by Lila Younger
There’s another pause.
“Excellent service as usual… Very satisfied… Goodbye.”
I frown, trying to make sense of the call. What did he mean by it’s finished? As far as I could tell, there’s still one more day left. If it’s finished, and I haven’t fulfilled my part, does this mean I won’t be getting anything more? Does this mean I’d have to return the amount they already gave? And the way he spoke, as if everything is strictly business as usual, even though he wooed me with gifts and fancy dates, a trip to his favorite place in the world, one he took only for me, and then cuddling up and falling asleep together… did all that not mean a thing? I thought maybe there was something there, but I sure was a fool. Tears sting my eyes, and I’m more pissed at myself than anything so I rub my eyes hard until they’re gone.
Because when I think about it, Spencer never promised me anything. He didn’t actually break any rules, or go against his word. So why am I so upset? Is it because for just a moment, he made me feel like I was being romanced for the first time in my life? I guess he got that first out of me too, I think sarcastically. Everyone but the one he paid for. It made no sense, but then again, what do I know about the minds of the rich and powerful? We’re all just pawns to be bought and toyed with until they get bored.
I’m so worked up that it takes almost another ten minutes for me to get myself under control. What a joke. Here I am, trying to sell my virginity so I can help my mom and I, not fall in love with a man who sees me as just another conquest to warm his bed until he gets bored and moves on to the next virgin available for sale. I just need to face the music, and get out of here as soon as I can. I’ve stayed long enough, made the classic mistake by confusing sex and love.
Once I’ve managed to get my face blank enough, I clomp down the stairs, making enough noise that he’s sure to hear me.
“Good morning,” he says with an easy smile. “I was worried you’d never wake up.”
“Well you worked me hard,” I say, aiming for levity. “Is that bacon I smell?”
He offers up a plate, and I take it with a smile. I can do this. I can be polite and friendly, and then when I get home, I can figure out a way to return the money I got and move on with my life, before I make an even bigger mess of things.
Chapter 8
I’m moody and grumpy when Spencer drops me off, but he got another call about the Sapphire, so he’s pretty distracted. I guess that’s a good thing, because maybe the work will just keep him busy and we won’t have to cross paths again anymore. Officially our contract ends at midnight, but as far as I’m concerned, he had his chances and he didn’t want to take them.
The coming days do little to change my mind on things. I stick to my room, pretending to study when my mom asks me what I’m doing. I’m actually listening to sad emo music, the kind teenagers would angst over when their crush didn’t look their way, but wallowing in things feels a lot easier than trying to figure out my next move. Honey Foxes hasn’t called about the money, so technically we’re no worse off than we started, but I don’t know what to do. I feel like I can’t move on from things, and I don’t know why.
The only time I come out of my room is for dinner. I know if I skip those, my mom will really worry. On one of the nights together, the local news runs a feature on Spencer. He’s at some kind of press event, and my mom turns up the volume. In response to cutbacks in the arts and after school programs, Spencer has decided to partner with the Y in Nevada to offer free lessons in art, music, and theatre for any children who wants to sign up. The program is huge, and I’m absolutely shocked that he’s doing this.
“What’s the inspiration for all this?” one of the reporters asks him.
He looks directly at the camera, and I’m saddened to say that those green eyes still an effect on me still. It feels like he’s looking at me directly, even though that’s ridiculous of course.
“I’ve met someone in my life who’s shown me that there’s a gap in our education program for those who have the creative talent, and yet lack the opportunity to pursue such talents. I thought that this would be a good way for me to bridge that gap as an individual. I’ve accumulated my fair share of wealth, more than I would use in my lifetime. There’s a need here for funding, and it seems our interests align.”
My mom turns to me.
“Speaking of Spencer’s,” she says. “What happened to yours?”
I tear my eyes away from the T.V.
“Mine? Nothing,” I say. “Nothing’s happened.”
“I notice there aren’t any more fancy presents or late nights out, so don’t say it’s nothing.”
I shake my head.
“I mean like, nothing is happening mom. I thought there was, but I think he’s gotten bored already. I was just a distraction.”
Tears well up against my own wishes. I didn’t want to cry in front of my mom, but they keep falling, one after another. My mom opens up her arms to me, and I lean into it. I’m supposed to be nineteen, but for a moment I just let it out, as if she could fix it again with just a hug.
“I’m sorry,” I say once the tears have slowed down.
“Tessa, first of all, I don’t want you to ever be sorry for talking to me about what’s going on in your life,” my mom says sternly. “Secondly, maybe you should tell me what happened.”
I give my mom a very clean, censored version of events, about how Spencer seemed to be interested, and yet, time and time again, despite everything, he shows no attraction but never acts on it. About how I feel like he’s just toying with me, seeing how I would react. About how I got scared that I was falling for him, and that I didn’t want to when he’s shown almost no signs of commitment on his end.
My mom nods intently as I tell as much as I possibly can.
“You know,” she says when I finish, “it seems to me as though you’ve assumed an awful lot about Spencer, without actually talking to him about it. In fact, almost everything that you’ve told me is one-sided. Have you sat the man down and asked him outright?”
I pause, pick at my dinner as I think her words over.
“Mhm,” my mom says. “Maybe that should be your first step.”
“You don’t think he’s being an asshole like my biodad?” I ask.
“Well, he didn’t want to do anything aside from sex,” my mom says drily. “In fact, I don’t think we stepped foot outside a hotel room the entire time we were supposedly together. I was too young to understand that that wasn’t a real relationship. What you have here seems quite the opposite. Perhaps there’s a reason he’s waiting?”
“What could possibly be a reason mom? I thought sex was all guys wanted.”
She stabs a piece of broccoli and waves it at me.
“Not all,” she says. “A few of them do want something that lasts too. You won’t know for sure unless you ask him. All this speculating, all this guessing, it’s just tormenting you. That’s why you feel you can’t move on. Because a part of you doesn’t know the answer, and you’re holding out hope. Which isn’t a bad thing, but until you know for sure, you’re always going to get caught back up in ‘what ifs’.”
Everything she says makes sense.
“Look, if he’s the one, and he sounds like he might be, since he wants to do more with you than sleep with you, perhaps you should give him the benefit of the doubt. Ask him plainly, and see what happens. I know women these days have some kind of thing against asking, but it seems like it’s going to be up to you this time.”
“Did you-Did you do that with dad?” I ask her softly.
“I did, in the end, and you know his answer. At first it hurt, of course, but honestly, it was better that I knew before you were born so I could shed that weight from my shoulders.”
I look at her and raise an eyebrow.
“Weight? Aren’t children supposed to be your greatest joy?” I ask her teasingly.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t terribly hard. I wouldn’t change it for the world, b
ut I’m not going to lie and say it’s all sunshine and rainbows. Which brings me to the second half of this conversation…” she puts a hand on me and fixes me with a stern glare. “If you do end up having sex, be very, very careful with protection. He might be wonderful, but not all men want to be fathers. You shouldn’t hope that he will just because he loves you.”
I try hard not to think about the fact that I’ve already let him come in bare in my ass.
“I guess I should probably go make a call,” I say, leaping up from the table.
“Yes, you should. Just remember Tessa, that no matter if he wants to be with you or not, it’s not a reflection on you,” she says, patting me. “Just keep that in mind.”
Chapter 9
I run as fast as I can back to my bedroom. Now that I know what to do, I’m impatient to do it. I unlock my phone, and dial as fast as I can, before my mom’s pep talk fades and I convince myself not to again. It rings once, twice, and I think maybe it’ll go to voicemail. That might work out better. If I mess it all up I can at least delete and start over a-
“Hello Tessa,” Spencer says, that low voice sending a twinge of desire through me.
“Spencer,” I say. “Hi.”
There’s a pause. He’s waiting for me to explain why I called him.
“I just want to say congratulations on your non-profit collaboration program. I just saw the news. It’s really amazing what you’re doing.”
“You saw that did you?” he says ruefully. “I didn’t want to be there, but the Y was very insistent about it. I think they’re hoping that maybe it would spur a few others to do something similar.”
“Well, I hope they do,” I say softly. I can only imagine how many kids this will help, how much I myself could have benefited from such a program.
“It’s not too late for you,” he says, once again reading my mind. “You can still learn to play yourself.”
I laugh, a sad laugh.
“I don’t think so. If I wanted to become part of the Philharmonic, I’d need to have practiced for years when I was younger.”
“So that’s it? That’s the only path you want to take?”
I pause, my eyes landing on the sheet music with all of my own songs. I’ve stored everything I’ve ever created. When I was young, my band teacher saw my passion and decided to teach me the basics. The rest I know about composing comes from books I’ve checked out at the library. They’re rudimentary at best, and I know that I’ve probably broken tons of rules, but they’re still the most important things I own.
“No,” I say heavily. “But this isn’t what I really wanted to talk to you about. I was hoping I could see you. Tonight, maybe?”
“Of course,” he says quickly. “Should I send for a car?”
“I can drive.” The last thing I want is to have to get rejected and then have to wait for him to drive me home. No thanks. “Where do you live?”
He gives me the address of the Belmont, which I guess I should have known. I wonder if I should dress up, I ponder, biting the inside of my mouth. No. Lip gloss isn’t going to sway his decision. He can take me exactly as I am. Fun as it’s been to dress up and get pampered, it’s not really who I am every day. I should probably at least show him what he’s getting into.
I grab my keys and a jacket, tuck my phone in my pocket, and head out. My mom waves to me, a smile on her face, and I smile back. The drive is long, but I spend it running over everything I want to say, trying to figure out how to get across all that I feel. I’m not sure I’m fully ready even by the time I show up at the Belmont. It’s a huge complex, towering over the rest of the Strip. In the darkness, it glow with blue lights, a huge sign announcing a Cher concert slated for next week. I park my car, and walk a long way inside. The lobby is cool and quiet, and gold is everywhere. It’s as big as a football field, and even here I can hear the distant sounds of slot machines. I follow Spencer’s directions around towards the back, where a valet stops me.
“Tessa?” he asks.
“That’s right,” I say, holding my chin high.
“This way.”
He presses the elevator button for me, and waits silently until it opens up all the way. I step inside, and he returns to his post. That must get pretty boring, having to stay there all day and all night, I think nervously, trying to distract myself from what I’m about to do. When the doors open, all I see is him. He’s waiting for me. He isn’t wearing his suit jacket, and his shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbows. The usual tie is missing, and he’s unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt. He looks like he’s still working, and I’ve interrupted him. Nonetheless, as soon as I see him, whatever else I feel, there’s a rush of happiness.
“Tessa,” he says, his voice full of something like relief. “You’re here.”
“Of course I’m here. I’m the one who asked to come,” I say.
I try not to wring my hands, keep them to my side. I don’t want to be nervous right now, but I am. My heart’s thudding in my chest, and my stomach’s in a tight knot. I know the words I should say, but I can’t find a way to spit it out.
“I’m glad. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he says, which definitely makes no sense.
“So why haven’t you called?”
He looks at me.
“Something changed on our night together. A wall came down. I’m not about to fuck a woman who isn’t willing.”
“Is that so?” How can he be so calm when I’m a ball of nerves? It’s positively infuriating. “So what about all the other times when we could have done it and you didn’t? We had a contract.”
“Were you not paid?” he asks quietly. His tone is serious, and I’m not sure if it’s because of me or something else.
“What? I haven’t checked. I thought that since we didn’t… I mean… the deal was your money in exchange for my virginity. I thought…” my voice trails off. “Did you not tell them?”
“No, I didn’t.”
Relief pours through me as I digest the words he has to say. All the money is in my bank account. Mom can finally quit and recuperate, I’ll be able to finish school. We can even take that vacation. We could take ten vacations. Behind him, in the glass, lights shine back and forth in the desert night, and the Strip is all lit up. The clash of colors mirrors how I feel inside.
“Why?”
“You needed the money,” he says, “so I made sure that they would release it to you.”
Is that what the phone call to Miranda was for?
“But we haven’t-you still don’t have my virginity.”
He takes one step closer towards me, and then another, until we’re only inches apart. I have to look up at him, because he towers over me.
“Do you know why?” he says softly.
“No,” I say. “Why?”
He gives a short laugh.
“So you want me to say it,” he says. “I suppose it’s only fair. When I heard you were a virgin, the idea of being your first turned me on. The thought of going where no man has been, doing to you what no man has done…Fuck, that made me so hard. But then something happened when I went out with you Tessa. I became curious about you. I wanted to figure you out, to unravel why such a beautiful, smart, woman like yourself would still be single. I-I began to enjoy your company.”
He says this last part so low I have to strain to hear.
“I only had a week, and I loathed the idea of cutting even that short. So I delayed. I drew it out, every agonizing step. Of course, in between I had the merger, and I couldn’t abandon my responsibility to those employees, no matter how selfish I wanted to be.” He closes those emerald green eyes briefly. “No matter how much I hated that they took me away from you.”
My lungs have stopped working. At the very same time, it feels like my hearts about to explode with joy.
“I was falling for you hard, Tessa, but I knew that as long as we had this contract between us, that forced you to stay with me, we could never be truly together
. So I told Miranda that it was done, and I was ready to tell you that you were free. I woke up that morning so fucking happy. But when you came downstairs, when I saw that there was a chasm between us, I thought you felt differently about our time together. I thought the wisest thing I could do was to let you go. It started as a business transaction, so it seemed fitting that it would end that way too.”
“But it wasn’t,” I say softly.
“No, by then it wasn’t, but I never claimed to know very much about that,” he says bitterly. “If my history has proven anything, it’s that that’s my one weakness.”
“I didn’t know very much either,” I tell him. I can see the emotion in his eyes so clearly now. “Not until now. I-I was falling for you too. Only I thought that you waiting was your way of telling me no.”
Spencer shakes his head hard.
“Never Tessa,” he says gruffly. “I think about you all the time. From when I wake up to the time I go to sleep. I’ve been kicking myself for my stupidity every day.”
We close the gap between us, our lips crashing together hard. He lifts me easily, and my legs wrap around his waist. I want my pussy against his cock, feel our heat pressing together. Our kisses are frantic, our mouths parting, our tongues dancing as he carries me to his room. I can feel the hunger, the pent up desire from this whole week running over. His hands grip onto me tight, too tight almost, as I lock my arms behind his neck. I’m putting every part of me into the kiss, every last bit of my soul belongs to him. My heart thuds fast, and it’s only when our lungs burn for air that we part for a moment before coming together again. Every part of my body yearns for Spencer, needs him now, and I know that he feels the same for me. I grind my hips into him, into his stiff erection until he groans.
“You’re mine now,” he says, his eyes bright. “You’ll always be mine.”
“Always,” I echo breathlessly, and we kiss again.
His bedroom is huge, with floor to ceiling windows and a bed the size of a ship. It dominates the room, and I catch brief glimpses of dark colors and leather before he throws me onto his bed, coming down on top of me. Clothes are coming off in a flurry, the buttons of his shirt practically popping off in our desperate to touch skin to skin. His cock is so hot, so hard against me, and finally with relief there’s nothing left between that huge dick and my slick pussy. I moan into his mouth, our tongues tangling. I draw my fingers down his shoulders, across his back, needing to touch him.
