Chapter 5
Kaylee
“Dawson Realty, this is Gazelle.” Her smooth, professional voice only made my gut clench harder. She had bad news for me. I just knew it as sure as I knew I needed to go for a bikini wax this week.
“Hey, Gazelle.” My nervousness didn’t show up in my voice.
“I just wanted to touch base about the house. Tell me I’m the only one with an offer in.
” If it was just me, then I had time to get the rest of the down payment together, enough to put the total cost of the house down in the range the bank was willing to loan.
The problem was that I’d made more money this year than last. And the banks didn’t care much what I made this year. They only cared what was on my tax returns. And I hadn’t made nearly as much the last two years as this one.
Damn taxes. They were a beast. Always.
Gazelle sighed. Damn it. My fears were well founded. She was about to give me bad news.
“I’m sorry, Kaylee. Mr. Reed-Collins hasn’t retracted his offer.”
My blood boiled. How dare he? He could’ve gotten any other home. And shit, he was going to be working an hour away. Why not get a home closer to his new job? This house wasn’t for him.
It was for me.
Maybe if I went to my grandfather, I could get him to put pressure on Porter or pay for the house in full. Then I could pay him back within a year. He was loaded. He’d be able to write a check, no problem.
Gazelle was going on in my ear about how sorry she was, but I barely heard her. “It’s not your fault,” I muttered.
There was no way I’d ask my grandfather for money. It was one thing to accept gifts from strangers for my job. But accepting money from him, for not being able to pay my own way… not an option.
I’d worked hard all my life. And in one fell swoop, Porter was going to ruin what I’d dreamed about the whole time.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t looked at other houses. None of them had spoken to me the way the big white house had. Something had clicked when I’d walked into that house.
Asking my grandfather was tempting, but it just wasn’t how our relationship worked. He’d been heartbroken when he learned of my existence. He’d tried to make things up to me by buying me everything under the sun. But all I’d wanted was a relationship with him.
At that time, I was so jaded by the world, I couldn’t have accepted even the smallest gift. It took a long time before I did.
I wasn’t to the point of borrowing for a house, though. Not yet. Maybe in another decade.
I sighed. “Gazelle.” She stopped yammering on her apologies. “How much was Porter’s bid?”
Her sigh mimicked mine. “I’m sorry, Kaylee. I can’t tell you that.”
Of course not.
“All I can say is that it was more than yours.”
Damn it! I was being totally ripped off, but what could I do about it? I’d be damned if a pompous asshole like Porter was going to take the house away from me. I wasn’t about to fold.
I’d find a way to offer as much as possible to go along with what the bank would lend me so I could outbid him.
“Keep stalling for me, Gazelle. I’m going to figure out how to come up with more money, okay?”
“You got it, friend. I hope you do it, but I’m probably going to have to move forward on Monday.”
“Okay. Thanks, Gazelle. I owe you one.”
I tapped the red circle to hang up and sighed. Time to up the ante.
Moving to my computer, I set up a few things. First, I decided to be honest. I posted in my chat room that I needed to raise some funds for a down payment on a house and that I’d be doing some fun stuff this weekend.
I set up an auction so the subscribers could bid on what I’d wear on my next live show, and then what I’d do on it.
After that, I set up an auction for the top three bidders who would each get a private show. Doing multiple shows per day would be draining, but if it did the trick, I wasn’t going to complain.
Tonight, I did a regular show, and reminded people to check the chat for the auctions. It went okay, but I definitely needed more. It was a good start.
Saturday morning, I decided to do another live show, so before I went to bed, I emailed my followers to let them know I’d be on again. By the time I showered and was ready to roll, I had a good number of followers online.
I gave them everything I had. Real orgasms. I even squirted, which was extremely difficult for me to make myself do.
Everything I could think of from butt plugs to my suction-cup dildo.
On and on until I was exhausted and had to stop.
By the time I turned off the cameras, it had turned into my longest live yet.
As tired as I was, I couldn’t resist a nap. Before I closed my eyes, I checked my account balance. When the total popped up on the screen, I gasped.
I’d more than doubled what was in there, and that included last night plus a couple of extras I’d done during the week. It wasn’t enough, but it put me so much closer to my goal.
My heart pounded with anticipation as I settled down and tried to relax. I was really going to do this.
I ended up sleeping until well after dark. I got online and chatted with a few regular subscribers and checked on the auctions while I ate a sandwich, and then went back to sleep.
Orgasms really took it out of me.
The doorbell pulled me from a deep sleep. I’d woken up again in the night and did a little work, now I just wanted to sleep in.
“Kaylee, open up! It’s Wayne.” He pounded on the door this time. “My hands are full.”
Oh, shit. I’d totally forgotten he was coming. “Hang on!” I yelled. Launching from bed, I grabbed my terrycloth bathrobe and tied it on as I unbolted the door.
Wayne Parsons stood at the top of the rickety stairs outside my apartment, looking irritated, one eyebrow arched, and his arms crossed.
He’d put down the bags of groceries, which was about three times as much as I would’ve been able to carry up. “You forgot again.”
With an apologetic glance, I stepped outside and grabbed a handful of the reusable shopping bags surrounding my friend and personal chef. “No, I…”
He sniffed and I stopped trying to defend myself.
As I turned to carry in a small portion of the groceries he’d hefted up the long staircase, I sighed. “I’m sorry! I fell asleep early last night, and it slipped my mind.”
“I forgive you,” he called through the doorway. I looked back to see him sliding his arms through all the bag handles again.
His arms bulged as he lifted. Nice. Wayne was some lovely eye candy, which explained why he’d been so hard to hire. He stayed booked. I’d had to pay extra for weekend service.
It wasn’t just his good looks that kept him busy. His food was damn amazing.
As he unpacked a bunch of meals he’d prepared at home and stuck them in the freezer, I turned on the coffee maker and leaned against the counter to wait for it to brew. “Do you think you get better tips because you’re handsome?” I asked.
Wayne paused with a foil tray in his hand. He’d written Low Carb Stir Fry on the top. He would cook big meals at home then divvy them up for his single clients who didn’t need large meals. Like me.
Laughing, he shook his head as he continued toward my freezer with the prepared food.
All I had to do was pop it in the oven. He even wrote the reheating instructions on the top of the foil.
“I’d like to think it’s because of my skill.
” He shut the freezer door and shrugged.
“But it’s probably a lot like being a good-looking bartender.
The drinks may be great, but the eye candy is a pretty good bonus. ”
“Can I ask something a little more personal?” I bit my lip, unsure if I should be asking him. But he’d been chatting with me every time he came, and we’d learned a lot about each other. If anyone would be tactfully honest with me, Wayne would.
He nodded as he pulled out food to make my breakfast. He always brought a bunch of meals with him but cooked one fresh when he came, twice a week. “Sure.”
“Do you consider what I do a job?” Well, that was a more vulnerable question than I’d expected it to be. If he answered harshly, it would hurt. Even though I didn’t care what other people thought, not really, sometimes I got a little sensitive.
He hummed low in his throat. “Do you work at it every day?”
I nodded.
Grabbing one of my knives, he began to chop an onion. “Are you fulfilling a need, and is someone paying for the service of that need?”
I snorted as he arched an eyebrow at me. “Pun intended?”
He shook his head and laughed, holding the knife up while he wasn’t focusing on the cutting. “Oh, man. No, totally innocent on that one.”
Suppressing my giggles, I adjusted my robe and tightened it. As hot as Wayne was, he and I didn’t vibe that way. He was my friend, sure. But I wasn’t trying to flash him or use my feminine wiles to get him interested.
“If their needs are met and they are—” He cleared his throat. “—satisfied, then that’s the definition of a job. Is that what you do?”
“I guess, yeah,” I said, still uncertain.
“Then what you do is a job. It gives someone what they need when they need it. You’re no different than a server or chef.” He waggled his eyebrows in comical suggestion. “A sexy chef.”
I sighed in relief. His opinion had meant more to me than I’d realized. “Thanks, Wayne. You’ve got a nice way of phrasing things.” I stood and pursed my lips at him, dropping my voice. “It’s nice to know you’re more than a pretty face.”
He chortled as he went back to chopping.
“Let yourself out,” I said as I walked toward my bureau. “I’ve got to work all day, so I’m going to take a long bath.”
“Have fun,” he called as I locked myself in my large bathroom-closet combo.
I had a washer and dryer in there, too. It had been a modification I’d made to the studio apartment, taking up a good fourth of the floor space for my big bath-closet.
But it brought me joy, so I didn’t mind that I’d spent the money for the owners of the building to take advantage of later.
They’d put up with my unique lifestyle without much complaint, so it was worth it.
After a long bath and pampering session, I walked out and ate the breakfast Wayne had left. He’d cleaned up after himself and left a note saying he’d see me later in the week. I made a note to text him any meals that sounded good.
The rest of my day was spent paying the auction winners back for their money. I wore the outfit that had won the poll I’d done, then did three separate live sessions one-on-one, using the client’s suggestions to pleasure myself.
And when I’d finished, I was over halfway to my goal. One more weekend like this, and I’d have more than enough to outbid Porter. I just had to hope the owner of the house didn’t accept his bid before that.