Five Card Studs

by Madison Faye

  My head swam. My pulse raced. My body ignited for them.

  And then I felt the third man, and that’s when the cry broke from my lips.

  His hands slid right over my hip, moving firmly down between my legs.

  I was dripping wet for him.

  I moaned loudly again, my lips clasping around the thumb again and sucking as I felt this third man’s fingers slide wetly over my clit. He teased me, letting his finger just brush over the eager nub as he moved to press against me.

  I whimpered.

  He’d lost his shirt and the rest of it, and I moaned as I felt the thick, pulsing heat of his cock hot against my thigh. The man behind me growled into my ear again as his hand dropped between us. I felt him tug at the buckle of his belt, and my body shivered as I heard his impeccably tailored suit-pants drop to the floor. He pressed against me again, and this time, I cried out as I felt his cock throbbing hard against the cleft of my ass.

  The thumb pulled from my lips, and I whimpered with a soft pout.

  The man in front of me chuckled darkly. “Oh, pet, I am far from done with this mouth.” I heard him removing his belt as well, his pants coming undone.

  “On your knees,” the man behind me whispered heavily in my ear.

  I shivered, the moan catching in my throat as my heart thumped widely and the desire teased between my legs.

  I knelt for them. I did as I was told.

  Of course I did. After all, I belonged to them. These hard, dominant, bad men owned me — officially. Bought and paid for.

  But then, that’s not the only reason I did as they said. I did so, because I was a good girl.

  I was their good girl.

  I moaned as I felt them move closer around me, hands cupping my jaw, fingers tangling in my hair. A finger traced over my cheek.

  And it didn’t matter that everything was caving in. It didn’t matter in that moment that far badder men than these three were after us with every intent of killing all four of us. It didn’t matter that we’d broken the rules. It didn’t matter that we’d moved far past whatever this had started as.

  It didn’t matter that I wasn’t the same girl I’d been before.

  Before them.

  “Open your mouth, beautiful,” one of them whispered darkly.

  My lips parted.

  My heart pounded in my chest.

  My pussy throbbed with need for them.

  “Now be a good girl, and swallow the whole thing.”

  1

  Mia

  I sighed heavily as I hit the “send” button — my thirty-fifth resume of the day going out into the ether.

  I scowled as I clicked back to my inbox. No new emails. Of course. I hit refresh twice, just to make sure, but still nothing. Just the weekly “how’s being an adult” email from my mom, the same notice from my cell phone carrier that I was past due, and the same collections agency that now owned my student loans reminding me that I was their slave for life.

  Good times.

  I reached for the bottle of cheap white wine and poured a fresh splash into my glass — a coffee mug, actually. I wrinkled my nose as I took a swallow, the cheap taste of sugar overpowering anything really “wine”-tasting.

  I hit refresh on my email again.

  Nothing.

  How was “being an adult” going? Well, I had no job and no social life, and no love life since Mike had decided to put his dick in half the female population of his office two months ago. I had a roof over my head — an apartment I shared with my best friend Andrea, but I was behind three months’ rent on my half. Forget about the utilities.

  I had four maxed out credit cards, student debts that rivaled the worth of a third world country, and a completely useless degree in art history that pretty much guaranteed my unemployment.

  In short, life was currently kicking me in the teeth.

  I sighed, pushing my hair back from my face and pouting.

  Outside my bedroom, the apartment unlocked with a click, slamming open against the coat rack. I swiveled to see Andrea maneuvering her way in with two armfuls of shopping bags.

  My brow wrinkled.

  This had been slowly going on for a month or so now. Andrea hadn’t quite gotten to the dire straits I was in, but it’s not like she was made of money either. But then that started to change.

  It started with small things — her picking up the tab all too often at happy hour, or when ordering delivery. Then it was new clothes — frequently. But then it moved to her covering my half of the rent when I was short — for months, and without any sort of pressure to pay her back.

  I’d caught her getting ready to go out the other night with a brand-new Chanel clutch, Louboutin’s, and this insanely gorgeous new club dress. I’d almost said something, when she’d gotten a phone call, smiled at me, and strolled out.

  And now here she was with shopping bags from just about every high-end designer in New York.

  My inbox dinged, sending my heart into my throat as I whirled back.

  My mouth pursed into a scowl.

  Apparently, Sephora was having a sale I might be interested in.

  That did it.

  I slammed the laptop shut and stepped from my room.

  “Need a hand?”

  Andrea’s attention jerked up from trying to pull her new, heeled Burberry boots off, her arms still laden with the shopping bags.

  “Oh! Uh, hi!” She smiled, and it wasn’t like she had anything to be guilty about with going on a shopping spree, but I could still see it there in her eyes.

  I guess my tone didn’t help.

  “I thought you were out?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. The secretary job called; position filled.”

  She made a face. “Sorry, hon.”

  “It’s fine, I just— I mean…” I trailed off and looked at my feet. “Look, I know I owe you some serious money, and I really will pay you back. But if you need to get someone else in here who can actually afford this place, just let me—”

  “Oh my God, stop,” Andrea rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at me. “It’s fine, really. I know you’ll pay me back when you can.” She grinned. “With thirty percent interest, of course.”

  “Oh, right, of course.”

  She smiled. “Honestly, who else out there do you think would put up with living with me?”

  “You are sort of a slob.”

  “Bitch.”

  I grinned back at her, before my eyes dropped to her shopping bags.

  Her face went red. “Oh, this is just…I mean, I had some returns to make, so I—”

  “Andrea.”

  Her mouth snapped shut, her lips twisting awkwardly.

  “C’mon, you can tell me.”

  “Tell you what?”

  I gave my old friend a look. “Dude, c’mon. Either you won the lottery or you’re selling drugs or something.”

  She smiled, avoiding my eyes. “It’s nothing like that. It’s…”

  She trailed off and shrugged.

  “Yes?”

  Andrea sighed. “Look, there’s this guy, okay?” She immediately shook her head, seeing the look on my face. “It’s nothing like that, he just…” She shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

  “I’m listening?”

  Her eyes darted to mine, blinking quickly. “You don’t want to listen to this.”

  My brow furrowed.

  Andrea looked scared. Well, no, not scared, just, nervously excited I guess. And she also looked like she was trying to hide that excitement.

  “C’mon Andrea, it’s me.”

  “I know,” she said quickly. “Which is why I’m asking you to drop it, okay? Look it’s really nothing. Just a guy I met.”

  I rolled my eyes, annoyed at her little game of secrets. “Fine, whatever.”

  Andrea looked down and I sighed. “Okay, okay, it’s fine. Really. Have your little secrets.”

  She grinned. “Delivery sushi for dinner to make it up to you? I’m buying.”r />
  I eyed the Prada and Hermès shopping bags still lying on the floor by the door.

  “Damn right you are.”

  2

  Mia

  The front door to the building shut with a dull click behind me, and I groaned as I slumped against the wall of mailboxes.

  My muscles ached, my feet hurt. I was sweaty. My thumb smarted where I’d burned it on the heat lamp.

  I silently shook my head. Five hours. I’d lasted five damn hours at the job.

  And no, none of the eighty-seven places I’d sent my resume had suddenly offered me a job. But you know who had? Jumpin’ Joe’s Diner, in Hell’s Kitchen.

  Mindy, a friend of a friend, worked there, and had gotten me an interview two days after my little melt down about Andrea’s shopping spree. The next day — tonight, I was on the floor for my first shift, ready to sweat to make some money.

  And I’d made it five hours. Not even a whole shift.

  In fairness, it wasn’t like it was my fault. I tried, and I knuckled down and worked for those five hours. I’d never had a silver spoon in my mouth, and I did understand the importance of hard work, even at an unglamorous job like diner waitressing. That I could take.

  What I couldn’t take was the manager — Chester. Grossly inappropriate and distasteful jokes had turned to even creepier comments. Those had led to lingering hands on my shoulders — to “work out how tense I was” — and a hip that brushed my ass about three times too many to be an accident.

  And all of that, I could take, ‘cause I needed the job.

  At the five hour mark though, he’d called me into his office. Chester had told me with a deep sigh that I was a great worker, but he just didn’t have space on the schedule for me — that is, unless maybe I could do something for him.

  That’s about the time he’d slid back from his desk and unzipped his pants.

  That’s about the time I turn on my heel and left.

  And now here I was, back at square one.

  Eventually, I could hear people coming down the main staircase of the apartment building, so I un-slumped myself from the wall and made a passing effort of a smile at them as I headed up the stairs to our apartment.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

  Andrea’s jaw dropped before she marched over and threw her arms around me. “God I am so sorry. That’s awful!”

  “It’s fine,” I mumbled, dropping my bag to the floor.

  “No it’s not! That is so not okay. We should call the police or something and—”

  “Hey Andrea?”

  She stopped, her lips pursing.

  “Can you just pour me a very large glass of something?

  “That I can.”

  Wine in hand, I slumped next to my roommate on the couch, Party of Five re-runs playing quietly on the TV.

  “Look, I’m going to pay you back, I swear, I just—”

  “Mia, stop. Really, it’s okay.”

  “It’s not!” I snapped, scowling at the floor before I sighed. “It’s not, Andrea. I need to get a job, even if you never do let me pay you back.”

  She was quiet a minute, and when I looked over, I saw her staring at an imaginary spot on the floor chewing her lip.

  “What?”

  “I need to tell you something.”

  I arched my brow.

  “So, there is a guy.”

  “Well, that much you told me—”

  “He’s not my boyfriend.” She frowned. “Well, he is, but it’s nothing like that.”

  My brow furrowed. “Well, what’s it like?”

  She bit her lip.

  “Andrea? What’s it like—”

  “Transactional.”

  I froze. “What?”

  “Hang on, it’s not what it sounds like.”

  I shook my head. “Look, I’m not going to judge you or any—”

  “Oh, come on, Mia! What do you think I am?”

  “Well what did you just say you were?

  She glared at me. “I’m not a hooker.”

  “Andrea, I’m sorry I asked—”

  “Look, these guys have money, and they want to spend it on a girl who’ll wear that money well.”

  I shook my head, standing. “I should go shower.”

  “Sit.” Her face fell. “C’mon, Mia, let me explain. I’m not hooking, okay?”

  Her eyes pleaded with me, and slowly, I sat back down.

  “There’s no sex implied. I mean, believe me, if these guys want to get laid, they won’t have a problem. We’re talking very very rich, very good-looking guys. But they want the arm candy. They want people to look when they walk into a room.” She shrugged. “I guess you could call it escorting?”

  “You could also call it hooking.”

  She flipped me off. “I told you, it’s not about the sex. It’s about the status for them.”

  “So, you’re seeing one of these guys.”

  She nodded quietly. “Blaine.”

  “And Blaine just likes to buy you stuff?”

  She nodded. “And to go out with him to dinner and on vacation.”

  “Wait that’s who you went to the Keys with?”

  Andrea blushed. “I wasn’t in the Keys.”

  “Andrea!”

  “I was in the Maldives.”

  I whistled. “Holy shit. And they do all this for no sex?”

  She blushed again, darker this time, and my jaw dropped.

  “Oh my God…”

  “The job isn’t sex.” She bit her lip and looked down, smiling privately. “That part comes willingly.”

  She quickly took a huge sip of wine.

  “So, it’s like you’re dating?”

  “Sort of? No?” She shook her head. “It’s complicated.”

  “You’ve already said that.

  “I— we—” she stammered. “It’s not like a relationship I’ve been in before. It’s…different.”

  “How?”

  “Evolved?”

  “I don’t even know what you’re saying.”

  She smiles, sipping at her drink. “These guys…they like to be in control. And they like the girls they see to, well, to want them to be in control.”

  She paused

  “Always,” she whispered.

  I felt my pulse quicken. “God, you mean like, master-slave—”

  “Oh, stop it. You’ve been reading too many romance books. It’s not silly like that.”

  I could see in her eyes that it wasn’t. I could see that whoever this Blaine guy was, Andrea cared about him. In some way, I guess.

  “So you like him telling you what to do?”

  “It’s not like that, Mia. It’s—” She shook her head. “I can’t explain it. I don’t think you’d get it.”

  She started to get up.

  “Hey! Andrea, c’mon! Look I’m sorry, it’s just, this is a lot to take in.”

  She smiled. “It was for me too, but I got used to it. And now?” She bit her lip. “Now I can’t imagine not having it.”

  Something sparked inside of me, imagining someone taking control of me like what she was describing.

  Something definitely sparked.

  “Well, I’ll have to keep an eye out for rich, domineering, playboys who want to spend money on me.”

  Andrea was quiet for a second before she took a quick breath and glanced up at me. “Blaine actually knows someone.”

  My head jerked up from my wine. “Excuse me?”

  She blushed. “Blaine, h-he knows someone. He’s actually asked about you.”

  My jaw dropped. “Andrea! And how does he know about me exactly?”

  “I’ve told him,” she said quickly. “And maybe I gave Blaine your picture on Facebook to show him?”

  I could feel my cheeks redden. I was angry, for sure, but I was also intrigued.

  “I can’t believe you showed him my—”

  “He wants to meet you, Mia.”

  I balked. “What?”

  “Tomorrow. He w
ants to take you out get to know you.”

  My head shook on autopilot. “No, no way. I can’t believe you’d do this!”

  “I’m sorry!” Her face fell. “Look I just thought, you know, the money is amazing, and really, Blaine is a really nice guy. I figured a friend of his who he knows would be, you know, someone you could try it with.”

  “I think I’m done talking about this.”

  I started to stand, when my eyes landed on the fresh array of shopping bags on the floor of Andrea’s room. I could see them through her open door.

  She always had rent money. And mine.

  And delivery food, and nice things.

  And the fact that she didn’t work.

  I felt my pulse quicken as I slowly turned back to her. “There’s no sex?”

  “Nothing implied. I mean,” she blushed. “There can be sex, but—”

  “But you don’t have to.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  I paused. What was I doing? Why was I actually considering this?

  “C’mon, me? Arm candy?”

  Andrea rolled her eyes. “Mia, stop. You’re cute and you know it.”

  “Oh, am I?”

  I gave her a look before glancing down at my stupid Jumpin’ Joe’s Diner striped skirt and absurd logo-embossed polo shirt.

  Andrea shrugged. “Well, when you don’t smell like burgers and you’re not covered in maple syrup.”

  “Hey! I—”

  “You’ve got some right— yeah, right there.” She made a face as she pointed at my temple.

  Sure enough, my fingers came away sticky.

  She smiled. “Sorry.”

  I looked down at the stupid waitressing costume. I glanced over again at her open doorway, and the bags of things sitting inside. I looked around the apartment I had no business living in considering I had no money or job.

  And slowly, I nodded.

  “Okay.”

  I shivered as I said it.

  “Call him, or whatever. Tomorrow it is.”