“You will if it’s from Javi,” Sasha singsongs over her shoulder, and my face hurts I smile so big. She is wicked, and I love her for it!
Gretchen smiles herself. “And we already promised more details, so it will go over pay, living arrangements, et cetera. Read it. If you can live with all this…” Her arms encompass all that’s in their world.
“And with us,” Sasha throws in, and my head nods on its own.
“Then pack your bags bitch, for the craziest ride of your life!”
Still riding the high, from the real kisses and hugs I got on the way out the door, I’m deposited into the back of a super swank black Suburban. Tinted windows and gleaming white leather seats. Javi’s behind the wheel, and I’m disappointed at the addition of a worn, red-checked Pendleton shirt. I give him my address, and he gives me a slow smile, which spreads bringing those dimples back out to play. His teeth are beautifully white. The better to bite me with. Ugh, he must be their secret weapon.
“Make yourself comfortable, Bonita. There’s a TV back there if you get bored, or you can always just watch how I handle this big bad car.” Cheeky!
He winks, and my kitty purrs back. It’s going to be a long drive, but what a view.
Chapter 10
I went home. After all that, just home to the hole in the wall, rent-by-the-week studio apartment with no view, no friends. Hell, even Sam the cat didn’t seem to miss me. Javi did walk me to the door, and boy was he a handful. Or he tried to grab a handful as I unlocked the door. “Careful, Bonita. Don’t trip.”
I gave his brown hands, which were currently on each ass cheek of mine, a sideways glance. This, too, must be a Spanish thing. “Don’t squeeze the Charmin.”
He did try to look flustered, but gave a good long squeeze before pulling back. “Sorry, thought you were falling.” I couldn’t keep the smirk on, what with the smile that fought to replace it. “Okay, Javi. Goodnight.”
And with all sincerity, he whispered, “Goodnight, Bonita. The heavens are missing their most lovely angel.” I cracked up right in his face. I couldn’t help it. Is this guy for real? He took no offense, just puckered those luscious red lips and blew me a kiss! Which I caught! Before slamming the door and giggling for half an hour.
And now I’m home. Alone. And can’t even remember why I was in such a rush to get back to Lonerville.
Chapter 11
I wake to the sound of my phone ringing. I don’t even remember throwing it on the charger, but good thing I did. Seven missed calls! That’s as many as I got all last month! Don’t get all excited, I tell myself while my coffee’s brewing. It’s probably telemarketers. But it’s not. Two calls are from Target. I smirk and roll my eyes at myself. Just last week, I’d been blanketing the area with applications, and even though red’s not my color, green is. I need the money, so I don’t delete those.
There’s a call from Gretchen: “So great to meet you, Sara with no H! Two things. Javi dropped your car off in front of your building, and the keys are in your mailbox. Plus, I’ve emailed the contract to you, naughty girl, I had Javi find your email address for me. Hope you’re not avoiding us.” Okay, so I forgot to email her, no big. Hope she doesn’t take it personally.
But she kinda does. “Hey, Sara, it’s Gretchen again. Look, I hope we didn’t scare you off. You’d fit in so well here. Sasha says you have a cat; he can come, too.” Hmm, no cutesy ‘with no H’ that time, and why they gotta drag Sam into all this?
Very little time later, Sasha takes a stab, “Hey Sara, call us back.” I can hear a pout in her voice. It’s cute. I’m not annoyed, really. “Let us know you got the contract at least.”
And then, for no reason, “Sara, Bonita, I so very badly need you….to call us back. So call, baby. Oh, it’s Javi, your lover, I mean, driver.” All whispery and shit. Really?
Final call, my landlord. Shit, the rent’s late.
Deciding to return no one’s call, at least until I’ve read the contract and had coffee, I stay in, not bothering to change out of my ratty yoga pants and braless tank top. I feed the ungrateful cat, who by the way doesn’t even give me a tail swish, fickle bitch, and order in some brunch. While waiting for my coffee to cool, I see a text message pop on my phone. I’m not the kind of girl that anyone texts, so I click it. No message. Just a pic. Close up. Of Sasha and Gretchen with Javi in the middle, all blowing kisses. The Javi sandwich warms my heart. I click ‘Save’ before I turn the ringer down.
I find the email from Gretchen—not hard, she’s sent it twice—just as my food is delivered. I love the little corner café nearby, they serve brunch 24/7, and bonus, it’s an all-you-can-eat place as well. I’ve never taken advantage of that option. One look at me, they’d probably close for repairs just so I wouldn’t eat them out of house and home! They do, however, deliver for free and always slap extra portions in the bag. So lunch and dinner’s taken care of for today.
Plus, the food is good. Not write-home-about great, but good nonetheless. As I close the door, the delivery boy hands me a wrapped Twinkie. That’s odd. “What’s this?” I ask, sure it’s his attempt at a fat joke. But he just shrugs, points to my doormat, and says, “Don’t know, lady. It was lying there when I got here,” and heads back on his merry way.
I contemplate the Great Twinkie Mystery as I set my food up on the coffee table and open Gretchen’s email. She’s attached a note, and I can see this was written after several missed phone calls on my part:
Hi Sara,
Attached please find the contract we discussed last night. I know I don’t have to say this, but please don’t share this with anyone. Rest assured, we have everyone’s best interests at heart. We will treat you more than fairly and hope you’ll do the same for us while considering our offer.
Kisses!
Was I not being fair? Is that the way she saw it? Me? Who’s never said boo to a mouse? Hmm.
I open the second email, same attachment:
Sara:
Me again. I want this to work so badly, you have no idea. Sasha said you’re in the same place we were five years ago, and if that’s true…it’s a very bad place. You’re not answering our calls, which makes me think you won’t even consider what we’re offering. That makes me sad. Oh, and I never do this, but Javi said your place was…well, unsafe, which makes me think you need something better. Fast. How’s 20% to the house sound? Final offer. If you don’t respond, we won’t hunt you down at your next WW meeting. We will take no for an answer. –us
Wait. What the fuck just happened?
I overslept and lost myself this opportunity, that’s what. Before I even had a chance to decide, it was taken from me. My gut clenches. I feel diarrhea coming on as my anxiety ratchets up. They think my lazy ass is playing hardball? Me? I reach for my phone, dropping my sausage patty on the ground, scrolling down for her number. But before I press send and start begging for the job that sounds like it is slipping through my fingers, I stop. Breathe. Pick up my patty. Take a bite. Mmm, take another, savoring the real pork patty, and slow down.
Maybe I should read the contract first before I sign Sam away without even knowing it. And if by some stroke of un-luck, the job’s not there in 30 minutes, well, there’s always Target…right?
The Contract
Basically says that I won’t perform any harmful acts upon myself or others. No shit. I will make myself available for viewing during work hours, 10 A.M. to 10 P.M., every day except Sunday. Wow, 12-hour days, is this a sweat shop? Each paying client can make requests in the form of Favors, and it is up to me to perform these requests if I choose to, or give another Lady—that’s how we’re referred to throughout the contract—the opportunity to fulfill the request. Money for said Favors will be paid as follows: 25% to the house right off the top well, since I’m a lazy ass and slept through negotiations, it’s 20% now. It’s like I used a friggin’ coupon!
Base pay: For pay performances for clients. My dancing monkey fee. Will be paid at a rate of fifty dollars per hour, or
six hundred dollars per shift. Holy shit! Ladies are responsible for determining what and if any taxes are due and pay them accordingly. Any tips that the Lady receives during work hours are hers to keep. Again, refer back to the tax issue.
Incentives: Ladies will be provided with room and private bath. The room may be decorated tastefully to the Lady’s liking, so long as it is kept in mind that this will be her stage and is a representation of Chubby Chasers, Inc. So, I guess the death metal posters are out then. Groceries are purchased for the house, and each Lady is required to pay ⅙th of the grocery bill. This is where they nickel and dime me to death, no doubt. All dietary restrictions, along with any special requests, must be posted for the personal shopper, Javier Gustavez. This incentive has no monetary value, and if at any time said Lady chooses to terminate her employment with Chubby Chasers, Inc. she must vacate the room as well. We are an at-will employer and reserve the right to terminate this contract at any time, for any reason, as well as the Lady may terminate this contract at any time, for any reason.
Trial Period: While in training, a set period of two weeks’ room and board will be provided. An allowance for clothing will be provided up to 2,000 dollars, which the Lady will pay back from the first full month of pay. Here we go, the squeeze is on. Hair and make-up will be provided by Chubby Chasers, Inc. as a guideline for the Lady to follow while performing. The Lady will require still shots for promotions, and these will be paid for by, and will become the sole property of, Chubby Chasers, Inc. All piercings, tattoos, and hairstyle changes must be approved by the house prior to receiving them. Okay, Moms. During the trial period, the Lady must dedicate herself to learning proper etiquette and observing correct behavior to provide outstanding service to our clientele. The agreed-upon trial period may be shortened or lengthened by either the house or by the Lady.
Staff: We employ a personal driver, Javier Gustavez, who may be used by the Lady as long as he’s not in use. Javi is also in charge of the handymen, so any needed repairs need to be brought to his attention, whether it be a lighting issue or leaky faucet. Each repair needs a work order, emailed to his personal address: [email protected]. Meals are planned by the house and our personal chef, Chloe Marseille, who may be emailed at: [email protected]. Please make Chloe aware of all food allergies, preferences, etc. Housekeeping of room and bathroom is to be completed by the Ladies. All other areas are maintained by our cleaners, who are not on site, but come in on Sundays. Laundry facilities are provided for the Lady’s personal articles. All beds will be laundered by staff on Sunday. Please make your room available to them on Sunday.
Safety: Javier Gustavez may be utilized as a stand-in for clients wait, what? for roleplay as he is available. Whereas some Favors may need additional stimulation of the Lady, Javi is available on scene as an assistant to the Ladies for all their needs. Fluffer? Now we’re getting somewhere. Javi enjoys his work immensely but does need to be paid. A nominal fee is added to the amount of the Favor for Javi’s services. All gifts, props, money, gratuities that are sent to the Ladies from the clients must be delivered to the PO Box address that is given. These will be properly labeled with the Lady’s number and/or stage name. The Lady’s real name may never be given to a client, by herself or another Lady. No real names are to be used during live time. Never under any circumstances is the Lady to give out the address, location, or telephone number of the house. This is for everyone’s safety and doing so will result in immediate termination. No drugs, including diet pills, or unnecessary diets will be allowed while employed with us.
Wow.
I read through it twice, making sure what I read was correct. Six hundred dollars, free room, personal shoppers, housekeepers, and the big plus? Javi, a fun, flirty, not to mention sexy guy at my beck and call. Well, when he’s available, that is. I don’t think all that Bonita stuff was for show. Well, even if it was, I do not care. I’ve never had anyone make me feel the way he did in forever. I could have friends, other girls like me, I wouldn’t have to be alone.
My phone rings just as I’ve finished weighing the pros, not really seeing any cons at this point, and since Sam the cat has no objections, I answer with a resounding “Yes!” after seeing Sasha’s name on the caller ID.
“She said yes!” I hear lots of cheering on her end. Time to meet the neighbors.
I end the connection and pick at my now-cold food, contemplating TV, but all I can do is go over and over the contract. It’s hard not to. I feel like I’m dreaming, and I’m going to wake up and all of this will not be real. Things like this—good things—just don’t happen for me. The only people I have to call and tell my good news to already know. This doesn’t make me feel sad, just lets me know how alone in the world I truly am. “This is a good thing,” I say to Sam, feeding him some cold eggs.
My phone dings. Does it still need to charge? I get up and stretch. My legs and back feel like I’ve run a marathon after all this early day adrenaline. It’s a text from Sasha:
Look outside your door in 30 minutes
I have to lean on the back of the couch for support. I text back, noting the time:
I’m not up for visitors, Sasha, PLEASE!
Drumming my nails, I think about calling her at the text number, but I’m not even sure if that is possible. She sends back:
No visitors, I promise. Just a surprise!!!
I swear, if I open this door and Javi’s standing out there naked except for a big red bow, I’ll friggin’ kill her. I can’t stand here for thirty minutes without going crazy. Move, Sara. I go into the bathroom, brush my teeth, and since it needs to be done, get in the shower. I dress in an oversized sweatshirt and boxer shorts, figuring enough time’s been wasted, I head to the door.
Before I open it, I use the peephole, moving my eye around, trying to catch every glimpse of the hallway. No naked Javi on the ceiling. Cracking the door open a bit, I try to look everywhere at once before looking down. And smile.
One of them, not sure which one, left a huge bouquet of white roses in a cobalt blue vase on my doormat. I reach down, grab it carefully and bring it into the house. Intertwined between the roses are about a dozen different candy bars, all my favorites, taped to floral sticks. There’s a note—on baby blue stationary—attached.
Sara,
Words cannot express how happy I am that you’ll be joining us! Sweets for the most beautiful woman, whose scent is more exquisite than these flowers. –Javi
He was smelling my hand. I knew it!
I’m so happy, I can’t help but hum while I walk around the vase, taking it in at all angles. Grabbing my phone, I snap a quick pic before dismantling the bouquet. I want to remember this. My very first bouquet.
My phone rings as I fill the vase with water. Sam jumps off the couch, annoyed with the many intrusions in our life today. “I feel you, Sam.”
“Hello Bonita, did you open your door?” I can hear that he’s driving, and knowing how much trouble he went to, I smile. “I did.”
“Now you’re taking candy from strangers, naughty girl.” He’s playful with an edge.
“I wouldn’t call you a stranger, not after that handful you grabbed last night.”
He moans. “Don’t remind me. I may get into an accident just thinking about it.”
I laugh, but it sounds nerve wracked. “Javi, I already said yes. You don’t have to lay it on so thick anymore.”
He’s quiet. Is he relieved? “Thick? I’ve been holding myself back.”
What? Do I even want to know what no-holds-barred Javi is like?
“Bonita? You still there?”
“I am.”
He takes a deep breath. “Can I see you tonight?” I don’t even think about it. My mom would think I’m too fast, acting like a sinning whore. I shove that thought right out of my head.
“What time?”
And just like that, I’ve got my first date. With an actual guy.
Chapter 12
He shows up a little before eight. An
d waits around outside my door till eight on the button before knocking. By the time he does, I’m a nervous wreck. Before I open the door, I take a quick peek at myself in the hall mirror. I’ve straightened my black hair so it falls to the middle of my back. My eyes look nervous, my cheeks pink. I’m breathing like I’ve just run a race, and I haven’t even let him in yet. Glancing down at myself, I’m still not sure about my choice of white sweater and blue jeans. I wish I was the kind of girl who felt sexy in her own skin. He knocks again. I take a deep breath and open the door.
He grins over a pizza box. His eyes never leave mine. I smile back, motioning for him to come inside. “Thank you, Bonita.” I nod and shut the door, feeling his presence at my back. “Where should I put this?” he whispers at the nape of my neck, making all the tiny hairs on my body stand.
“On the table.” I say, leaning my forehead on the back of the door, trying to get my breathing under control.
He comes up behind me. “It’s nice to see you, Bonita, but where are those pretty eyes?” I feel his strong hands on my arms, turning me so my back leans against the door. He drags his left hand up my arm, along my exposed throat, tracing the shell of my ear, to my chin. Cupping it, he tilts my face up and waits. After a minute, I open my eyes, looking up into his face. “There they are. You are so beautiful, Sara.”
He leans down, the whole time staring into my eyes, and brushes my glossed lips with his own. Warmth fills my body as his lips come in contact with mine. His eyes don’t close, so neither do mine. “Is this okay, Bonita?” His murmured words against my lips cause my legs to clench together. He definitely knows what he’s doing. I nod, bringing my hands up to hold onto his arms. Thank goodness I’m leaning on the door. At this point, I feel like my knees could give out from this simple touch. His arms envelop me, pulling me tight against his hard chest. He smells divine. Like every wet dream I’ve ever had come to life. His hands move along my back, seductively slow. “I’m a toucher and a hugger,” he whispers against my ear. I shiver at the contact. “I also love to taste.” This last bit, whispered right into my ear, in his husky tone, makes my panties moist.
Becoming Blue (Chubby Chasers, Inc. #1) Page 5
