Auctioned to Him 2: His for a Week

by Charlotte Byrd

“Ask me what?”

  “Ask you to give me another chance. Even though you deserve so much more. So much better.”

  “I do deserve better. You were such a dick. You had no right to fire me. I was just trying to help you.”

  “I know that now. I know.” He hangs his head. “Just please, please, give me another chance. I want to be with you. I need you.”

  “I don’t want to be with you just because you need me, Gatsby. I can come back to work, but…”

  “No buts, please.” He puts his finger to my lips. A surge of electricity rushes through my body. His touch does crazy things to me. I want to push him away, but I don’t.

  “What I’m trying to say is that…I love you.”

  The words hang in the air in between us. I’m not sure if I heard him right. Gatsby looks me straight in the eyes and repeats himself.

  “I love you, Annabelle,” he says. “I’ve loved you since the moment I first laid my eyes on you. I love you. I just could never say it before.”

  These are the last words I expected to hear from him.

  “I love you, too,” I whisper. I’ve wanted to say that to him for so long. I just didn’t have the courage or the strength. I wasn’t sure if he would say it back to me.

  “You do?” He grabs the back of my neck and pulls me close to him.

  Our lips touch, and sparks of electricity course through my body.

  “I love you,” he whispers, pulling my head toward his.

  “I love you, too,” I whisper and bury my hands in his hair.

  “I love you,” we say together and fall back onto the bed.

  * * *

  THE END

  Kiss, but Don’t Tell

  When April needs a date to her ex-fiance's engagement party, her friend sets her up with an escort. No sex. No strings attached. Just a hot guy who is paid to adore her for a weekend. What could go wrong?

  Grant is a multi-millionaire and an escort. He doesn't do this for money. He can get any woman he wants, but he likes a challenge. You wouldn't think it, but women who pay for sex are so much more of a challenge. They aren’t paying just for sex, they're paying for an experience. They want to be wowed and adored and pleased. And Grant specializes in all that.

  At first, Grant thinks that April is just like the rest of his clients: curvy girl on the wrong side of 20 in desperate need of a mouth-watering date. But April doesn't want sex and she doesn't seem to want him at all. And Grant finds himself falling for someone for the first time ever…

  **WARNING: Steamy scenes, NO Cheating, HEA!

  1

  Grant

  Rebecca always strutted after our little visits, walking like a proud cat sashaying and swaying. Pushing her hair behind her ear, I gave one last kiss good bye. It smelled just like the lilac in her bed sheets and coconut. Her skin was warm from the sun and made the whites of her eyes pop. She was incredible for her age.

  “That tan is doing wonders for you.” I told her, unlocking my Porsche as we stepped out of the French doors and down the slate stairs to the driveway.

  “Let’s hope that it takes more years off than it puts on later,” she joked, showing her barely visible crow’s feet as she smiled. “I can’t turn 29 for a 15th year in a row.” Rebecca combed the other side of her thick black hair behind her ears. She led me down the steps by her elbow and then slapped me playfully on the butt as I left, almost as if to say “good game”. Her spirit was so young and playful, it made me sad that she was only a client sometimes. Then I would remember how insane she went during her divorce. It’s better this way.

  “Looks like you’ll have to be 30 then. Lots of gorgeous women hit their stride in their thirties.” I slid into the front seat of my car and began driving over the long stretch of driveway that separated her mansion from the road. I made a mental note to pick up a few flowers for her birthday next time I saw her. I’m sure that I would either make it to the guest list for her party or I would be the after party she had planned for herself.

  My phone dinged that it received the funds from Rebecca, my favorite client. Her husband didn’t know the great thing that he gave up. She was always a little more fun in bed than the others and she was more than willing to give me high praise. If I had a dollar for every time she told me I was better in bed than her ex I could probably buy a second car, maybe even buy a vacation home in the Virgin Islands.

  The 30-minute drive from her house in Henderson to mine in Vegas was nice for reflecting. The sun setting in the sky didn’t compare to the one that we saw over the weekend. I would have to travel back again.

  I often think about how I’ll avoid my parent’s watchful eye, thinking up excuses for missing calls or texts. I always had to play just out of reach while still talking to them every so often. It’s not that I don’t like them, I just don’t care for the way they yak in my ear, always nagging about me changing the way I work, having to listen to the “why can’t you be more like your brothers” and other blah blah blahs. They cry that I should become a day trader again and put my degree to use, but I have enough experience in that to make money off the other day traders in my hedge fund. I always tell them that they shouldn’t have raised me in Vegas if they wanted a respectable son. They don’t think it’s funny, and maybe it isn’t meant to be. Maybe they should just appreciate the irony. They saw more problems with my life than there was. I was just happy to be happy.

  Unluckily for me, they got three other sons that can put me to shame. I am always being measured up to them, and if I have to hear one more time about their accomplishments I will flip my lid. You think that they would have given up nagging me after high school, and then after that wasn’t good enough maybe after college. I considered going to grad school to see if that was the finish line of the complaints. Finally I have decided that parents never stop parenting and they will always be somewhat disappointed in who I am, or rather who I am not: a business tycoon.

  I don’t do what I do for money, anyway. I do it for me. I was never really one to stick with interests in high school and college. I dabbled in almost everything and made a lot of friends on the way in each club, but I never really got hooked on anything in particular. You do things, practice, get good at them, and then what? Nothing. Well, there is one thing that it is nice to be good at. That’s why I like being an escort. Each woman is different. Some like it rougher, and then there are some that need to be treated like tissue paper. Each client is different and I am very proud with how successful I am.

  I can see my tan in the mirror from our getaway weekend to Mexico. Spending two days there put 20 grand in my bank account. Not half bad if you ask me. I keep my prices high to sort the pearls from the clams in this business. If I charged anything less than what I currently charge I could get mange or Black Death or cooties or something. It costs a pretty penny to be with me for a very good reason. It assured both skill and quality to my clients and reassured me that I was getting the very same back.

  Pulling past the gate, I know there is only 5 minutes until I am officially home. They put so many speed bumps in a gated community to discourage people from driving around. It works pretty well, most of my neighbors have switched to bikes so their cars don’t have to learn Braille in order to commute to work. There are certain things that you have to deal with when living in a ritzy part of the town of sin.

  Really the longest part of getting home is the ride in the elevator up to my room. The penthouse is a billion floors up and there are several stops on the way between floors. People always forget this part in the movies, the downside with the glam. I have met a few clients in the past by hanging around the casino in the bottom. Since it’s my dad’s, all I have to do is get them a couple drinks on the house, slide my card over, and saying my line: “Your first win was getting this card, the next will be in that casino, and your third will be using my card with your new funds.” It’s cheesy and dumb, but that’s Vegas. This is the light and the life that people come for.

  Most of the pe
ople that work in this building feel one of two ways about me, they hate me or they love me. Some of that comes with me being the boss of them, the other part of their feelings has to do with me being the boss of me. No one likes playing by the rules, not even me. Fortunately for me, I’m not the one that has to worry about a pay check here.

  The life of the bachelor was very different from what TV shows had made me believe. The day time can be fun, especially with my job, but the nights were very lonely. I could come home with women from bars, but I hadn’t had a meaningful female companion in a long long time. Even just a friend would be nice, but I was surrounded by males. I think that since girls see that I’m sort of a smooth talker they think they can’t trust me. They see this pretty boy exterior, but I really have more going on than just looks. I want to know someone. I want to feel like a kid again. Being an adult could be very boring. I’ll save up all my escort money for a time machine.

  2

  Grant

  Here is where I decompress. After all the stressors of the world and people, I can come here and be sure that all things are the same, that I am safe from my parents, and that I can listen to my music as loud as I want, which is exactly what I did.

  I flip on the stereo system as I walk in and grab a water bottle. This is part of the routine. In order to keep this body in shape staying hydrated is a must. You lose a lot of body fluids in the escort business, and that is the most vital part of being a human.

  So checking my email regularly is a must in this business of service. “It’s a business doing pleasure” is my motto. I take this as seriously as a doctor takes heart or brain surgery. I have to be thorough and efficient in order to keep my “I’m doing this for me” mindset. That’s what my ego rides on, which is dumb and vain but sometimes it pays to be vain.

  My first email is from my friend Alex and it’s marked urgent, which sends up two red flags. The first one is “Why is my gay friend using my escort email to contact me?” and “Why is it urgent?” I have a very open mind set, but not enough to let my good buddy pay for a night with me.

  * * *

  Grant,

  You’ve gotta help me. I’ve got a lonely girl who needs you as an accessory to her at her ex-fiance’s engagement party. It’s Travis’ roommate, and it would be doing me a solid.

  Alex

  * * *

  It was sent one minute ago, so I decided to text him back that I would take the deal, I just needed to know how long I would be needed for. I met Alex in a very similar way to this. It isn’t uncommon for young women to need a man to be a date for them. A large price to pay to rub it in the face of an ex, I guess. Alex was best friends with a girl who needed a date to a charity dinner, and we sat at a table together. There were many things he and I agreed on, and from there it has blossomed into a close and trusting relationship. He goes to the gym just as much as me and is around woman the same amount of time. If I were gay, maybe he would be the perfect guy for me, but for now Travis is filling those shoes.

  Travis is also very cool. He is similar to both me and Alex, so I give him my approval. I haven’t met him many times, since him and Alex aren’t technically dating, they are just seeing each other with plenty of sex peppered in between interactions. I imagine they have a similar sex life to me, just with a lot less contract signing and credit cards scanning.

  “A few days, not sure exactly how many. And her family will be there too.”

  “That all sounds fine.”

  “The only thing is, she is going through sort of a tough time, some kind of accident or something, I’m not sure what, I can get more details from Travis. He says that she won’t be able to pay your usual rates.”

  I sighed and paused. I would do anything for a friend, especially one as good as Alex. The money isn’t the priority for this job, but it’s what keeps my standards high and makes sure that my clients have the same standards. “How cheap are we talking?”

  “Her name is April. She thinks it costs $200 per night.”

  “Is she renting an escort or a birthday party clown?” For $200 dollars you could get a lot of things, a quality companion was not one of those things but many sexual diseases might be.

  “I know, I know. I’ll owe you big time. I wouldn’t ask if this didn’t sound like such a desperate situation.”

  “Okay, yeah, you owe me one. And this one can be free. $200 a night doesn’t even cover my utilities here.”

  “She won’t do it if she isn’t paying. You could be homeless for all she knows. If she has to pay she thinks you’re a decent guy.” This was starting to shake up my night quite a bit. Maybe I could put this charity work on my profile.

  “Could I talk to Travis about this?” Alex forwarded his number to me and I called.

  “Hello?”

  “So what kind of girl are we talking about? Is she 60 and riddled with herpes?” Travis snorted after I said this and excused himself.

  “Sorry, I have to leave this room really quick. She was right next to me.” Travis sounded a lot like Alex did but with a deeper voice and a lot less inflection. “April is a nice person. She’s been in some trouble recently.”

  “It sounds pretty bad.”

  “You have no idea. Emotionally, physically, spiritually she is hardly the same girl I knew before the accident.”

  “What accident?”

  “Minor car accident.” He coughed out quickly. “Don’t worry about that, we can get to that later. Point is, I’m the one paying rent most months, it’s that kind of bad. She really is a great girl, but she just can’t show up to her ex-fiancés’ new fiancées’ dinner alone and bent out of shape.”

  I sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I understand that.” I’m no stranger to marriages. After all, this is Vegas. Marriages and remarriages happen all the time. I once had a client who had 5 different husbands below her belt. This kind of stuff isn’t new to me. My parents even were both remarried, and happily so. I’m happy for them. I’m just still getting used to a new set of parents to nag at me.

  “You can keep her money to cover her rent, think of it as charity or a gift from me on Alex. $200 really isn’t enough to care about.”

  “Yeah, I know. I don’t think she knows too much about the whole escort system.” He snorted. “You guys can carve out more of the details later, I have to get back in there and lend a shoulder for crying.”

  “Alright, let me know if I can help in anyway.”

  “Thanks, Grant. I owe you one.”

  I clicked end and went back to staring idly out my window. The lights below flickered and blinked. It could make a seizure prone person paralyzed for life. I love this grimy, beautiful city. New tourists and people every day, different sketchy activities happening every minute, and the fresh smell of sweaty old gamblers and cheap hooker perfume was enough to make me feel at home.

  I was always up for new adventures and challenges. This event sounded like it was going to be a fairly mundane and tame way to experience a wedding that I have no bias for. Maybe it would be healthy to spend a lot of time with a woman who isn’t over a relationship. I could see what it’s like to be attached to someone. I’ve never experienced this personally, but it looks wonderful from the outside. Well, until you get to the bad parts.

  I’ve never had a healthy long relationship, and I’ve never been around one either. My parents were married for a long time, but it definitely wasn’t healthy. They were always fighting and had nothing in common. I often wonder what actually brought them together in the first place, and I’m sure they wondered that too.

  My brothers and I were all not surprised by the divorce. Several times they had separated and gotten back together, but it was final about the 5th time. They would cheat on each other and go weeks without seeing the other one. And then my mom met Mike and my dad met Tammy, and the rest was history. Not always happy history.

  Tammy is pretty young for my dad. She’s 32 to be exact. Dad has a type, and it isn’t one in his generation. And now they’re expec
ting a kid. When my mom heard, she practically moved into her plastic surgeon’s office. She started buying vats of anti-aging cream and filled up her Botox punch card. And the fact that Mike is more than twenty years older than Mom also doesn’t help matters.

  Despite appearances, my dad isn’t ecstatic about the new baby either. He isn’t exactly young. Tammy could very well be the result of his midlife crisis, but that has come with some collateral damage.

  I don’t mean to be bitter. I do love my family as individuals, but growing up in a house with all of them wasn’t a party. And it wasn’t exactly easy. People assume that wealthy people have the most luck and are always having a great time just because we have nice clothes, nice cars and nice houses. But we’re people. And people have problems. Even rich people.

  Maybe that’s what appeals to me about older women. They are straight up with you. They have had enough of men fucking around on them, so they aren’t about to let some young prick tell them what to do. Things are simple with them. They say and do what they mean. No games. No bullshit.

  Normally when I get back I would watch TV and catch up on the news, but I’m back late enough that all I can do is work out, shower and go to bed. Another one of the requirements for charging such a high price is being able to back it up with quality goods. I was always a little athletic but I had to make a very complicated work out and eating regimen to get in top shape for this business. I always made fun of those people that would eat a leaf of lettuce and then run ten miles a day, but sadly I have become one of them. I could conquer the high school prom queen at a non-eating contest.

  I don’t condone eating disorders. I think that they are horrible on a body and are a cry for help from anyone, but being disciplined is something different. If I weren’t sculpted I wouldn’t get the revenue and amount of return clients that I do. I don’t like this side of me, but it’s a side I have had to be honest about. No one is perfect, even if they try very hard to look it.