by Cynthia Dane
“Oh?” Once again she was afraid to ask.
“Yes. If you complete your contract, you will receive a very nice bonus at the end. That is if you decide to go along with the other aspect of this job as well.”
“What is it?”
Ethan Cole sat up straight in his chair, his striking profile puncturing the air as he turned and gazed at the wall before returning his attention to Jasmine. “I need a woman who can fulfill more than the usual needs of an office worker. Beyond taking calls, grabbing coffee, and jotting down notes for me.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a piece of paper. It fluttered down in front of Jasmine, and Ethan provided a pen for her to sign it with. A contract? No. A non-disclosure agreement. “Before I tell you and we continue with this interview, I will need you to sign that. If you choose not to, then this interview is over.”
“Huh…” Jasmine picked it up and read over the fine print. It was the standard NDA she signed at most of her temp jobs. She had to promise to not mention anything Ethan was to say next to anyone else she knew. Strange, but not unheard of. Jasmine picked up the pen and signed and dated the NDA after making sure it only applied to the interview contents. “Okay then.”
Ethan took the paper, glanced at Jasmine’s signature, and placed it into a folder at the end of his desk. Once it was stored away, he said, “I need a new sub, Miss Bliss.”
Someone must have turned down the thermostat, because the temperature dropped about twenty degrees in that fancy office. “A new sub what?” Jasmine scratched her chin. “A new substitute? A new sub sandwich? What?”
A beat, and then Ethan laughed. Pitiably, Jasmine might add. “You’re a witty woman, Miss Bliss. I like that. No, I mean a new submissive. Sexually.”
Jasmine had been told a lot of ridiculous things in her life. One time in elementary school, a male classmate tried to convince her that Santa Claus was really an informant for the FBI. “He flies over those war countries and reports back to the president!” he insisted. Then in high school, her career counselor told her that she could be anything she wanted to be with a four-year degree. That was almost more ridiculous than what Ethan Cole said to her just now.
“Ex… excuse me?” Color drained from her face. She wasn’t sure she even had a face anymore. Pretty sure it was sucked off her head from having her mind blown. “I’m sorry. I must have misheard. It sounded like you said you wanted to hire me to be a sexual submissive.”
Jasmine waited for Ethan Cole to blanch in disgust, or maybe humor. “Surely not!” he was supposed to say. “Boy, that would be weird!” Yes. Yes it was even weirder that Mr. Cole was not making such faces now.
“That is what I said, Miss Bliss. I admit it’s rather unconventional. Not every day you’re given such a proposal, I’m sure.”
“No. I can safely say I do not get asked to be some rich guy’s…” She wanted to say bitch. Sex toy. Slaaave. But before any of those words could come tumbling from the Voicebox of Sarcasm, Jasmine pushed back her chair and looked beneath the golden trim of Ethan Cole’s spiffy desk.
“Miss Bliss?”
She got up, bent down, and peered beneath the chair. Nope. No camera there either. Next she looked under the desk lamp. No chips. “Oh, come on! You got me!” Jasmine laughed, one hand wagging in Ethan’s direction. “Who put you up to this? No, no, not anybody I know, surely. But I admit that this is definitely a fun way to end the day! Where are the cameras?”
“I’m sorry?”
Jasmine sat back down in the plush leather chair, this time slumping down as she crossed her legs, pulled out a chocolate from her purse, and started munching. “Whatever. You can’t hide them for long. That NDA was for a TV show, right? Where’s Ashton Kutcher?”
“There are no cameras, Miss Bliss. I’m sorry, you must be confused. This is a serious offer, not a television prank.”
Any good humor Jasmine managed to drum up instantly left her body as if Ethan Cole were a professional exorcist. “You’re joking.” Not a question, because Jasmine could seriously not believe anything but was going on. This was a sick, twisted joke from a man who got his jollies dangling a job in front of young women before jerking them away again.
“I’m not. Granted, I’m used to seeing looks of disbelief, but not quite at this level. You’re a strange woman, Miss Bliss.”
“Strange? No, I’m pretty sure strange is when I’m called into some random billionaire’s office and asked to become his sex doll.” Jasmine sat up straight again, this time fueled by the anger bubbling in her stomach. Then her chest. Then her throat. “Are you kidding me? If this desk weren’t right here between us, I swear to God I’d slap you.”
“Please hear me out before making a final decision.” Hear him out? What, did he think that because he was a good looking rich guy Jasmine would sit and listen to whatever fell out of his mouth? Yes. Of course. “I’m not going to mince words with you, Miss Bliss. I find it’s easier to be blunt about what I want.” Ethan smoothed his tie as if he could redirect Jasmine’s eyes to his chest. It worked. Damnit! “I’m a man of many appetites. Have been my entire adult life. I’ve had various subs over the years, but quite frankly, I don’t care to date or look for the perfect partner of the moment. Especially now that I am, well, who I am.” Be smugger, jerk. “It’s easier to approach the women I come across in my life. When I saw you downstairs… I couldn’t help but be captivated by you. You’re very beautiful, Miss Bliss.”
“Gee, thanks. I’d take the compliment, but you basically said I look like someone you want to tie-up. ‘Cause that’s not creepy.”
“I don’t intend to disturb you. I understand if this isn’t something you’re interested in. But consider this. Not only will you receive the salary and benefits of being my personal assistant, but you would also receive an outstanding bonus at the end of your initial contract.”
“Wait, wait. Back up. You’re asking me to prostitute myself to you,” This was too much. Jasmine picked up her purse and had every intention of stalking out of there. That was until Ethan calmly said the rest of his proposal.
“Prostitution? No, Miss Bliss. What I propose is a business arrangement that is highly in your favor. On the surface you’ll be my personal assistant, and on those books you will receive everything due to you in that position. This includes glowing recommendations should you look for employment elsewhere in the future. Trust me, my recommendation carries enormous weight around town.”
“You don’t say.”
“But the other aspect of this relationship… yes, it is sexual. You would become my submissive for the amount of time stated in the contract. This would mean doing whatever I asked of you – within reason, of course – that may or may not be sexual.”
“Wow. You really know how to pitch this, don’t you?”
“At the end of your contract, assuming you have filled all of the terms, you will receive a bonus of about one million dollars. Tax free, because it will be my gift to you.”
For the second time since entering that room, Jasmine started looking for a camera, mic, or anything else proving that this was a prank. It had to be. Either that or she was still dreaming. Jasmine pinched herself. Nope. That hurt.
“One million. As in one million George Washington bills.”
“Yes. Puts a new spin on things, doesn’t it?”
“Wow. So I could be a high-priced prostitute. My dreams are finally coming true.”
“Really? Not even that entices you? That’s a first.”
“Oh, I’m sure it is! I bet all the women you proposition to be your contracted submissive hooker fall over themselves to start sucking your cock!” Jasmine got up, snatched her purse off the floor, and barely took the two seconds necessary to smooth out her coat. “Excuse me, Mr. Cole. I don’t know what in the world made you think it’s okay to treat women you just met like this, but I will have you know that it’s neither acceptable nor flattering. I don’t care if you offer me two million dollars
…”
“Fine. Two million.”
Jasmine snapped her mouth shut. Say what now? Was this man offering her two million dollars to sleep with him for a few months? What in the world!
Ethan picked up his pen and began scratching something down on a piece of paper he snatched from a folder. He was not perturbed that someone as lowly as Jasmine was giving him an earful about whatever it was she went on about. I don’t know, feminism maybe? She wished she was knowledgeable enough about such things to tell Ethan Cole all about them right now.
“Before you make your final decision,” Ethan began, handing Jasmine the piece of paper, “I would implore you to think it over for a few days. Here. Take this. It’s my phone number. Contact me if you change your mind. Besides, I wouldn’t have you sign any contract with me until we had a bit of a trial. Have to make sure we’re compatible. But if you want more information about it, call me here. I’ll give you a week before I start earnestly looking for someone else.”
Jasmine wasn’t going to take that paper. She was going to storm out of Ethan Cole’s office, hell-bent on destroying his reputation by taking this bull to the media and letting them have a field day over it. Not that anyone would probably believe her. Surely a tabloid would pick it up. Selling that story should hold her over until she could get paid by another temp job…
“Oh, and don’t forget that you signed that NDA, Miss Bliss. Speak of this to anyone, and you will be hearing from my lawyer. I will know. Not only would you be kissing my offer goodbye, but I would also be seeing you in a courtroom.”
Jasmine snatched the paper and crumpled it up in her hand. It was worth it just to see the mild shock on his otherwise contained demeanor. “A courtroom would be the only way I would ever let myself see you again, Mr. Cole.” She turned about-face and marched toward the office door. “You’d have to subpoena my ass to get me in the same room as you again. Goodbye! I hope you and your money rot off with your dick.” Jasmine stepped outside the office, slammed the door behind her, and quite enjoyed the strange faces she received from everyone in the office.
What a day! She could not get to the elevator fast enough.
3
After a day like that, the only way Jasmine was going to relax was if she got buzzed and watched a movie with Juan and his sister Selena.
She supplied the beer and they brought the movies. Together they took over her ratty couch and made fun of ridiculous superhero exploits as if they could save the world any better. Blackbeard yowled every time someone refused to pet him, feed him, or give him their beer. “Foul creatures. You can’t even share, yet you get after me for licking my own ass?” He had a crush on Selena, however, and often took over her lap with his gigantic, stocky body and mounds of hair that the young woman declared felt softer than her own.
Naturally Jasmine didn’t care about any of this. She also didn’t care about the movie, as funny as it was to watch through tipsy eyes. No, she was too caught up in the shit Ethan Cole put her through earlier that day.
“Didn’t get a job offer yet, huh?” Juan asked, already on his second beer. “I ask because you seem pretty pissed about something.”
Jasmine rolled her eyes and pretended that the label on her beer bottle was too fascinating to pull away from. “Maybe,” she mumbled. “Actually, that’s a lie. I did get a job offer. But I turned it down because it was super shitty.”
“Oh? What did they want you to do, scrub toilets? Sheesh, if it’s good enough for most people these days…”
I dunno. Is scrubbing his toilet part of what he wants in a submissive? Jasmine shuddered. The whole ordeal was preposterous on so many levels. She often couldn’t believe that it had really happened. Richest man in the area wants me to be his sex-slave. For two-million dollars! She wanted to tell the siblings about it. Oh, did she ever. She wanted to rant about Ethan’s stupid face and his stupid office, and she wanted to tell them about his absurd proposal. For two-million dollars! But Jasmine didn’t dare. Mostly because she also didn’t doubt for one second that Ethan Cole really would sick his super lawyer on her and sue her for every last dime she had at the bottom of her purse. Not that she had anything. Maybe I can give him my student loans. He would pay them off with a wave of his hand.
There was one way, however, she could bring it up without voiding the NDA.
“Some guy did ask me out on a date, however.” Ethan had done more than that, but Jasmine would segue into it. “Real jerk. Sad thing was that he was totally gorgeous and if he weren’t a jerk I may have taken him up on it.”
“Hit on at a job interview? Wasn’t one of your interviewers, was it?”
Jasmine became tight-lipped for the second time that day. Do I tell them? Would that break part of the NDA? “No,” she decided to lie. “Some other guy who works there.”
Selena leaned forward from where she sat on the other side of her brother. “He’s gorgeous, you say? Even so, you did the right thing. That’s so inappropriate to hit on a woman when she’s trying to recover from a terrible job interview.”
The only thing Jasmine could say to that was a glare meant for Selena’s subconscious. “I didn’t say it was terrible. Just that I’m not likely to be working there anytime soon.”
“Tough times for all of us.” Juan sat his empty beer bottle on the coffee table made of crates and corkboard. “At least you’re getting interviews. My cousin has sent in fifty résumés around town and not a single call back. I hear that’s normal these days.”
Please don’t remind me. It wasn’t usual for Jasmine to get call backs either. No one wanted to talk to her. No one wanted to give her money for services. Except that Ethan Cole guy… Every time she thought of it, Jasmine went through three stages: excitement that she was offered such a prestigious position that would look fantastic on her résumé, shock that she was then propositioned for something like that, and then disgust for herself and the man who did it.
Why would Ethan Cole want her like that? What was it about her that set his sights on her by chance that morning? There were half a hundred women milling around the atrium when he passed through. Yet something had called his attention to Jasmine Bliss, a woman of modest appearance and mediocre talent. Don’t be so hard on yourself. It was a problem Jasmine had sometimes, especially when she looked at the state of her adult life so far. Only three years out of college and her résumé looked like she went into a career buffet and sampled a bit of everything before realizing she was either allergic or not into Salmonella. In truth, I’m stuck in temp hell. A hell she really wanted to escape, but had no idea how.
Jackson-Cole was her first chance in many months to get out of her paycheck-to-paycheck cycle. It didn’t help that she had over forty thousand dollars in student loans breathing down her neck, or that dietary restrictions meant buying food she could barely afford, or that…
I need a job so badly. A steady one, where she knew how much she was getting every month – Thirty bucks an hour! – and even had insurance so she could go to the doctor for the first time in a year.
“You guys know anyone with a sugar daddy?”
Both Juan and Selena eased away from her on the couch. “Sugar daddy?” Selena asked. “You mean like some old rich guy paying your bills while you go out with him?”
“That’s what it usually means, yeah.”
“No. No we can’t say we know anyone,” Juan said.
“Speak for yourself! Back in high school I had this friend who had a sugar daddy. Guy was a real creep. Only met him once, but I was so skeeved out I refused to be around him ever again. It was clear that he was using her for sex. But she wasn’t complaining because he bought her all sorts of nice stuff and paid for her first year of college. I don’t talk to her anymore though. No idea what happened.”
“That’s intense.” Juan folded his arms behind his head. His legs spread out and took up most of the room, forcing Selena and Jasmine to shuffle to the farther ends. Thanks. “Seems like it would
be more work than it’s worth finding some rich guy to pay for your crap. Getting a regular job would be easier.”
“You might be surprised,” Jasmine mumbled. “I mean, you’d be surprised how forward some men can be.”
The movie and beer night came to an end shortly after that. Selena picked up her brother and took him out into the cold, loud night where sirens continued to go off and an angry dog barked loud enough to send Blackbeard hissing under the couch. The only thing Jasmine could see was her cat’s giant, poufy black tail swishing against the moldy linoleum.
“What in the world am I going to do?” Jasmine knew it was a hopeless question to ask the cosmos. And by the cosmos she meant the image of Neil deGrasse Tyson, who popped up on her TV as soon as she shut off the movie.
Too bad I can’t just peace off of Earth. No, not by some terrible end. Jasmine wanted to get on a spaceship and go out into the universe, where she had a good reason to be single and jobless. I’m exploring space for the good of mankind. No need for a boyfriend or a job out there! The loneliness would probably destroy her, but it was better than sitting in this craphole of an apartment and… damn, who would feed the cat?
