by Alice Ward
Sylvia’s eyes grew even bigger.
“Can’t you see it’s all ruined? This was my shot, my best shot.”
“You weren’t going to get hired at Chanel anyway,” Lance snarled my way.
I stood in complete silence for a long moment, everyone staring at me, waiting. Then the words poured out, the ones I’d held in, been too nice to say. “Thanks for the confidence, Lance. You people need to grow up. I’m sick of the reeking stench of smoke, the trash everywhere, the stinking dishes piled in the sink, the rotting food in our room.” I blinked rapidly, refusing to cry in front of them. “I’m sick of the little things, like buying what I like and someone just using it, even my deodorant. I’m sick of the bigger things, like you, Sylvia, giving your pervert of a boyfriend a key to our apartment.”
Sylvia grimaced then looked guilty.
“And I’m sick of the total disregard and respect for what’s important to other people. I’m so sick of all of this!” My throat closed up then, or I would have gone on.
Lance disappeared into his room and returned momentarily with a folded paper that he placed in my numb hand. “Good, then this should make your day better.” He turned and went into his room, slamming the door.
The vibration of the door slamming caused Lance’s favorite bobblehead of the NY Beast’s Ace Newman to nod his head as if he agreed wholeheartedly with his leader.
I unfolded the letter and started to read… something that had the heading “Lease Termination Notice” and “Notice of Non-Renewal.” The heat in my body turned to ice.
Evicted.
I was being evicted.
Because my landlord and I had drunkenly fallen into bed with less than stellar results on his part, and he was ashamed to have me around.
Now, I was perpetually the chick-Lance-couldn’t-get-a-boner-with.
My hand, which felt suddenly like it didn’t even belong to me, picked up the bobblehead and hurled him at Lance’s door, where he smashed to pieces, his head rolling to a stop at the foot of minidress guy.
I dropped the letter and ran for my room, locking the door against intruders.
Sylvia immediately started banging on the other side. “Let me in, Ava. Please. I didn’t know they did that. They must have done it after I passed out.”
I didn’t answer as I fought to lower my heart rate back to normal and turn my brain toward somehow salvaging my eleven o’clock interview.
I need to get out of here. Like, for good.
Suddenly, I felt ages older than my roommates, even though Sylvia was only one year behind me in fashion school and Lance was a twenty-six-year-old perpetual frat boy.
I needed to get out of this cramped, two-bedroom apartment and start living like an adult. Chanel had been my best shot, and I knew my other creations would fall short. I’d put everything I had into the samples aimed at the high-end brand.
Drained, my knees gave out, and I plopped down on my daybed, taking in the plates of dried up pizza crusts that were encroaching on my side of the room.
Sylvia banged again.
Her side of the room was draped in dirty clothes, multiple glasses crowded together on the bedside table. No surface was visible.
I shuddered and moved my eyes back to my side of the room, which was pleasantly neat and dust free. I could almost hear the armies of dust motes from her side planning their attack.
A lone tear escaped my eye and ran down my cheek. Rapidly followed by more.
I need to get out of here, soon.
“Please, Ava, I have a plan, one that would get you a better place and help you start your business. If you’ll just let me in.” Sylvia sighed loudly and scratched on the door. “I know you worship Chanel, but don’t you want your own business? I know how you could get it.”
I snorted and rolled my eyes. Right. But her words seemed to stick in my head and became so tempting that I reached over and flicked the lock, letting her in.
“C’mon.” Sylvia’s hand ran across my back. “You have all kinds of creations. Let’s find what we can to replace the… um, others while I tell you about this contest.”
“Contest?” I blew air through my nose and took several deep breaths, knowing I had to do whatever it took to make it to the interview. To not be a no-show.
Sylvia grabbed my laptop and flopped down next to me on my bed, her many face piercings glinting in the early morning sunlight coming through the window, making her look like an over-stuck voodoo doll who had cried her mascara down her face the night before. Sylvia was the perfect fashion designer. We’d met in design school when she’d taken me under her wing, the too sweet country girl who was drowning in the overcrowded city of New York.
Sylvia knew about everything that was “in.” I didn’t know much about her home life before design school and New York, other than that she had a mess of brothers and her parents lived together on Long Island. She never went home and was always either going out with one of the hundreds of people she seemed to know or throwing a raging party on our rooftop, which was a ghetto utility space that housed wires and pipes that we were expressly forbidden to use. The property owners lived in Florida and never came to check on us or fix anything that was broken, so we had a leaky faucet and full rooftop access — not a bad trade-off, if it was your style.
Rooftop parties weren’t my style. Parties weren’t my style. Other than fashion, I didn’t have a style.
“There’s this contest on Hedon.com.”
“Hey what?” Didn’t hedon refer to pleasure? As in hedonism? Wasn’t that dirty or something?
“Just listen before you spaz out. Look.” She pointed a black fingernail to the contest link and clicked.
It was an advertisement for a contest of undisclosed requirements, other than the entrants had to be younger than twenty-eight — I was twenty-two — open to premarital sex, use of sex toys, and not object to the introduction to exotic fetishes.
Um. No.
Before I could open my mouth, Sylvia jumped in with, “The contestants get one hundred thousand dollars just to play and are competing for ten million dollars. You meet the age requirement.” Sylvia’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “The last day to enter is today. This could solve all your problems.”
A guaranteed one hundred thousand dollars just for showing up? Ten million if I won?
I shook my head, shaking the dollar signs away. “Yeah, if I was into promiscuous sex or didn’t mind… um… fetishes. Shudder. No thanks. Help me pick some other outfits for the interview. They won’t be—”
“Screw that interview. There!” Sylvia hit enter with a flourish. “You’re entered.”
“I-I’m what?” I sat bolt upright on the bed, sure she was joking. She hadn’t just entered me in a fuckfest?
“You have a great chance at getting in, and a hundred kay will go a long way to—”
“Are you out of your mind? I’m not entering that contest.”
She glanced back down at the laptop, then up at me and shrugged. “Looks like you already did. You’ll be getting a call from Harvey Huffman’s personal secretary if you make the cut.”
“The cut? Harvey Huffman? Of Gentlemen’s Review magazine? I won’t be answering.” I snorted as I went to the minuscule closet and yanked open the door. “Don’t help me anymore, Sylvia, please.”
Sylvia didn’t care about being famous or even recognized, she wanted to do as little as she could for the most money. I wanted my name known in fashion.
But now I’d screwed it up. All because I’d been drunk and high on graduating, and it had been so long since I’d had sex. The last time I’d been with a man was freshmen year. Now I had to find a place to live on top of finding a job.
My eyes scanned over the options I had to take for my interview. They would never do, but I had no choice.
This was a mess, and a hundred grand would go a long way toward fixing it. The Gentlemen’s Review was a tasteful one, even if it was a nude magazine. Hedon.com I didn’t know about.
/> Hearing the bedroom door open and close, I gave in to my curiosity and went back to my laptop, clicking on a link that promised visual delight. I recoiled when a video popped up of a darkened room in which a sexy as hell guy was running what looked like a leather thing with tassels down a restrained woman’s naked back. When he reached her bare ass, he paused, then slapped it with the tassels.
I gasped along with the woman and leaned in closer.
He did it again, bringing the leather slowly downward then slapping it against her bare skin. This time she moaned.
Heat built between my legs as he did it again, harder. My breath was coming fast, just like the woman’s… when she came, screaming her delight.
I shut the laptop with a snap. Shook my head, feeling like a voyeur. But what they were doing didn’t look bad or scary, or wrong. The woman was obviously enjoying herself, a hell of a lot more than I had been lately.
What if I did make the cut? Would it be worth it? Would it be like the video?
Would it harden me into the city girl I needed to be to survive here?
I needed to do Dhyana, the Hindu form of meditation my grandmother had taught me.
I jumped up from the bed. I didn’t have time to watch X-rated videos, much less meditate.
Barely had time to make it to the interview.
Going into the closet, I resolutely made my choices and got dressed to give Chanel a taste of… my second best.
CHAPTER THREE
Lucas
A week later, mid-January, I had signed the legal contract that bound me to my uncle’s game and was making myself comfortable in front of a blazing fire in the den at the Céleste Chalet in Vail, Colorado.
I’d accepted that I was a pawn in the game and arranged my life to fit in under a week, appointing a trusted colleague to oversee my business engagements. It would all be worth it in the end.
The chalet was massive and was beautifully decorated for the upcoming holiday season — if you like hearts and shit. Valentine’s Day… the day of love. Just the thought of it made me curl my lip.
A stiff butler, dressed in formal butler attire, entered the great room. “Your dinner is served in the dining room, sir.” His tone was so formal, it was obvious he’d gone to butler school to hone it to perfection.
The thought of sitting down to drinks and a light dinner with Mason was painful. Since this was day one of too many to get my head around, I decided to make the best of it. We were served salad, salmon with tarragon sauce, and Sauvignon Blanc and ate in awkward silence for a while.
“We have to live here with these women for a month and compete in god only knows what ways. You know I have more talent with women.” He took a bite of salmon with his fork facing downward — a European habit that got on my nerves. “I can take any woman I set my mind to away from you, Lucas. The past tells the tale.”
I bristled at his reference to Amber. Mason was trying to undermine my confidence. I laughed and hoped it sounded completely confident. “The old man is nuts. If he chooses total coo-coo brains, you might need me here to protect you.”
Mason huffed. “I’ve seen the women he puts in his magazines. I’d go a few rounds with most of them.” He threw his hands out and drew two curves in the air for the curves the women were sure to sport.
He was right about the magazine. The women Uncle featured in his magazines were gorgeous — all tits, tiny waists, fucking legs for days, nice round butts. Who didn’t want to get a woman like that on her back?
It was the other women I was interested in, the ones he wasn’t considering. The ones featured on the website with a streak of freak running through their blood. And if she had more than a streak, it was only a few weeks. Who cared if the one picked for me was wild if she had a ball gag in her mouth and her hands were tied to a post. I could deal with any kind of crazy for a short amount of time, especially since I was fairly certain we’d be having a fuckathon. Just thinking about it made my dick hard.
“You really think you’re going to spend a month with a centerfold?” I almost snorted through my nose. “More like you’ll end up at the submissive end of a bullwhip like some of the guys on the website.” Okay, so I was exaggerating, but Mason didn’t know that. I’d guessed correctly that he didn’t check out the website like I did.
Mason stopped chewing and looked up at me. “Uncle has a sick imagination, but he wouldn’t…” I could practically see his mind filter through all the extreme things he had heard about the site over the years. “Surely not.”
“You seriously think he picked a homecoming queen for you? Probably the opposite. You really think you can spend all this time with someone you don’t like? Someone who might want to handcuff you to the bed and use battery operated tools on you?” I made a zzzt sound as I bored a hole in the middle of my salmon steak with my knife.
He pointed his fork at me. “Shut up.”
I laughed. “Women are moldable, Lucas. If you had half my charm, you wouldn’t be worried about chains and whips.” I could so go two weeks with a girl in chains… where could I sign up for that? “There’s nothing wrong with a little chains and whips, cuz.”
Mason shook his head. “He’s the designer of this competition. Can you imagine what he’s going to have us do?” This was probably the crux of his worries, but I didn’t want him to know it was also mine. Even I didn’t want to imagine what my crazy Uncle Harv was planning.
I liked my fair share of naughty but having my uncle dictate it was heading toward creepy town.
“Yeah, that might get a little intense.” I took a bite to keep my mouth busy so I couldn’t say more.
“A little intense? Have you seen some of the shit on his website?”
“I happen to like Hedon very much,” I mentioned, leaving that fact there for him to digest.
He whipped out his iPhone and asked Siri to bring up Hedon.com. “Okay, here’s a recent headline for you: DIY… Do It Yourself Dildos for the Daring. The article shows how to make dildos the chick can shove up a man’s ass. But it mentions how she has to “toss the salad” first.” His voice rose a caliber. “You want to tempt this kind of crazy? You actually like stuff like this?”
“When on the island,” I offered as I lifted a piece of salad with my fork and slipped it into my mouth.
A spark of competitiveness lit in Mason’s eyes. Mason and I were about to go head to head against one another, what we did best. And my uncle, being litigious to a fault, had surely outlined rules for engagement which were almost unbearable.
As it turned out, I was right.
Uncle Harv joined us in the library for after dinner drinks. He’d just arrived and looked a little weary reclining in the old-fashioned wing chair, and I wondered again if he was feeling all right. Before I had a chance to inquire, he greeted us in his usual booming manner and moved straight to the topic of the contest as he ordered us to sit.
“Boys, I want you to realize that though the nature of your assignments will be almost entirely sexual in nature, you will be under strict rules and regulations.”
Almost entirely sexual?
Hearing these words come from my uncle’s mouth was disturbing but also a dream come true. An entire month of almost entirely sexual assignments. There really was a god.
“Your partners for the game will be here at any moment. Before you are introduced, I have a list of instructions that will need to be followed. Then the competition can begin.”
Mason smiled. “Then the game will begin tonight?”
My uncle frowned. “This isn’t a game, son. It’s a competition, yes, with the perks of two beautiful women added, but it’s serious. The end result will dictate who takes over the company I’ve spent my life building.”
“Yes, sir.” Mason nodded, and his expression took on a more serious look.
Uncle glanced at me, and I guessed he could tell I was ready. “Rule number one, it is forbidden to leave the chalet grounds without permission during the game, if you do so you will be dis
qualified. Also, you will be given clothing and won’t wear your own, and you will have to hand over your phones.”
I ached to stand and argue Harvey’s logic. I had a certain image I liked to portray. I adjusted my tie and hoped suits were in the new wardrobe. I’d been planning on making an excuse to go check on my business at some point, and my heart dropped as I realized I was truly stuck here for a month with no outside communication. With Mason. And a couple of bimbos.
“You will accept the woman I…” Uncle Harvey continued, “chose for you without complaint and agree to being filmed at all times, except in the bedroom. For sexual challenges, a rating card will be provided for the women that will weigh heavily in who wins that round. I assure you the strictest privacy is in place.”
I had to try. “About the cell phones—”
“Ahh, yes, I almost forgot. You are only allowed to use cell phones for the first week. After that, phones as well as computers, tablets, and other devices will be confiscated. If there is anything urgent, it will be screened, and the game will be paused to handle the urgent matter. However, barring any emergency, you won’t be allowed to communicate with the outside world at all until the competition has concluded.”
I could feel sweat gathering on my brow and beneath the back of my shirt. As excited about the entire arrangement as I was — a month of possibly unlimited secret pleasures with a woman as ready as I was to play — I was expected to hand over everything that made me who I was. It put me in a vulnerable position. But I couldn’t forfeit the game. The prize was so coveted. I needed to win at all costs.
“I don’t think either of you have been to Céleste Chalet since you were kids,” Uncle commented, bringing home the point that Mason and I had been at war for a very long time. “I bought the place because I loved skiing and making a profit on a passion was always a great sideline. We have closed the resort so we can host this little competition and will reopen after Valentine’s Day. I wanted my family to enjoy the chalet, which never really happened. Now, I’m forcing your enjoyment. One doesn’t live forever, I’d like to see it used as it was intended at least once.” He laughed, knowing something we obviously didn’t.
