Contractual

by Alice Montalvo-Tribue

  It’s been a month since I met Jackson, since I started working this job, since I sold a piece of myself that I’ll never get back. I should hate myself, loathe what I’ve become, plunge into depression at what I allowed to happen to my life. I’m not, though, and that has everything to do with Jackson Stone. Something happened after he humiliated and then bought me lunch that day in his office. I can’t exactly put my finger on it, but something in the dynamic of our relationship shifted. He stopped being a complete asshole all of the time. I mean, he’s still a fucking asshole, but he’s more tolerable, more patient with me, more human even, and when we’re together now, it’s less awkward. I’d even venture to say it’s not awkward at all anymore. I have an increased level of comfort between us that happened when he apologized for hurting my feelings. When he showed me just a hint of tenderness and remorse, he opened up a side of himself that I didn’t think existed. A side that I’m pretty sure he doesn’t show anyone, and that tiny crack in his intense persona, that glimpse of the human side of him, was enough to make me lower my guard, too.

  That shift has made doing this job almost bearable and being with Jackson somewhat enjoyable. That doesn’t mean that I want to keep doing this—it doesn’t mean that this is a career for me—it’s not. I need to do whatever I can to get out of this life as quickly as I can, so I continue to scour job sites and the classifieds daily, never losing hope that something better will come along. I’ve been able to catch up with my rent and most of my outstanding bills. I almost went back to that shop to buy back all of my jewelry, but I talked myself out of it. It’s still too soon to splurge on myself, so I’ve accepted the fact that those things are gone for good.

  I let myself into the hotel room and look around. It’s not usual, but I’ve beat Jackson here today. I toss my jacket on a nearby chair and go into the bathroom to freshen up. I’m applying a light coat of lip-gloss when my cell phone rings.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, may I speak with Sage Turner please?” asks the voice on the other end of the line.

  “This is Sage. How can I help you?”

  “I’m Hailey Bonham from Seastone Company. We received a copy of your resume and would like to bring you in for an interview if you’re still interested in the open position.”

  “Yes,” I respond. I’ve applied for so many jobs and have had no luck, so I can’t help but sound a little excited. “I’m definitely still interested.”

  “Great, how does Wednesday at ten am work for you?”

  “That would be great.” It’s not like I have anywhere to be these days. If I’m not with Jackson, I’m normally home.

  “Fantastic, Sage. I’ll email you all of the pertinent information and you can give me a call back if you have any questions.”

  “Okay, thank you so much. I’ll see you then,” I say before disconnecting the call. I barely have time to process what’s just happened when I look up at my own reflection in the mirror and see Jackson standing in the open bathroom doorway. His expression is heated. Fuck if I don’t know it’s wrong, but it makes me want him. I smile at him through the mirror.

  “Hello, Mr. Stone.”

  “Hello, Sage.”

  My eyes go wide at the realization that he heard my conversation. He heard me use my real name, which is a contract violation. If Victoria found out, she’d be furious, and I can’t afford to lose this job now that my bills are finally starting to get up to date. I have to stay put until I find something better, something legitimate.

  “I…”

  “You what?”

  I turn to face him but hang my head, averting making eye contact, “I’m sorry. I was told never to give you my real name.”

  “Hey,” he calls, forcing me to look up at him. “I won’t tell if you don’t. And you didn’t tell me, I overheard. See, no rules broken.”

  I see the humor dancing in his eyes and can’t help but to give him a smile of my own.

  “I couldn’t help but to overhear some of your conversation. You sounded excited,” he probes, taking a step closer to me. “Did you receive good news?”

  “It was a callback for a job interview, Mr. Stone.”

  “Jackson. I’m Jackson and you’re Sage,” he corrects me.

  “Jackson.”

  He takes a step closer to me then reaches out and grabs a strand of my hair, inspecting it like he would a rare work of art.

  “Are you unhappy with your current employment?” He releases my hair and slowly runs his hands over my shoulders. He makes it so easy for me to relax, to let my guard down, and I find myself melting into him. I find myself wanting his arms around me, even though I know how screwed up that is. For all intents and purposes, he’s a John and I’m nothing but a prostitute.

  “It’s not that,” I whisper, tilting my head up to look at his face. I could get used to staring at that face, which is why I need to find a real job and get the hell away from him as soon as possible. “It’s just that this isn’t supposed to be forever, only until I can get back on my feet. This job that I’m up for can help me do that.”

  “I see,” he says calmly, a look of understanding passing over his features. “Then I wish you nothing but good luck on your interview.” His arms move ever so strategically around my waist, grabbing hold and hoisting me up. I wrap my legs around his lean waist, my hands slide around his neck, and in a sudden act of bravery, I boldly kiss him. I kiss him the way that I would kiss a man who I was in a relationship with, the way I would kiss a man who I had real feelings for. I kiss him in a way that I should not ever kiss him, but I push that thought out of my head and carry on.

  “Why don’t we celebrate your interview?” he suggests when our lips part. “Will you let me celebrate with you, Sage?”

  “Yes.” I shudder at the sound of my name coming from his mouth.

  Before I can utter another word, his lips are on mine again, taking what he wants, taking absolutely everything that I can give. And, God help me, I want to give it to him. In a breath, I’m down on the mattress and my shirt is up and over my head. His lips make their way down to my neck where he gently kisses and sucks the exposed skin. I let out a moan in response. His touch makes me dizzy, makes me want even more of him, and I have to push down the feelings of guilt in order to let myself enjoy the moment with him.

  With one of his hands, he takes hold of my wrists and pins them over my head, leaving me unable to move and completely under his control. That’s what he does to me every time. Every single time we’re together, giving myself to him gets easier and easier. Every single time we’re together, I lose a little bit more of myself to him, another piece of me gets tied up and bound to him in a way that I’m not sure I’ll be able to recover from because, underneath the cold demeanor, there’s something about Jackson Stone that draws me in. It’s the most exhilarating and terrifying feeling.

  He pushes the cups of my bra down exposing my pebbled breasts, and I arch my back in invitation. It’s my way of telling him that I need him to make contact. Thankfully, Jackson understands all of my nonverbal cues and mere seconds later, his lips have attached themselves to my breast, and that alone has me crying out for more.

  “Jackson,” I call as he releases his hold on my wrists and moves to cup my other breast. His eyes connect with mine, giving me a wicked gleam as he pops my nipple out of his mouth, and he begins to kiss my now naked torso from top to bottom.

  This is new; he’s never done this to me before, and I wasn’t exactly expecting it. As awful as it sounds, the truth is that I’m here to please him. I’m here to make sure that he has an amazing sexual experience every time that we’re together. Instead, he’s taking his time on me, and I am enjoying the beautiful sensations before they’re gone.

  He makes it down to my belly button, and while placing a single kiss there, he removes my hot pink lace panties.

  “Open.” One word is all it takes for a whole new stream of heat to flood my already soaked pussy. I open up wide for him, giving him e
xactly what he asks for. As soon as my legs spread, his tongue is on me, licking up and down my labia before pulling at my clit with his perfect mouth and sucking.

  I throw my head back, enjoying the unbelievable wave of pleasure that washes over me. This is very new to me, not only with Jackson, but also with everyone I’ve ever been with. My ex-boyfriend only tried this once but gave up after ten minutes of trying unsuccessfully to find my clit. In fact, I don’t think he could have found it with a detailed map and an x to mark the spot. Jackson wraps his hands around my thighs and pulls me closer, attaching me to him so that I can’t move, so that the amount of pressure on my clit is almost too much to take.

  “Oh, my God, Jackson,” I cry between pants. He slips a finger inside of me and begins to crook it in a come-hither motion, hitting exactly the right spot.

  “That’s it, baby. Let go for me.”

  I grab ahold of his hair, needing to make sure that he stays exactly where he is. The combination of his words and his assault on my pussy is enough to set off the fireworks inside. I come hard and fast, my vision blurring from the overpowering sensations that course through me. I feel his lips kiss the inside of my thighs as the sensations start to subside.

  He called me baby. He’s never done that before, and it didn’t register when it happened, but it does now. God, I like the way that sounded coming from him, but I know he didn’t mean it in any way that matters. I can’t allow myself to read too much into it because I know that he was just lost in the moment.

  Jackson’s cock sliding deep inside of me shoves all coherent thoughts out of my brain.

  “Yes,” I sigh, grasping onto his shoulders like I’m grabbing hold of a lifeline. I crave the contact and the connection that he gives me, even if it’s one-sided, even if it’s all in my head. Perhaps, I’ve created this perceived connection in order to help me deal with the guilt of what I’m doing. Of selling my body to Jackson as a means to gain some financial stability. The problem is that even if I wasn’t being paid, at this point, I’d likely sleep with Jackson anyway. I’d like to think that this draw to him is purely sexual, but I know that’s a lie. On some level, I’ve grown to care for him. I’ve grown to want him in a way that has little to do with sex.

  I push these ridiculous thoughts out of my head and shift my focus back to Jackson, back to the feel of him sliding in and out of me, sparking something deep inside of me again. I wrap my legs around his waist, knowing that it won’t be long before he sets me off again.

  “Jackson, please,” I whimper, loving every minute of him like this.

  “What do you need, baby?” Fuck if I don’t love it when he calls me that. I don’t care that he doesn’t mean it; it makes no difference to me. For this one moment, I let myself have him without worrying about anything else.

  “Harder,” I plead, losing all control, letting myself be swept away in the sea that is all Jackson. I toss my head back at the feel of his increased pressure. God, he’s good at this—sex will never be the same after he walks out of my life.

  That’s the last coherent thought I have before I’m gone again—completely overtaken by another explosive orgasm.

  Jackson-

  I held her after we had sex, and she promptly fell asleep. What the fuck possessed me to do that I’ll likely never know. I told Victoria that I wanted different, and Meadow/Sage is undeniably that. There are the obvious things, the physical differences, from what I’m typically attracted to and the lack of money, but there’s more to it than that. She has moments where her light shines through, the times when she pushes back, battles head to head with me. Those instances set her apart from the mindless sheep I’m accustomed to; none of them would ever have the guts to tell me to go fuck myself. That’s why I’m not willing to let her go. I need more from her, more time with her, before she moves on to some other job.

  I spot her purse in the bathroom after coming in here to clean up. Pulling out her wallet, I notice that she has no credit cards, one bank card, very little cash, and an Indiana driver’s license. I return everything before walking back into the bedroom where Sage is still sound asleep. I grab my cell phone off the table and dial Mac as I head out to the living room.

  “Yes, Mr. Stone.”

  “I need you to find out everything that you can about Sage Turner, twenty-seven years old with an Indiana driver’s license.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Trace the last incoming phone call on her cell phone; she has an interview with them. Kill it.”

  “Got it.”

  “Thank you, Mac,” I say before ending the call.

  I head back into the bedroom and glance at the sleeping figure in the bed. Dark hair fans out over the pillow, a bare leg strewn over the comforter—a mixture of beauty and innocence. For a brief moment, I feel a pang of guilt. I can only imagine the level of desperation that must have led a girl like Sage to this. She wants to get out; if it wasn’t clear after the first night when I listened to her crying, it was evident from her excitement when she took that call earlier. I should support that, I should want her to have a job that she can be proud of, but I’m a selfish man. The increasing pressure at work is taking its toll, and for whatever reason, she has a calming effect on me. It may be the self-serving choice, but for now, I’d rather have her than let her have what she wants.

  She’ll never have another client, it’ll only be me for her and when we’re over…and we will be over one day, I’ll make sure that she has the means to walk away from this and settle back into a normal life. It’s the least I can do for interfering in her life right now and ruining her chance at a real job. With that decision made, my conscience is clear again and I can focus on her. I slide back into bed, pull her naked figure to mine, and go about waking her up by using my fingers on her pretty little pussy. I extract another climax from her before I set upon fucking her one more time.

  I find myself holding her again afterward, stroking her back and listening to the sound of her breath, and again, I’m unaware of what compels me to do so. Perhaps it’s just that Sage makes it easier for me to let my guard down around her. She expects nothing, where others want everything, and I find that refreshing.

  “We were only scheduled for an hour tonight. I should go,” she tells me, dragging her hand across my chest.

  “Do you have some other place you need to be?”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just that I know you follow a strict schedule.”

  “Yes, well, for once, I’m not following a schedule.”

  “So…” she draws out waiting for further instruction from me.

  “Relax, we have all night. I’ll order up some dinner.”

  “Okay, I’d like that,” she says relaxing back into me and resting her head in the crook of my arm. It seems normal, natural even, to be together this way. She doesn’t try so hard. She doesn’t force herself on me the way that other women do, the way Cecily does. Perhaps, it’s because she’s being paid to be here. She has nothing to gain by trying too hard, she gets what she came for no matter what, a paycheck. That’s all this is for her; that’s what makes this so easy.

  “I’ll need your services this weekend, Sage. Will that be a problem?”

  “Of course not, just let me know when you need me.”

  “Fantastic. I need you the entire weekend.”

  “The entire weekend?” The surprise in her voice makes me smile.

  “Yes,” I explain. “I have a work function to attend in Florida. I’d like you to come with me.”

  “What kind of work function?”

  “A golf outing and a few meetings with some colleagues and clients.”

  “You want me to play golf with you?”

  “No, Sage. I’d like you to be available to me when I have downtime.”

  “I see.” I can hear a hint of disappointment in her voice, but there’s no way that I would parade her around the vultures I do business with. I’ll make sure she has plenty to do while I’m occupied.

 
“I’ll have Mac fetch you Friday evening.”

  “That’s not necessary. I can meet you at the airport.”

  “We’ll be leaving from a private airport in New Jersey. It’s where I house my jet.”

  “You have a jet?” Again, I smile at the wonderment in her voice. I’ll never get tired of her innocent nature.

  “I do.”

  “Of course, you do. Well, then, I’ll just meet you here.”

  “I’m beginning to think that you don’t want me to know where you live.”

  “I don’t,” she answers honestly.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s against the rules of the contract.”

  “Good Lord, you and that fucking contract. Fine, I’ll have you picked up here.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  ***

  “Mac, what have you got for me?” I question over the phone from my home office.

  “Sage Hope Turner, twenty-seven years old, born and raised in Indiana. She moved to New York City with William Paterson a little over a year ago. It seems that they split ways not long after, which is when her troubles began. Late credit card payments, missing rent payments, and so on. She lost her job at a collections agency and shortly after, came to work for Victoria.”

  He’s painted a picture that’s worse than what I thought. It really was an act of desperation for her to end up in the hands of Victoria, to end up in my bed. I don’t feel sympathy often, but after hearing this, I feel it. I feel it for the girl I’ve come to know. A young girl from the Midwest, who followed some asshole to the big city and got swallowed up. Why the fuck didn’t he protect her, make sure that she was taken care of? I’m not a relationship kind of man, but if I was, I would make sure to take care of my partner. Even I’m not that big of a dick.

  “What about this William guy? Where the fuck is he?”

  “I didn’t investigate him, sir, just her. Do you want me to run a search?”

  I consider it for a beat before deciding that it doesn’t matter where the ex-boyfriend is as long as he stays the hell away from Sage. The damage is done; there’s no use in digging up any more of her past. I have a pretty clear view of what happened.