safe’”? Savannah said bitterly.

  “Come on. You know what I mean,” Claire said, “Are you being safe. When you have sex with these guys?” Savannah’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.

  “What?!” she cried.

  “When you do the deed,” Claire repeated, “Do you have, like, condoms? And—”

  “Claire! Hold up! I’m not having sex with anyone!”

  “But... You just said—”

  “I said that I’m getting paid for sex. And I am! But not, like, actual physical sex!”

  “Well, why didn’t you just say that?!” Claire cried.

  “I never thought your mind would go there!” Savannah said, huffily. “Not that there’s anything wrong with sex work, mind you. I’m just surprised that that’s where your mind went first.”

  “Can you blame me?” Claire said, exasperated, “Usually when someone says—”

  “Ok, Ok. I’m sorry. I should have clarified.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll explain everything,” Savannah said, “Come with me.”

  The girls wandered the short distance from the kitchen to the bedroom. The two spaces were separated by a flimsy bead curtain. Extra space came hard in the city, that was for sure. But now that Claire was getting a better idea about how Savannah paid her rent, she was happy that her friend was willing to settle for just a little less.

  Claire looked around the teeny bedroom. It looked different than the last time she had seen it, she realized. It was... glitzier. Girlier than it had been before. Whereas before there had been a few clothes drawers tucked under the bed and a bunch of band posters, now there were all sorts of frilly adjustments. There were pink sheets, posters of Audrey Hepburn, and even a row of convincing wigs. Claire stepped cautiously, as if into a minefield.

  “What... What is all of this?” She asked. Savannah spread her arms wide, gesturing to the new frilly space.

  “Welcome to my studio!” she cried, beaming at her wigs and cosmetics, “This is where all the magic happens!”

  “Studio... Magic...?” Claire was entirely lost. Savannah sighed impatiently.

  “I have to walk you through everything, don’t I?” Savannah asked, exasperatedly. “This is where I film.”

  “Film?” Claire asked.

  “Yeah. Film.”

  “Film what?”

  Savannah buried her face into her hands, beginning to be annoyed with her friend’s innocence. Could it be possible that Claire just couldn’t connect the dots herself? Savannah was appalled at the prospect of that being the case. To think that they had spent their entire lives together, only for Claire to turn out to be a total prude? Maybe, Savannah thought guiltily, I stole all the sex drive between us while we were still in the womb! Like some freaky osmosis shit? She suddenly felt badly for giving Claire such a hard time.

  “Ok,” Savannah said evenly, sitting down on the bed and patting the space beside her, “Just come here. I’ll tell you all about it.” Claire sat down, looking over her friend with concern in her eyes.

  “Savannah,” Claire said cautiously, “Are you... Are you shooting porn in here?”

  “No,” Savannah said slowly, “Well, not exactly.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Ok. Let me try and explain,” Savannah started. “You are, of course, familiar that many things happen on the internet besides term paper research and Neopets, right?”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m an infant, Savannah.”

  “Sorry. As you probably know, many of the things happening on the internet are of a sexual nature. Many, many of the things. I, Savannah, your best friend on the planet who it would be super rude of you to judge, is engaged in some of those sexy things.” Savannah waited for Claire to interrupt, but she held her tongue and waited for Savannah to go on. “So, here’s the deal. I don’t make porn videos. I don’t meet up with guys for sex. I’ve never once performed a sexual act on somebody for money. But...”

  “But?” Claire prodded.

  “I do communicate with people. Mostly men. There are these websites that you can sign up for where you basically live chat with guys from around the world from your own room. You make an account, and an alias, and all that, and then you put yourself out there. Guys can go all over the website and check out different pictures until they find a girl that they want to live chat with. Sometimes you’ll get a lot of guys interested in talking to you all at once when you’re online, and one of them will ask to chat privately with you.”

  “Ok...” Claire said cautiously, “So, what happens when a guy wants to live chat with you?”

  “Just about anything you can imagine!” Savannah laughed. Claire was not as amused.

  “So you just, like... Perform for these pervs?”

  “They’re not pervs!” Savannah scowled, “They’re just guys with particular interests!”

  “Fetishes, you mean?”

  “Fetish is not a dirty word, Claire. You’d know that if you took your virginity off the shelf and dusted it once in a while.”

  “I’m not a virgin!”

  “You’ve had sex with one guy. In high school. You’re totally still a virgin.”

  Claire glared at Savannah, fuming. The gaping void between the girls’ sexual experiences had never been an issue in the past. Savannah had been an early bloomer, while Claire had taken a while to become comfortable enough in her own skin to give guys a try. Savannah felt terrible immediately for trying to make Claire feel bad about her lack of experience where men were concerned. Some days, Savannah was even jealous about how pure Claire seemed compared to her. Savannah had, after all, started having sex at the ripe age of fourteen. Maybe she should have waited until she was older to jump into the fray, but she’d always been a sexual creature. What was a girl to do?

  Still, it was pretty lame of Claire to be so judgmental of Savannah like this. This girls didn’t fight often, but when they did, it was explosive. Savannah could feel both of their emotions rising to a boiling point, and new that this was going to be one of those horrible times that friendships have to survive in order to thrive.

  Claire picked herself up off the bed and made her way to the kitchen to collect her belongings. Savannah did not try to stop her, knew that she had to make her grand exit if they were going to have any hope of reconciling later. After she had rustled around the kitchen getting her things together, Claire poked her head back through
the bead curtain, fixing her eyes on Savannah.

  “You know,” Claire said, “I would never look down on you for the way that you live your life. I’ve always known about your promiscuity, and your countless lovers, and everything. But I love you enough to accept you the way you are. The only reason I said anything at all is because I love you, and I’m worried about you. But if you want to jump down my throat about it, that’s your own problem. This one’s on you, buddy.”

  And with that, she stormed out of the apartment. Savannah sat motionless in the wake of her best friend’s departure. Her hands were shaking from the strain of keeping her cool in the face of Claire’s rebuffing. Savannah couldn’t understand why Claire was being so unreasonable about her new online endeavor. The whole thing was perfectly safe, clean, and it made her plenty of money. So, what could possibly be the problem? Oh, sure, it wasn’t for everyone. But Savannah was one oversexed little girl. She benefitted from online “modeling” as much as the guys did. It was a great way for her to blow off steam at the end of the day, even if the day had consisted of little more than fucking.

  In fact, Savannah decided that she could use a cool-off session right then and there. Her fight with Claire was going to be a long, drawn-out affair—she just knew it. The girls did not fight passively. They iced each other out, cut ties, and retreated, only to return for one all-out verbal brawl in which all grievances were aired and all secrets rehashed. After these wild bitching sessions, the girls were able to go back to being friends with a clean slate. But the time between the inception of the fight and its conclusion always took a toll on Savannah. Luckily for her, she had a new outlet that might prove to be just the antidote to what ailed her.

  Savannah pulled herself up off the bed and went to her wardrobe. She surveyed her collection of wigs, costumes, makeup and jewelry. Who was she going to be tonight? The thing was that, unlike many online models, Savannah was not content with just one alternate identity, one “stage name”, as it were. For an appetite as insatiable as Savannah’s, multiple personalities needed to come into play. Perhaps it was an unconventional way to approach this kind of work, but on the other hand, what would be a conventional way?

  Since she had started modeling nearly six months ago, Savannah had developed four alter egos. Each version of herself had her own account on the video chatting site, each had her own personality, likes, specialties, rules, and followers. This multiplicity allowed Savannah to rake in four times the amount of money she usually would, because each personality appealed to a certain kind of man.

  First, there was Candace—the All-American girl. For Candace, Savannah wore a long blonde wig and lots of lingerie that came from places like J Crew and American Eagle. Candace was a perpetually sunny, Californian beauty who loved all things that were pink, and mellow, and simple. This alter ego was, ostensibly, enrolled as a journalism student at a good state school in California, and modeled to help defray the costs of her tuition. She was kind of a West Coast version of Savannah, and the first of her alternate identities. Candace appealed to younger guys, more than anyone.

  Next, there was Colby. Colby was, above all else, a total geek. Savannah would wear a short, severe bob with Betty Paige bangs whenever she played Colby, and wear a lot of wrist bands and spikey jewelry. Colby was from Nebraska—a tiny town in the middle of nowhere where no one understood her very well. She loved Battlestar Galactica and her cat, Fido, and appealed to the guys out in the world who had always felt like outcasts themselves.

  Then, there was Elvi. This was Savannah’s exotic alter-ego. For Elvi, Savannah curled her hair out until it was a tangled, luscious mess, hanging all over her shoulders in tantalizing tendrils. Elvi spoke with a vaguely Eastern European accent, though she’d never say where she was from. Her story was that she had emigrated from America after escaping from an emotionally abusive home life. Unfortunately, Elvi attracted a lot of similarly abusive guys who like to hurl nasty words Savannah’s way. But she figured that maybe she may be able to help rectify their opinion of the female race. Eventually.

  The final alter-ego was Tracie. Tracie was a teen mother living in the Appalachian hills of West Virginia. She wore a messy brown up-do for her video sessions and smoked like a chimney while she performed. Tracie was, at the end of the day, Savannah’s most popular character. Men (and women) from all walks of life couldn’t get enough of Tacie’s audacity and nerve. The gentle twang in her voice probably didn’t hurt much, either. Or the fact that she claimed to be able to whip up a mean apple cobbler. Tracie was the most human, the most fallible, of all the characters. It didn’t surprise Savannah that people were so drawn to her. She was a little drawn to Tracie herself.

  But loyalties aside, who did Savannah feel like being that night? She could use a good turn as the dejected Colby, but thought that might make her too sad. Tracie was too optimistic for the way that Savannah was feeling right now, and Elvi attracted the wrong sort for when Savannah was feeling down like this. She decided that Candace was the best pick for that evening. Candace’s admirers were rarely too fresh or demanding.

  Savannah donned Candace’s signature blonde wig and pulled the locks back into a messy ponytail. She hopped onto her bed and logged onto her video-chatting website. In no time at all, she was connected, and waiting for people to get in touch with her. This didn’t usually take very long. Each of Savannah’s characters had quite a few fans. And even aside from the regulars, each version was pretty inherently attractive. She got hits from newbies all the time.

  After a few moments of waiting, a private chat request popped up on Savannah’s screen. Wow, she thought, skipping right over the introductions, are we? Someone must be excited to get started. She accepted the invitation, and a video chat screen popped up on her computer. She squinted at the image, but the figure on the other side of the connection was hazy.

  “Hey,” she drawled in her best California manner.

  “Hey,” said the voice of a young man. Of course, Savannah thought, the young ones always line up for Candace, don’t they?

  “What brings you here this evening?” Savannah asked.

  “Oh,” the young man said, “Just looking for a little company. It’s been a really rough day.”

  “Yeah?” Said Savannah, leaning forward so that her modest cleavage was as bared as it could be without giving away the punchline, “You wanna tell me about it?”

  “Okay...”

  “You’ve got to tip me, first,” Savannah said.

  “Huh?”

  “You have to tip me if you want to stay on the line. That’s how this site works. We go into private chat, and you pay me by the minute, plus extra if you want me to do anything but just sit here all night.”

  “Oh.”

  “Haven’t you ever used a site like this?”

  “No... No, I haven’t.”

  “I see...”

  “Ok... Let me just...”

  A little “ca-ching” noise sounded on Candace’s end of the transmission, signaling that her chat buddy had sent a little something extra her way.

  “Proceed,” she prompted.

  “Well, it’s just that there’s this girl in a few of my classes—”

  “High school classes?”

  “College.”

  “Sorry, I can’t see your face in that lighting. You sound pretty young.”

  “Gee. Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. So, this girl?”

  “Yeah. She’s driving me nuts. I mean, I know that she’s totally out of my league, but I see something... vulnerable in her. And I can’t get her off my mind.”

  “And you want me to help you? Get her off your mind?”

  “That’d be nice.”

  “No problem. What would you like?”

  “Do you... Uh... Have an suggestions?”

  “I could take my top off?”

  “Okay.”

  “Tip please.”

  Ca-ching, went the computer, and Savannah smiled. This was going to be a
good haul, she could tell. With practiced ease, she loosened the strap of her halter top, allowing the garment to fall slowly away from her breasts. Her viewer gasped as he realized that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  “Surprised?” she said, “Just you wait.”

  As the sound of the boy’s breathing began to quicken, Savannah ran her hands down the length of her body and brought them to rest on her breasts. Gently, she closed the thumbs and forefingers around her nipples and pinched, remembering the way Gus had sent her over the edge earlier that day. Remembering him, and pushed along by the excited breathing on the other end of the line, Savannah felt herself becoming wet. This was by far the best part of the job—that she got to get herself off while someone else footed the bill.

  She pinched and tweaked her nipples, pulling herself onto her knees in front of the webcam so that her watcher had a better view.

  “That’s... That’s great...” he said.

  “Want me to do more?”

  Ca-ching.

  Savannah smiled to herself. She let her fingers trace an excruciatingly slow trail down her flat stomach, letting the anticipation of the moment drive her viewer up the wall. With her tits already fully bared, Savannah unclasped the back of her skirt, letting the loose cotton fall away. She was wearing a pair of hipster panties. She’d come to understand, through her dealings with the opposite sex, that a thong was not the best way to go, in most cases. Most men liked to see a little juvenile vulnerability once the skirt or pants were gone. And nothing says, “fuck me gently”, like a pair of modest briefs.

  “What do you think?” Savannah said, “Should I take them off?”

  Ca-ching.

  “Not so fast,” she said, crawling toward the camera with her tits on full display, “What’re you up to over there?”

  “What do you mean?” said her mystery viewer.

  “I mean, do you have it out?” she said.

  “Do I...?”

  “Aren’t you gonna touch yourself?” she asked incredulously.

  “I... hadn’t thought about it.”

  “Come on,” she coached, “I want you to get your money’s worth. Whip that bad boy out. I can’t see a thing!”