Contractual

by Alice Montalvo-Tribue

  I reach my hands behind my back and undo the zipper that holds my black skirt together. I hold it in place for just a moment before I gather enough nerve to let it fall to the floor. I fight the urge to close my eyes or cover up my body. I know that if I do that, it will send him the message that I’m frightened and intimidated. Instead, I stand in nothing but insanely high heels, a black lace push-up bra with matching panties, and a garter holding up thigh-high stockings.

  He loosens his tie, and I know I have him. He’s not going anywhere, and he’s no longer interested in sending me away.

  “Lose the underwear; leave the garter and shoes on.”

  I fight the urge to tremble, fight the overwhelming desire to retreat, turn around, and run out of this room as far away as my feet will take me. I don’t run, though. I stay put. I keep my eyes perfectly locked on him, hoping that I look like I want to be here. This is about survival. It doesn’t make me a bad person, I tell myself. I let my mind wander to thoughts of me on a beach as I slide the panties down my legs. In my mind’s eye, the water is calming, soothing, inviting. Stepping out of the panties, I force a shy smile, thinking of how warm the water feels on my body. I unclasp the hooks on my bra and let the straps slowly slide down my arms and onto the floor. I imagine the hot rays of the sun on my face as I stand there naked for his perusal—the carnal look in his eyes is akin to a wild animal about to charge. Jackson Stone is not a man to mess with. As brave a front as I’m putting on right now, inside I’m dying a little, and I’m terrified of what’s about to happen next, of what he’s about to do to me.

  “Hands on the bed, face down, ass out.” His voice cuts through my thoughts, his tone making me feel more like a hostage at the mercy of a heartless kidnapper.

  I do my best to keep my composure, nod my acceptance of his command, and walk over to the bed. I spread my legs out wide, place my hands on the bed, slowly lowering my torso until my face hits the mattress. I stay there and wait, wait for whatever comes next. And while I wait, I say a silent prayer for forgiveness. I hear the unmistakable sound of the zipper on his trousers sliding down followed by slow, meticulous footsteps. I can sense him behind me now; I know that he’s close enough to touch me. My eyes involuntarily close as he runs the tip of a single finger along the base of my neck, and I’m shocked by how good his touch feels. That feeling disappears as he pushes the hair out of my face just before he grabs onto it like a horse’s rein and violently slams into me from behind. I gasp from both the shock and the jolt of pain that I feel at the invasion. Blood tests are done often and all of Victoria’s girls are on birth control, so condoms aren’t required, but I had still hoped he would use one—at the very least for the first time. He holds onto my hair even tighter while the fingers from his other hand now dig into my hip to keep me in place. I fight the onslaught of tears and try with all my might to go back to the daydream, back to the peaceful beach that moments ago made me brave. But it’s no use, my brain is not cooperating, too busy with trying to manage the shock of what’s happening, the pain of being fucked like this—my unaroused state makes his thrusts even more painful. I bite back the scream that wants so desperately to break free from my chest and pretend to enjoy what’s happening. I moan and whimper, playing my part as though I love every second of this torturous experience, when really I’m seconds away from bursting into tears. He grunts from his position over me before he pulls out and comes all over my ass. I remain there unmoving, the sound of his heavy breathing and his zipper closing the only things that register in my brain.

  “The room is paid for through the night if you’d like to stay. I’ll see you in two days; I’ll send instructions through the agency,” he says brusquely just before he walks out of the room, leaving me all alone.

  My legs give way and I collapse to the floor. I rest my head in my arms on the mattress above me and let go, wracking sobs overtake my entire body. What have I done?

  Jackson-

  I stand outside the door for a long time, too long, listening to Meadow cry her fucking eyes out. What compelled me to do that, I’ll never know—it’s not like I give a fuck how she feels, and I don’t feel bad about what just happened. I didn’t force her to take a job as a prostitute, and I certainly didn’t put a fucking gun to her head. She impressed me with the way she stood her ground against me, how she tried to appear confident even though I could tell that she was struggling. My conscience is clear—I tried to kick her out, but then she stripped down in front of me like she knew exactly what she was doing. What was I supposed to do, send her away? No fucking man in his right mind would do that, especially not to her. The woman is absolutely stunning in that innocent kind of way. Just looking at her with her large blue eyes, her pouty lips, and her long brown hair made my cock hard. By the time I finally sunk into her, it was like a rock. Could I have been a little less forceful? Likely, yes… Taken it a little easier? Sure… But she should have walked the fuck away instead of putting on a performance worthy of an Academy Award. Now she’s done something that she’ll no doubt regret forever, and I intend to take advantage of her willingness as long as she’ll let me.

  I wait till her crying subsides. Only then do I text my driver to bring the car around, push off the door, and leave the hotel.

  “Where to, Mr. Stone?”

  “Home. Thank you, Mac,” I say to my driver before pulling my cellphone out of my pocket and making a phone call.

  “Jackson? I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight. Is everything all right?”

  “You sent me a fucking virgin?”

  “She’s not a virgin.”

  “She may as well have been for all the experience she’s had. I wanted someone who was not new to this, Victoria. Not a child on her first night out, clearly on the verge of a nervous breakdown.”

  “First off, she knew exactly what she was getting into. I do not force anyone into this line of work. Second, she was the only available girl who met your criteria. If you’re not satisfied with her, I won’t send her back to you.”

  “I didn’t say that, Victoria.”

  “Then what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that you should have told me. You pride yourself on your professionalism. Don’t you think the professional thing would have been to fill me in so I’d know how to handle the situation?”

  There’s a pause on the line and then a sigh on her end. “Yes, of course, I’m sorry Jackson. I’ll speak with Meadow and…”

  “No. I don’t want you to say anything to her. You’d probably end up embarrassing her. Let me handle her.”

  “It’s really not a problem.”

  “I said I’d handle it.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure,” I say before hanging up. I’m not sure why I handled that the way that I just did. Why do I care if Victoria speaks to Meadow, or how that particular conversation would affect her?

  I make it home and spend the majority of the night in my office accomplishing little else but thinking about Meadow and our next meeting.

  Sage-

  I lost track of how long I stayed in the shower letting the hot water scald my skin after I got home last night. As if the water actually had the power to wash away what I’d done—as if it could absolve me of my guilt—but I knew better. Nothing can take away this feeling. The sadness and depression that remains make me feel like I’m walking around in a fog. As much as I try to convince myself that it was nothing more than casual sex between two consenting adults, I know better. I know what it really was—and what that makes me—and that might be the hardest thing to accept. I let my fear and desperation rule my decisions, and because of that, I’ve done something that I’ll regret forever. What makes it worse is that I know I’ll do it again. I know that tomorrow I’ll walk right back into Jackson Stone’s life and play my part because what other options do I have? I already did the deed—what does it matter now if I keep on doing it? The sin has already been committed; the damage has already been done.
<
br />   Victoria said that she’d check in on me today, I was scared about how this conversation was going to go because as much as I hate what I have to do, the money that she’s promising me is too good to lose. I only hoped that she wouldn’t fire me after I told her about my first encounter with Jackson. I nearly leap out of my skin when my phone finally rings.

  “Hi, Sage, it’s Victoria.”

  “Hi, Victoria, how are you?” I reply, trying not to let the anxiety reflect in my voice.

  “I’m great, I just wanted to call and check in on you. How’d your first night go?”

  “Honestly, it wasn’t the best experience of my life.”

  “It will get easier, Sage.”

  “I have to tell you something.” I decide that telling her right away is the best plan of action.

  “What is it?”

  “He figured out that it was my first time, and he wasn’t happy. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for him to find out.”

  “It’s all right. I’ve spoken to Mr. Stone, and he’s fine with it. I think he’s eager to see you again, and I’m sure things will go a lot better next time around.”

  “Okay,” I say stunned by the fact that she hasn’t fired me.

  “I’ll check in on you again in a few days. If you need anything, give me a call.”

  “Okay. Bye, Victoria.” She hangs up without another word and I go over the conversation in my head. She spoke to Jackson Stone about me, they spoke about my inexperience, and yet he still wants to see me again.

  I lie in bed and my mind wanders to thoughts of Jackson Stone. It’s hard to understand why a man like him would want to use someone like me for sex when he could literally have anyone he wants. The man is so beautiful, he’s hard to look at, and it’s actually intimidating. He barely spoke, but his presence alone screams power and money. His eyes are cold, but I can’t help but think that there’s something behind them—maybe a hint of kindness that he keeps hidden away for some reason—maybe that’s why he tried to send me away. Maybe he was trying to protect me. But I didn’t leave, I stayed, and in doing so, I left myself vulnerable to him to do as he pleased with me. He was not gentle when he took me; he wasn’t slow or tender. He used me as a means to an end to get what he wanted and then left me there alone, reminding me of what it is that I’ve become. He treated me the way any man would treat a woman who he just paid for sex. Like she means nothing, like she is nothing, and in that hotel room, in that overpriced hotel in New York City, that’s exactly what I felt like…nothing.

  ***

  “Good evening, Meadow.” Jackson greets me as he opens the door tonight. He looks better than I remember, even more handsome if that’s possible. If he wasn’t such a bastard, he could quite possibly be the perfect man. I paint on a fake smile, hoping that it makes me look more confident and less like a deer in headlights.

  “Hello, Mr. Stone.”

  He steps out of the way, allowing me passage, as I enter the room. The click of the door closing behind me sends my heart racing at a dizzying pace. I know what’s going to happen here tonight, and you’d think that I’d be less nervous this time around, but that’s not the case. I’m even more nervous this time, if that’s possible. I fight back the nerves, removing my jacket and draping it gently over a nearby chair. I turn to face Jackson, and he’s watching me closely, taking me in like a puzzle that needs solving. I dismiss the urge to look down, opting instead to look him straight in the eye when I reach for the hem of my shirt.

  “No,” he says, stopping me before I pull my shirt off.

  “No?” His command confuses me. I’d assumed that he’d want to jump right into it like he did the last time.

  “You seem intimidated by me, Meadow,” he points out, taking a few steps toward me. “Do I make you nervous?” The question catches me off guard.

  “This is just new to me, sir.”

  “Of course.” He strides to the bar, grabs two glasses, and pours an amber liquid into each. He picks them up and walks back over to me, handing me one of the glasses. “Drink this. It will help.”

  I do as he says and take a generous sip of the liquid. The taste is nothing to write home about, but the sensation of warmth that invades my limbs makes it worthwhile. I close my eyes and focus on that feeling, letting it give me a false sense of security. Even though I know this is the last place or person I should be feeling that way around. He is not the kind of man who you let your guard down around. Because, if given the opportunity, he is the kind of man who will take advantage of your vulnerability.

  “Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself?”

  “There’s really not much to tell.”

  “How about the basics? How old are you?”

  I contemplate lying, but I figure there’s no harm in giving him my real age. “I’m twenty-seven.”

  He looks me up and down, maybe looking for evidence of my age; people usually think that I’m younger than I am. “You’re not from the city, are you?

  “No, sir. I‘m from a small town in Indiana.”

  “So, what prompted your move here?”

  I can’t handle the questions right now. I’ve come here prepared to do what is expected of me tonight, and I don’t need anything else to deter me. The sooner I can get this over with, the sooner I can go home. “I’m sorry, but I thought you didn’t want to get to know me.”

  “I don’t think I ever said that,” he answers with a smirk.

  “I believe you said that I was here for one purpose only.”

  “I was just stating a fact.”

  I nod my head in agreement. “Well, I think that you were right. I am here for one purpose, and I think we should keep this strictly professional,” I declare, taking his silence as the perfect opportunity to lift my shirt up and over my head. “Where do you want me?”

  He stares at me as if he doesn’t know how to take me. I get the feeling that he’s not used to people who don’t do exactly what he says or go along with whatever he wants. I stand my ground because giving him too many personal details about my life doesn’t seem like a good idea. In fact, the less he knows about me, the better. Jackson Stone doesn’t strike me as the type of man who would ever understand what I’ve gone through and why I’ve made the decisions that I’ve made. How could he when he has everything he could ever hope for in abundance? If I had to guess, I’d imagine that he’s probably never struggled a day in his entire life. And the last thing I need is to feel is as if I’m being judged by him.

  He never acknowledges what I’ve said, but he doesn’t ask me any more questions. Instead, he strides over to me, his eyes never leaving mine. I try to tell myself that I’m here because I want to be, that Jackson is just a guy who I’ve chosen to be with because I’m attracted to him. It’s not a complete lie—he is undeniably attractive, and if I had met him on my own, I might have considered getting to know him better.

  He snakes an arm behind me, grabs the end of my ponytail, and pulls—not enough to hurt, but enough to force me to tilt my head back and look up at him. I hate myself because I really like what I see, and I’m not supposed to like anything about him.

  His lips catch me off guard when they try to make contact with mine. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t want him to kiss me, but deep down, I know that it just wouldn’t feel right. This is not about love or romance; it’s not even about passion, this is about a man paying a woman for sex—nothing more, nothing less—and I refuse to give him any more of myself. I quickly turn my head, making it so that his lips land on my cheek. I can feel his body tighten as he lifts his head. He glares down at me, his hand still in my hair holding me in place.

  “I was told that I didn’t have to kiss you,” I inform him before he has a chance to say a word.

  “Says who?” he questions almost menacingly. The look on his face makes me want to cower and retreat, but I steady my breath and do my best to hide my uneasiness.

  “My contract,” I say softly, almost too quietly.

&
nbsp; “Ahh. I see. Is there anything else that I need to know about this contract?” The way he says it rubs me the wrong way. He might not take it seriously, but I do. That contract is the only thing that I have to hold onto that makes any sense of this.

  “Didn’t you read it?”

  “I skimmed.”

  Of course, he only skimmed it. The asshole probably thinks he can do anything he wants to me. “Well, I can say no to anything that makes me uncomfortable.”

  “Fabulous.”

  His arrogance is off the charts, but I keep on. “You can’t know where I live.”

  “Not an issue.”

  “We’re not supposed to have relations with other people while we’re…”

  “We can’t fuck other people, Meadow. I got that.”

  “Right.”

  “Anything else I should know?”

  “I guess that’s it.”

  “Fine.” He releases his hold on my hair, grabs me by my shoulders, and pushes me down. I land with a soft thud on the bed. I barely have a chance to recover before his hands are on the hem of my skirt and underwear and he’s pulling them both off. He tosses my clothes on the floor, and with a tug of his hands, he pushes my thighs open. He stands up, locks his eyes on mine, and begins to remove his clothing painfully slow, one item at a time. I close my eyes when he gets down to his boxers, his nakedness making me feel uncomfortable.

  “Open your eyes, Meadow,” he commands. I take a breath and allow my eyes to flutter open. He gives me a devilish grin, alerting me to the fact that he’s enjoying this a little too much. I watch his powerful hands as he pushes that last article of clothing down to expose himself completely.

  I’d like to say that I didn’t look, but the truth is that I do. I take in every inch of his naked body and it’s better—So. Much. Better.—than what I could ever even attempt to imagine. He’s tall and muscular, but not in a bulky kind of way, in the kind of way that lets you know that he takes care of himself. His abs are cut, extremely well defined, and if I were his girlfriend, I would love to run my hands along them. He knows he’s beautiful and that makes it so much worse because just looking at him makes me feel completely inferior.