10. Stevie #2
“I don’t give a fuck. You’ll leave when I say you can leave.” He leans back in his chair. “Now, tell me what’s this about not being able to make rent.”
I exhale, annoyed that I spilled my guts. But he won’t relent until I tell him the whole story. “I quit my job at the diner after Joe attacked me, and I haven’t been able to find anything since. I’ve been charging everything on my credit card and it’s almost maxed out. I need money.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
I scowl. “Why would I tell you? What were you going to do about it?”
He tuts. “I could lend you money, princess.”
I stare at him. “What?”
“I could lend you your rent money, and then some.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Just say the word.”
Borrow money from Hunter? It doesn’t seem like a good idea. My gut tells me to refuse. “But I—I don’t know when I would be able to pay you back.”
His deep blue eyes bore into mine and he drops his voice. “You wouldn’t have to pay me back with money.”
My breath catches. “Then…with what?”
“Your hot body.”
I stop breathing. Is he joking?
Hunter places his forearms on the table and leans in toward me. “How about it, princess? Be my sex toy and I’ll pay you whatever you want. Name your price.”
I raise my chin. He’s joking. He’s gotta be. This is insane. I need to call his bluff. “I want $200 an hour,” I say, fully believing it’s a preposterous sum that he’ll never pay.
Hunter grins. “Done.”
I gape at him. “Are you serious? That’s so much money.”
He just laughs. “Sure, it is.”
“Hunter!” I’m so shocked I can’t think of any other retort.
“I’ll send you the contract tonight, princess.” He gets up and heaves his duffel bag onto his shoulder. “This is gonna be so much fun.” He winks at me and exits the coffee shop, leaving me gaping after him like a fish.
THE CONTRACT APPEARS in my inbox later that night.
Subject line: Open me.
I stare at the subject line for a long time, then shut my laptop and go into the living room. Becca is there, watching some trashy reality TV show. I wish I could tell her everything.
I curl up in the armchair and pretend to watch along with Becca, but my mind is elsewhere.
Curiosity and terror battle it out inside me.
I have no idea what to do. Of course, I desperately need money, and no matter how much plasma I donate, it won’t match the amount I could earn being Hunter’s, um “sex toy,” as he so eloquently put it.
Becca laughs at whatever is happening in the show, and I try to concentrate on the TV.
I need a distraction. The show features contestants of different ages, competing for prize money by engaging in all sorts of humiliating challenges.
They have to sing in public while wearing only their underwear, reveal a deeply embarrassing secret about themselves to a room full of unsuspecting strangers, and write a degrading word on their foreheads in black marker and walk around a small town full of God-fearing inhabitants, among other weird things the producers no doubt had a lot of depraved fun cooking up.
The secondhand embarrassment is overwhelming; I don’t know how Becca finds any of it entertaining.
She guffaws, almost choking on her popcorn, and I give her a look. “How can you watch this?” I ask.
“What? It’s funny!”
“Watching people get humiliated is funny?”
“Yeah. ‘Cause it’s not me.” She smirks.
I shake my head. “You’re nuts.”
Becca shrugs, not at all chastised, and presses rewind to watch the moment a contestant has to eat a plate full of insects in an upscale restaurant as the other diners look on in horror. She laughs so hard she falls off the couch.
As uncomfortable as the show is, I watch it until the end to see who wins.
If these people can go through all that humiliation for money, why can’t I have sex with a hot hockey player for money?
At least I’ll be enjoying myself. Presumably.
Since I’ve never had sex before, I don’t know what to expect, but Hunter already proved the other night that he knows what he’s doing. And that was only using his fingers.
“It’s so crazy what people will do for money,” I say when the show ends. Becca scrolls through the shows and movies on offer, looking for something else to watch. She shrugs at my comment. “I guess so.”
“What’s the most embarrassing thing you would do?” I ask her.
“Oh hell no. I would never do any of these things. That’s why it’s so fun to watch other people do them. Some people have no shame.”
“Right.” Her words sting. Am I shameless?
Am I insane for considering Hunter’s proposal?
One thing’s for sure, I feel like a loser for being unable to afford rent.
Maybe the shame of that will overpower the shame of sleeping with Hunter for money.
And if I’m truly being honest, the proposition is kind of…
thrilling. Sexy. Titillating. My dark side wants him to have total power over me.
I don’t want to dwell too much on that though, so I push the thought aside.
“Ooh,” Becca says, oblivious to my inner turmoil. “Let’s watch this true crime doc.”
I watch the doc with her for a few minutes, but the contract is the only thing on my mind. Finally, the curiosity is too much, and I return to my room, ready to open Hunter’s email. I hold my breath as I click on it. There’s no writing, just an attachment – a PDF. I quickly open it.
I, Stephanie Olivia Jones, hereby enter this contract with Hunter Christopher Cruise willingly and with full consent, to be his official sex toy, to be used however he sees fit.
I will make myself available to him at any and all hours of the day and night.
I will do whatever he says without argument. My body is his.
Both parties agree to a rate of $200/hour.
This contract is null and void only when Hunter Cruise says so.
Stipulations:
Be on birth control.
Let Hunter fuck you raw.
Obey his every command*.
Let him know your whereabouts at all times.
Don’t tell anyone about this agreement.
*Disobedience will be met with severe punishment.
Hunter has already digitally signed the contract.
I stare at the line where my signature should go.
My heart races. I slam my laptop shut, freaking out.
The shame I feel is right at the surface, easy to identify, but it’s the underlying feeling of excitement that has sent me into a tailspin. I shouldn’t be excited. This is wrong.
I get up and pace around my room, wringing the sleeves of my sweatshirt in my hands. My phone pings with a text message notification.
Hunter
Sign the contract, princess.
I drop my phone as if it’s hot.
Can Hunter see me? No, it’s got to be a coincidence.
I don’t even have my blinds open. Feeling paranoid, I peer through the blinds, but there’s nobody outside.
I need to calm down. As if the universe is mocking me, my phone rings and I nearly jump out of my skin.
But when I pick it up off the ground, it’s not Hunter’s name flashing on my screen, it’s my mom calling me.
Feeling utterly relieved, I pick up. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hello, sweetie. How are you?”
“Good. How are you? Sorry I haven’t called in a few days.”
“It’s okay,” she says. “I know how busy school and work can get. I just wanted to check in and make sure everything is alright.”
Oh, if she only knew. The thought of her ever finding out what her baby girl is up to these days is enough to make me sweat. I put her on speaker and take off my sweatshirt, fanning my face with my hand.
“Yeah, everything is just fine, Mom,” I lie through my teeth. “Nothing to worry about.”
“That’s good to hear, honey. I hope you’re not overwhelmed. I know work and school together can be a lot on a person.” She sounds so sweet and concerned, I want the floor to open up and swallow me into hell.
“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” My entire body is tense from all the lies coming out of my mouth. My skin feels like it’s going to crack.
“I know, honey, but if you ever need anything, you know you can ask me, right?”
Ha! As if. My mom is not rich. I couldn’t ask her for more than a couple hundred dollars a month, at most. Of course, if she knew my rent was on the line, she would figure out how to send me more. But that wouldn’t be sustainable. Rent is due every month; not just a few times a year.
“Mom, I’m fine, really. You don’t have to worry about me. I have everything under control.” I open my laptop, decision made, and quickly sign the contract, sending it back to Hunter before I can change my mind. I close my laptop and sit on the edge of my bed.
“Okay, honey, just making sure. I love you.”
“Love you too.” I hang up and notice another text message has just come in.
Hunter
Good girl