Crossing the Lines

by S. J. Hooks

  “Eyes to me,” the man directs.

  I force myself to meet his gaze.

  “You’re a beautiful girl,” he says, looking me up and down.

  I breathe a sigh of relief. There was a good chance he’d want his money back if he didn’t find me attractive and I can’t deny that it feels good hearing him tell me that. “Thank you,” I whisper. I flinch slightly when he reaches out and runs his large hand up my arm and then across my chest, fondling my breasts. My nipples have hardened in the cold and he tugs on both of them, making me gasp.

  “C’mere,” he says, pulling me closer.

  I tense up. We’re face-to-face and he’s looking me over with unmistakable desire. I imagine I must appear to him as a deer caught in the headlights with my wide-eyed frightened look. He cradles my jaw and runs his thumb across my mouth, smearing my lipstick.

  “None of that shit,” he whispers. “You don’t need it.”

  He leans in and I close my eyes, thinking he’ll kiss me. Instead, I feel his lips against my cheek as they slide across it and reach my ear. “Now, suck me off like a good girl.”

  His words hit my system with the force of a sledgehammer, shocking the hell out of me. No one has ever talked to me like that before. My heart hammers in my chest as I watch him move his seat back. He flicks his tie over his shoulder, getting it out of the way, his movements slow and measured, as though this is business as usual for him. He turns his head to look at me, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

  As I lean forward, he tilts his head back against the headrest and lowers his arms to rest next to him, exposing his lap. All I have to do is unzip him and get it done, and the money’s mine.

  Do it. Do it!

  My fingers are stiff and uncooperative as I try to open his pants, so focused on the task I don’t notice he’s moved his hand until it’s stroking my hair down the length of my back. I freeze up, trembling underneath his touch.

  “Hey.” He touches me underneath my chin, making me look up at him as he examines my face closely. After a few seconds his lips tighten and he shakes his head. “We’re not doing this.”

  His words hurt just as badly as those from the club manager and I can’t hold back the tears I’ve been repressing all night. He stares at me, eyes wider than before.

  “Why are you doing this?” he asks, plucking my top up off the floor of the car and handing it to me. “You aren’t just new at this. You’ve never done this before, have you?”

  “I’m hungry,” I whimper, my mental filter completely obliterated. “I’m so hungry.”

  “Fuck.” He runs his hand through his hair. “Look, put your clothes back on, and I’ll get you something to eat.”

  I suck in a breath, nearly choking on a sob. I’m so hungry, the promise of something to eat makes my stomach twist in pain. “Y-you will?”

  He nods, looking straight ahead. “Get dressed.”

  I pull my top and my coat back on, and the moment my seatbelt is fastened he puts the car in reverse, quickly maneuvering us out of the abandoned area and onto a busy street. He pulls into the drive-through of the first fast-food place we come to and turns to me.

  “What would you like?”

  I lick my lips. “A-anything’s fine. A cheeseburger?”

  He orders a combo meal with fries and a milkshake, as well as a cup of coffee and an apple turnover in a separate bag. Paying at the window, he hands me the shake and looks inside the larger bag for a second, before thrusting it back into the hands of the worker.

  “I ordered a cheeseburger. This is plain. Fix it.” His words are clipped, impatient.

  “It’s really okay,” I whisper.

  He ignores me, focusing on the clerk who quickly replaces the burger, apologizing. Handing me the bag, he drives to the farthest end of the parking lot and turns off the engine. His behavior is intimidating, but all I can focus on right now is the gratitude I feel toward him.

  “Thank you.” I clutch the brown paper bag to resist the urge to tear into it immediately.

  He glances at me briefly, nodding. “Go ahead,” he says. “But don’t make a mess.”

  “I won’t.”

  I force myself to eat slowly, knowing I’ll make myself sick if I don’t. It’s been days since I’ve had a full meal. The milkshake tastes like heaven, fat and creamy, and I savor every mouthful. The man turns on the radio and sips his coffee. After a few minutes of just sitting there watching me eat, he holds out the turnover.

  “You want this afterward?”

  “No thanks, I’m almost full already.”

  He shrugs and takes a bite of it but makes a face and stuffs it back into the bag.

  “Not good?” I ask.

  “Awful. I hate fast food. It didn’t even taste like apple.”

  “They probably overcooked it.” I’m nervous, so I keep talking. “That’s the challenge when it comes to pie: the balance between not overcooking the apples and not undercooking the crust. Finding that perfect balance is key.”

  He turns and looks at me, his eyebrows raised.

  “Sorry. I’ll … be quiet.”

  I finish my meal in silence, aware that he’s still staring at me.

  “Do you feel better?” he asks after I’ve wiped my mouth, inclining his head toward the paper bag.

  “Yes, thank you.” I force myself to look at him, knowing I can’t sit here and stall forever. I’m acutely aware of the money in my bag—money I haven’t earned yet. Drawing a deep breath, I send him what I hope looks like a flirtatious smile.

  “Should we go back to that warehouse area now?” I ask. I put my hand on his thigh, feeling his muscles twitch underneath my touch as I lean closer to him. He looks me over, but then he shakes his head.

  “No. We aren’t doing that.”

  Nausea threatens to make me lose the meal he just bought me. I have to find a way to keep that money he gave me. “Please? I want to, I promise. I’ll, uh, be with you.”

  He sighs, shaking his head. “Look. It’s obvious to me now you’re not a sex worker. Why did you go with me?”

  “I needed the money. I need the money. Please. I’ll do anything you ask.”

  That gets his attention, his eyes flaring with emotion. But he says nothing, does nothing. Biting the inside of my cheek to keep from crying, I grab the money from my bag. My hand is shaking as I hold it out to him. “Here.”

  He cocks his head to the side and stares at me, ignoring the bills in my hand. Then he turns and faces forward. “Keep it.”

  The sense of relief that floods my system is staggering in its intensity. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  “I’ll drive you home,” he says, starting the car. “Where to?”

  “R-really?”

  “You thought I’d just dump you here in the parking lot?” His scolding makes my face heat up. “I’m not a complete monster.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve never—”

  “I know. Believe me, I know.”

  I tell him my neighborhood and notice his slight frown. Obviously, he knows it’s in a bad part of town, but he doesn’t comment. We don’t talk on the way there until I tell him to pull over at the twenty-four-hour market two blocks from my building.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I say, undoing my seatbelt.

  “Wait.”

  Shit. Does he want the money back after all? Cautiously, I turn to him.

  “Did you mean what you said before, that you wanted to be with me, as you put it?”

  I nod my head. I wanted to earn those three hundred dollars, at least.

  He purses his lips, nodding to himself. “How’d you like to earn some more money?”

  “Doing what?”

  “You said you’d do anything I ask,” he reminds me.

  I did say that, but it was a desperate plea at the time. Now I’m not so sure. “You won’t hurt me, will you?”

  “No,” he says, his voice softer now. “I won’t hurt you. Whatever I do to you, I can promise it won’t hurt.”r />
  I feel pulled in two different directions. Whatever he does to me he promises won’t hurt, but that doesn’t mean I’ll like it. He obviously has a sexual motive. After all, he picked me up tonight believing I was soliciting. Could I have sex with this man, this stranger? I’m not sure. Then again …

  “H-how much money are we talking about?” I hear myself ask.

  “Five hundred dollars for tomorrow night.”

  Holy shit.

  He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a pen and a card, and quickly scribbles something down before holding it out to me.

  “Be at this address tomorrow night at eight.”

  “This is your place?”

  He nods.

  Can I trust him? He could’ve hurt me tonight, but he didn’t. The fact that he saw how upset I was and stopped me from going through with it, bought me food, and let me keep the money—at the very least it means he has a conscience.

  “Okay,” I whisper. “I’ll be there.”

  “Good girl.”

  What a weird thing to say. “Um, good night.”

  I climb out of the car without looking back and rush into the market, feeling safer underneath the familiar fluorescent lights, and knowing that I can finally pay for everything I throw into my cart brings a genuine smile to my face for the first time in weeks.

  Chapter Three

  “Mommy, you came back,” Luke mumbles as I gently lift him off the couch.

  “Of course I did, honey,” I whisper, cradling him in my arms. He smiles and falls asleep again almost immediately, his head on my shoulder.

  “How’d it go?” I ask, turning to Mrs. Watt.

  “Just fine. He doesn’t like my cat much, though.”

  I nod, glancing at it. It’s watching me with narrowed eyes and when I look at it, it hisses for no apparent reason. Demon spawn.

  “Listen, I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you possibly watch him again tomorrow night? I have someplace I need to be at 8 o’clock.”

  Mrs. Watt watches me closely. “You get a job?”

  “Yeah.” It’s not technically a lie. I’ll be getting paid for whatever I have to do.

  “All right.”

  “Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver.”

  Mrs. Watt doesn’t pry, thankfully. I’m not sure what I’d tell her if she decided to ask for more details.

  Luke is getting heavy in my arms and I leave quickly, carrying both him and the bags from the market. After I’ve tucked him in, I put the groceries away and take a much-needed shower. Under the lukewarm spray, I start to cry. I’m both relieved to have a bit of money and food, but at the same time ashamed of what I almost did to get it. I never thought I’d find myself in such dire straits. Thankfully, Luke can’t hear me and my tears are washed down the drain without anyone the wiser.

  After I’ve calmed down, I dry off and settle on the couch. Tonight was scary, but I don’t regret my decision to get into the strange man’s car. I remind myself that I can feed my son and that’s all that matters. Besides, it could’ve been a lot worse. The man wasn’t violent or crazy, he fed me, and he even drove me home. If I can earn the five hundred dollars from him tomorrow, I can pay at least part of what I owe the landlord. That’s a big “if,” though. He barely touched me tonight and I almost jumped out of my skin. Tomorrow, I’m sure I won’t get the money he offered if I can’t do what he wants.

  Even if I somehow can go through with it, I know it won’t be enough. I need a steady income. My parents aren’t going to help and neither will Patrick’s aunt, who never liked me much in the first place. After we told her I was pregnant, she blamed me—like I had done it on purpose or something. But we were being careful, so it came as a complete shock to both of us. Patrick mentioned going to a clinic, but I wouldn’t hear of it and he came around after a little while. Maybe he felt guilty. He was the one who wanted to have sex, and he was pretty relentless about it until I finally gave in. Two months later, I was pregnant.

  There’s no one to help me—except the man in the car. Christ, I don’t even know his name.

  Climbing off the couch, I check on Luke, who’s fast asleep, and then look through my coat, locating the card the man handed me. All it says is his address in Medina, a rich suburb of Seattle. I know the neighborhood by reputation only. It’s really swanky and my suspicion that he’s loaded was apparently spot on. He probably works in an office in the city and spends his nights and weekends in suburban bliss. I wonder if he’s married. I didn’t notice a wedding ring, but those come off easily. Putting the card back in my pocket, I push all thoughts of him from my mind. No need to deal with the reality of the situation until I have to.

  The rest of the night I spend watching blurry TV, too tired to commit to putting a DVD in the ancient player no one wants to buy. Believe me, I’ve tried.

  The next morning, I wake up still on the couch. My back is sore, but that’s quickly forgotten when I remember what I’m about to do: cook my son a big breakfast for the first time in months. Our kitchen is small and old, but I keep it tidy and clean, so it’s not so bad. I work fast, putting together pancakes, bacon, and fruit. I’m making myself a cup of instant coffee when Luke shuffles in, rubbing his eyes.

  “Morning, sweetheart. You hungry?”

  “You made pancakes and chocolate milk?” Luke is now wide awake, staring at the small feast on the table. The joy on his face makes me so happy. “Is it my birthday, Mommy?”

  I laugh, kneeling down to hug him. “No, silly. You know your birthday isn’t for another couple of months. Come and eat.”

  And he does, probably way too much, but I don’t have the heart to cut him off. Who knows when we’ll be able to splurge like this again? But if I can go through with it tonight, do whatever he tells me to, the man in the suit might consider seeing me again, which means more money for me and Luke. It’s a means to an end until I can find a real job, at least.

  It’s not the best plan in the world, but at this point it’s all I’ve got. Looking at my son’s smile as he reaches for another piece of bacon, I know that no matter what I’ll have to do tonight, it’ll be worth it.

  Chapter Four

  Getting to Medina is a real hassle. I dropped Luke off at Mrs. Watt’s in plenty of time, but he was once again scared of me leaving and it took a bit of convincing to get him inside her apartment. Now I’m running for the bus stop. I’ll have to transfer at the station downtown and hope I make it. I have a feeling the man I’m about to see doesn’t care for tardiness.

  Half an hour later, I’m frazzled and out of breath, but at least I’m standing in front of the right bus, which is headed out of the city in just a few minutes. I shuffle in and tell the driver where I’m headed. He looks me up and down.

  I’m grateful I decided not to dress as revealing as I had yesterday. Tonight, I’m simply wearing my nicest jeans with a white top underneath a light jacket. I pay the driver, then head to the back, not interested in making conversation. After many stops in the city, it’s a short trip across the Evergreen Point toll bridge and soon the driver calls out my stop. I step off the bus and it’s like I’ve entered a new world. Medina is located across Lake Washington—a haven for wealthy people, filled with golf courses, country clubs, and million-dollar homes. Rows of lakefront property stretch down along the coast as far as the eye can see, each house grander than the next. Taking a deep breath, I start walking, trying to imagine what it must be like to live here. The small town where I grew up didn’t have neighborhoods like this one.

  It scares me, what I’m about to do. The guy was really nice last night, all things considered, but tonight I’ll have to earn that five hundred dollars. I look up, realizing that daylight is fading, and check my watch.

  Fuck, I’m late!

  I take off running, probably looking like a madwoman, but I don’t care. I can’t afford to lose this job—or whatever the hell I should call it. Mindful of the addresses on the houses and properties I pass, I reach my destination and
turn onto a smaller road leading down toward the lake. The house I arrive at looks big enough for three families. Located right on the edge of the lake, its three stories overlook the water and are surrounded by tall trees.

  I don’t stop to admire it, instead hurrying to the front door and ringing the bell. Moments later, the man from last night opens it. He’s in a suit again this evening, but he’s loosened his shirt collar and taken off his tie and jacket. The sleeves of his white shirt are rolled up, revealing a large, very expensive-looking watch on his left wrist and lean, muscular forearms. In the fading light, most of his face is in shadow, but I can tell that he’s displeased. His frown deepens as he looks me over. I’m panting for breath, flushed and hunched over, which is definitely not an attractive look on anyone.

  “I’m sorry … I’m late,” I manage.

  “How did you get here?”

  “I, uh, I took the bus and then I ran the rest of the way.”

  “I can see that,” he says, pursing his lips. “Why not get a cab?”

  Is he joking? “I-I couldn’t afford one.”

  He doesn’t respond and doesn’t move, blocking the entrance with his tall frame, his jaw ticking.

  “Should I leave?” I finally ask, my stomach churning at the thought that he might have changed his mind.

  He inhales deeply through his nose and lets it out again, his eyes locking with mine for a second before I look down, embarrassed by my tardiness. “No, come on in.” He steps aside and holds the door open for me as I enter.

  “Wow,” I exclaim, turning in a circle to take in the huge hall and the sweeping staircase. The man is still watching me, so I try to dial down my gawking at the fancy surroundings and instead look down at the polished hardwood floor, hoping he’ll say something. I feel like shrinking away when he moves to stand in front of me, placing his index finger underneath my chin.

  “Tell me your name,” he orders, tilting my face upward. For a second, I consider giving him a false one, but then I remember how he feels about liars.