12. Sebastian
Chapter 12
Sebastian
I sat there looking at my phone right after I sent the text, giving her full access to my media storage. I wonder if she knew the kind of power she had over me. Fuck, why was I sweating? I got up, anxiously pacing around my living room as I received a ping to my email inbox giving me a heads-up that someone was in my online storage. Okay, so she clicked it.
My stress level was through the roof; as much as sex work had become normalized, it was still stigmatized, and in my family, being the only male? It was social and financial suicide, not just for me but for my grandfather. And anything that fucked with his money was taken care of immediately. I knew that he would demand any investment he had made into my and my sister's future be paid in full immediately, reminding me that my father was a poor excuse for a man and it was my job to make up for his failures.
However, this was also the only way I'd been able to make that kind of money without my grandfather Charles's involvement. Everything I made in his company, I put back into my college debt, saving enough to look like I was living off the wage he paid me.
I hated thinking about my debt to my grandfather; so instead I allowed my mind to wander back to when I first met her. The day Georgia Clark showed up. Her hand-me-down uniform and old sneakers that had been cleaned to look new, but their laces were worn. Her brown hair in its kitchen-scissor haircut with coke bottle glasses that sat precariously on the end of her nose while she stared at the blackboard with the intensity of someone curing cancer. I knew I had my work cut out for me when she showed up in a few of my classes, never talking unless she was asking a question or answering one from the teacher.
The girl always had a ratty notebook in her book bag that went everywhere with her, but she never used it while taking notes. I saw it open in the library while she ate a sandwich, which the librarian pretended not to see, as she always sat alone anyway.
The last semester of high school, I worked my ass off, but it was one day in science after I had stayed up too late studying. I just wasn't my sharpest. Clark was. She won our little battle that I don't even think she knew we were fighting.
That day, my grandfather took the keys to the car that I had paid for and didn't return them until six months later when he saw I was walking to and from my job at a grocery store that I had gotten behind his back. He told me it was bad for his image for his grandson to be walking to work or to be working in a grocery store, to begin with.
Fuck, I needed a drink. I poured myself another healthy glass of red that we had been sipping on earlier and ordered takeout; my fridge was the only thing that really looked like a bachelor lived there—a few cases of beer, an old ketchup bottle, and some takeout from three nights ago that looked suspicious at best.
I hadn't taken on a collaborator besides Natalie. Ever. We worked so well together, even better because she wasn't even straight. There were no worries for emotions to get involved, and she really was my best friend next to Fletcher, the only other person who knew about my side gig. And now that I was stress drinking, I remembered why I kept my circle so small when it came to this. My heart skipped as my phone vibrated in my pocket, nearly causing me to spill my drink.
Fletcher: How did it go?
Me: Good I think, gave her paperwork to look over. We meet up again tomorrow after work to discuss things.
Fletcher: I told you that she was a good idea! It's a win-win, plus you get to hook up with the girl you liked in high school; how many guys can say that?
I reared back a bit, confusion falling over my features as I set my wine glass down.
Me: I absolutely did not have a crush on her. I was dating Liz at that time anyway. Clark was annoying as fuck, and a know-it-all.
Fletcher: Bro, you were obsessed with her. Remember when you would count how many times she stayed after class? Or check out the books she did at the library?
Me: I was examining the competition, you know how my grandfather was at that time. It had nothing to do with attraction.
Fletcher: Whatever, man, say what you want, but don't think I don't remember how you checked out Wuthering Heights from the library just because you saw her reading it one day.
Me: We were literally reading it in class Fletcher, which you would have known if you ever showed up.
Fletcher: Actually, smart ass, no, we read Dickens, Wuthering Heights was on a list of like 10 classics for extra credit.
Fuck. Fletcher might have been right about that one.
Me: Whatever, I'm going to the gym, I'll keep you updated.
Fletcher: Okay, go jerk off to Bronte or whatever you nerds do.
I flipped off the phone as I took another sip from my glass, draining it and rinsing it immediately, just for the fact that I needed to be doing something with my hands while my head raced.
Maybe I should go to the gym. I checked the time: 9 p.m. Fuck it. A workout would help lift this anxiety off of my chest.
It did not, in fact, lift my anxiety. Clark had texted me after the gym last night to confirm our meet up of 8 p.m. to see if she could move it to 9 p.m. Of course, I was a gentleman and said yes, even though I had been sitting on my sofa with my leg bouncing up and down. Because she'd seen my face, she'd seen my videos. She knew Natalie. Fuck, what if she uses this against me? But why? She would have just as much to lose if something like this got out. Right?
I shot a quick text to my sister Maria, checking in with her and bullshitting about her day just to calm myself down.
I jumped as soon as I heard a knock on the door; it was soft and hesitant, almost as if the person on the other side didn't actually want me to answer. I quickly looked at myself in the mirror: grey sweats and a white henley. Something informal, something that showed I was comfortable.
I was not, in fact, comfortable.
Regardless, I opened the door to see Clark looking cold in a black puffer jacket and her own pair of sweatpants. "C'mon in, Clark."
I left the door open while I went to sit once again at my dining room table, where I had spread out the paperwork along with some water bottles. I didn't want Clark to think I was an alcoholic.
"So, did you have a chance to make a decision?" I asked, sitting across from her and wiping my sweaty palms on my thighs. If she said no, Miss Know-all could take all of the information I had given her and completely ruin my life. Clark nodded, opening up her tote bag that looked like it also was her purse and pulled out the slightly wrinkled papers. All signed.
It felt like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders, and I took a deep breath for what felt like the first time in 24 hours.
"I do have some questions, though," she said, grabbing a water bottle and picking at the paper label as she looked around at my apartment.
"Yeah, of course, ask away." I picked up her paperwork and set it next to mine in an individually stamped folder with her initials and the date on it.
"I saw on a few videos that you and Natalie use other locations once in a while. How does that work?" Clark looked genuinely interested as she sipped her water, still holding one piece of the paperwork in her hand like a security blanket.
I nodded. "Yeah, sometimes we'd rent spaces depending on what the content was. I use lighting techniques to keep my bedroom unrecognizable, but sometimes we need more space."
Clark nodded and looked down at the paper in her hands for a moment before setting it on the table in front of me. I slide it towards them, my eyes still on her, very nervous ones as I lift it.
"Did I fill it out right?" She asked, sitting up straighter in her chair. The list was complete, with a few notes, which were expected.
"Have you ever done any bondage or restraint play?" I asked, noticing the scribbled "depends" next to the checkmark. Clark blushed crimson and immediately replied, "No, absolutely not." She shut her mouth again as if embarrassed.
I shrugged. "No problem, it's not like it's something we'll start with or anything. We can always circle back to it." Looking over the rest of the paperwork, I was happy to see it completed. "A boundary for me is no kissing. Too intimate." She ducked her head in agreement and then looked me dead in the eyes, something she had been avoiding the entire time, and said, "When do we start?"
I crooked a smile as I put away the completed paperwork and folded my hands in front of me. "So, I have only worked with one other partner. For privacy's sake, I prefer to keep my circle small. You and two others, one being Natalie, know what I moonlight doing." He took a deep breath. "However, I'll be honest: Natalie and I had slept together before she found out about the sex work. But we still did what Natalie and I called a rehearsal so we could get used to each other on camera. It was still filmed so we could get used to lighting, but it's more like a dress rehearsal, something to get us ready for the real thing."
Clark narrowed her eyes at me and asked, "This isn't just something to get women to sleep with you, and you dump them after your little rehearsal, is it?"
Her suspicions took me by surprise. "Jesus, Clark, if you think I'd do something like that, why did you sign all this paperwork?"
"Because, if you haven't already figured out, I'm desperate at this point," she retorted, arms waving in the air. I huffed a laugh. "Rent isn't even that much here. Why do you need three jobs anyway?"
Her brown eyes narrowed to slits as she regarded me, "Why do you need two jobs, Sebastian Quinn of Quinn Foundation?" My shoulders tensed as we both looked at each other in distrust.
"None of your business," I snapped, my anxiety peeking to another level. Crossing her arms, she leaned back in her chair and countered, "And neither is mine."
A stalemate. I could work with that. I lifted my hands in a sign of surrender, still staring at the woman with unmasked reservations.
"This isn't some ploy into your pants or any woman's." I quirked a brow, flexing my triceps just a bit and looking at her sultrily. "Do you really think I'd need some elaborate ruse to get a woman's attention, Clark?"
Georgia Clark scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Jesus Christ, Quinn, stop flexing. I'm not your bathroom mirror. This is a business deal, right? Fifty-fifty cut?"
I leaned back, my arms coming to rest over my chest, and I softened my face. "Correct, paid bi-weekly. You will also get a detailed expense report; I’ll give you the information to my accountant, who has been handling Natalie's and my business dealings for years. She's discreet and credible."
"So you didn't answer my question." Clark swallowed hard. "When do we start?"
I shrugged in what I hoped was a nonchalant fashion, the muscles in my back releasing the tension that had built up over the conversation. "It's Monday now, so how about Wednesday? I prefer night time if possible. Nine? Fewer distractions."
Clark nodded in agreement, "Good, I'm not a morning person."
"Do you have an idea for a mask? I assume you'd prefer to be anonymous." I asked, the tightness in my chest slowly releasing. "And a name?"
She winced. "Yes to the mask, and I'm still thinking of a name." Clark stood suddenly, causing me to follow suit. "So, Wednesday, 9 o'clock. I'll be here." Clark moved to open the front door but paused to look at me. "But what do I wear to this type of thing?"
I leaned back in my chair, hands folded behind my head. "Whatever you want, Clark, I'll be taking it off of you one way or another."
She blushed bright red and was out my door before I could say goodnight.