Anything for Money: A Sex-For-Hire College Romance

by Lindsey Bedder

  “Jack… ” I gasped. I had so many things I wanted to say to him.

  I convulsed. I was coming. Anton hugged my rock-hard waist and locked his mouth against my pussy. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t think. My thoughts just stopped, like a blown fuse in my brain. I kicked my legs but didn’t dislodge Anton’s fabulous tongue. I was juicy and hot in his mouth, and I wanted his muscular arms to squeeze me like they could empty me out.

  “You’re so beautiful,” RJ murmured.

  Sensation pulsed through me. Anton was a fucking genius-expert-artist… orgasms were supposed to end, weren’t they? Not this one. Anton’s strong jaw worked rhythmically at my gash, but his tongue and lips were gentle against my hard nub of pleasure.

  The orgasm surged again. I held onto that poor man and bucked against his mouth. I don’t know how long it lasted. It felt like an hour before the room stopped spinning. Afterwards, I had to knit my mind back together from fragile threads.

  I opened my eyes.

  I had two men bracing me on the couch. Anton had a hand on each thigh, holding my legs open. RJ had his hands on my chest, and my arms entwined with his.

  Suddenly, Anton’s mouth was ticklish to the point of being painful.

  “Stop!”

  Anton grinned at me, resting his wet chin on my mound. I wanted that to be my new Facebook profile photo. “So you can still talk? You stopped making sense halfway through.”

  “You came like you would never stop.” RJ brushed the hair off my forehead. “I thought it was a seizure.”

  “Nah,” Anton smirked. “That always happens when I go down on girls.”

  “Women,” I corrected automatically.

  He kissed my slit again, taking his time about it. “They start as girls. They’re women by the time I finish.”

  RJ and Anton traded high fives, and I had to endure a lot of male snickering. I checked out for that, just breathing and glorying in being alive.

  I checked back in again when I felt something tickle my crotch. Anton had a black sharpie pen. He was writing on me! Right by my sex. His thumb played across whatever it was, making sure it was dry.

  “What’s that?” I said, kitten-weak.

  “Just signing my name.”

  I lurched upright. “You didn’t!”

  Anton stood, surveying me like a project he was particularly proud of. I wanted to curl up in shame but my muscles wouldn’t comply.

  “This is embarrassing,” I giggled.

  “Oh, you’re worried about being embarrassed?” Anton’s smile turned wicked. He spread his arms declaimed, in a stage actor’s voice, “You, Rebecca, have an amazing pussy. Your pussy made love to my tongue.”

  “Oh, jeez.” I covered my face.

  “Your pussy was whispering your secrets to me, Rebecca. Your pussy looks like a million dollar painting of a lily. Your pussy tastes like green gatorade. Your pussy speaks three languages.”

  “What the fuck, Anton?” It came out as a dolphin squeak.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Rebecca,” he teased. “Are you self-conscious? Because your pussy is a huge extrovert.”

  “Arrrghhh… ”

  “You must never be embarrassed by your amazing pussy. It’s the pussy of a Botticelli. Your pussy is a pussy for the ages. If you were single, I’d set up a recurring appointment to eat you out every Sunday. I will never forget what you look like at this moment. Now, I have to get back to my room. I have something very urgent to take care of.”

  He fist-bumped RJ, and patted my vagina one more time. I was mortified.

  “Keep that open till I’m gone,” he said. As if I had the strength to close my legs…

  Finally he was gone. Anton. I still couldn’t believe it.

  Collapse

  Ripper Jack went to the door.

  “No more boys!” I wailed. “I’m exhausted and my reputation is in the dumps!”

  RJ made a show of opening the door and saying, “Sorry guys! Get back on the bus.”

  “Very funny.”

  “But seriously, there’s nobody else. I thought three guys would be enough today.” RJ was talking like we were just buddies again. “Did we know Anton had that much personality? He signed your vag like a work of art. I’m looking at it right now. ‘ntøn.’ Cool, huh? Do you like it? The personal touch?”

  I shook my head in denial. Of course I liked that Anton had signed me, but I was mortified by the fact that I liked it. What an odd thing to have to learn about myself.

  “You did great, Rebecca.”

  “I did great? I didn’t do that much… ”

  “Are you kidding? You kissed the lips off Seth. You sucked Borden’s cock like an expert, and then took it on the face. Then you ate his cum. All of it. I mean, you ate a ton of jizz—”

  “Okay.”

  “And then you face-fucked Anton, and your pussy made a fan all its own.” RJ finally stopped talking, but he kept smiling. He seemed incredibly satisfied, almost as satisfied as me.

  Then silence landed between us.

  I really had no idea what to say next. I was a jumble of satisfied lust and unanswered questions. RJ’s smile faded, as mine faded while I looked up at him. I belatedly remembered I was spread-eagled on his couch, and naked except for a cheerleader skirt that was presently behaving more like a belt. The only man I’d trust with my life was on the verge of turning more distant than ever. I couldn’t simply snap my legs together, it would be strange, even untrusting. I just relaxed into his examination and tried to think of something to say.

  Oh, no. No-no-no! I saw it happen.

  I saw him turn away from me. Not in the world, not as a movement. It was in his face. He detached his affection. One second, he was smiling like I was his pride and joy. The next, something crossed his face. A shadow. A pain. Whatever it was, the revenant thought turned his face sad, then guilty, and then blank. When his transformation was complete, he was remote again, and back in control. It would be giving me no more secrets today.

  “Oh, Jack,” I said.

  “That went longer than I thought!” He said, with false heartiness. “I got carried away almost as much as you did!”

  I obliged him with a smile, but it was as fake as he was. I closed my legs and pulled my skirt down to cover myself. I found my rip-off shirt and pulled it on. My panties had left in Anton’s pocket, a kind of trophy I supposed, and I couldn’t fault his taste. I was dressed again, but nowhere nearly as covered as I wanted to be, just then.

  I really just wanted to cry. I hated myself, how I wouldn’t simply tell RJ what I wanted. How I couldn’t just come out and say I wanted him. But his face, and how it shifted from affection to distance… the guard that went up, and the fact he was guarding against me… it shook me to the core. I knew RJ wouldn’t want to hear how I’d attached to him.

  “I have a class I have to run to,” RJ said, his hand on the doorknob.

  I flared with annoyance. You lying jerk, I know all your classes.

  Outwardly, I said, “Thanks, Jack. For that adventure. It was… surreal.”

  He tried to smile. It looked painful. “You liked those boys, huh?”

  “Oh, yes,” I drawled. I sounded a little deviant even to myself. “I mean, yeah.”

  RJ jingled his keys for a moment. “So, did you make a decision? Do you know which one you liked best? Did you pick one to, you know, date?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  For a full ten seconds he didn’t move. Ten seconds is a lifetime to lock eyes with the boy you love. I knew RJ like we were married, and I knew he treated himself like he was strong. He was preparing himself for whatever came next. I would tell him which guy I wanted, and he would not allow anything to show on his face. He would not show his hurt. He’d be as blank as he was now. He wouldn’t share a thing.

  “Let me guess,” he said, falsely hearty. “Anton, by a mile?”

  I shook my head. I caught his eyes and refused to drop them. I would not tear up for this. I wanted to make him suffer. I wante
d him to love me. I wanted to break him.

  “Borden,” I said.

  “Ah.”

  “I want Borden as my boyfriend,” I said. “Will you set us up again? Will you help us fall in love?”

  He turned away from me, and spoke to the door. “Sure. Of course I’ll help, babe. I’m your man.”

  Then he was through the door. It slammed behind him.

  “You’re my man,” I whispered.

  Part IV

  Discovering Marylou

  Borden Daze

  First, I quietly let myself out of Ripper Jack’s house.

  Then, I quietly let myself out of Ripper Jack’s life.

  I spent a day stewing in the dorm and fell asleep early, because homework, reading, sewing, and even Netflix seemed too difficult and far-away to even consider.

  Then I had a day of classes, where I didn’t add to the discussions or otherwise fascinate my professors. Then a quiet night, ignoring the knocks on my dorm room door.

  By day three, I still wasn’t hungry, so I decided I was on a cleanse. I’d eat nothing but the nourishing packets of mayonnaise and mustard I found in the back of a desk drawer, and drink nothing but the mini-bottles of tequila I found behind the bathroom vent, hidden by the room’s prior tenants.

  A week passed, colorless and quiet. When you invest three or more hours a day in a guy, and then you stop, you have too much time to think. Boy, do I hate thinking. The thoughts circle and bite you, like in a Mongoose vs Cobra video on Youtube. You just want to snake, snake, snake along, and suddenly you’re hemmed in by your hereditary enemy, thoughtfulness. It’s bad news from then on. RJ’s scent on his sweaty mechanic shirt floated in my memory, just out of reach. His sly grin, circling and probing. I found it constrictive, like one of those interminable transatlantic flights where you’re wedged against the window next to a chatty businessman, and first he says you remind him of his daughter, but then a few drinks later you remind him of a movie star and he makes a pass at you.

  I surprised even myself. I was done with excellence. I was done standing out. I was done being the perfect model. Done with going 100% every day. I dropped to 10%, wore a simple t-shirt and miniskirt to class, and faded so far out of view that one guy asked me if I’d seen Rebecca around, she hadn’t been on campus lately. He didn’t recognize me at all. I’d been living so far off the average coed lifestyle that if I didn’t do make-up, I was undercover.

  And that was fine by me.

  I even dodged the regular flock of overattentive boys who lurked in the lobby when I walked through. I swear they have a tracking device planted on me. Three months of being RJ’s edgy, sexy model, and every guy on campus seemed to know my name. They all assumed I knew them right back. They treated me like that ex-girlfriend who’d been great in bed, with whom they were still on talking terms. Assumed intimacy.

  Being the center of attention was suddenly so… wearing. I used to eat it up, get an energy boost off each guy, like some kind of attention junky or libido vampire who could only thrive when she was desired. Now I preferred to be under-regarded, even if it left me limp, hypoglycemic, and sleeping twelve hours a day.

  In addition, I ignored all of RJ’s calls.

  Which would have meant something if he’d actually called.

  A knock on my door.

  I didn’t answer.

  “Rebecca, it’s me,” said Borden through the door. “I’m your new boyfriend.”

  I smiled faintly, my first smile in days.

  “I know you’re in there.”

  “How do you know?” I called back. “Aside from me answering, that is?”

  “There are fifty guys jerking off outside your door, waiting for you to come out.”

  Was that supposed to be funny? I hoped so, because I almost giggled.

  “Borden, what if they just like my door?”

  He paused for a moment, maybe thinking. “I don’t think they swing that way. Get it? Swing? Door?”

  Fuck that was bad, Good Rebecca thought. Now I have to let him in.

  Sad Rebecca bowed and let Good Rebecca take over.

  I opened the door but kept it blocked. “If you keep being funny, I might finally start menstruating again.”

  “I, uh, appreciate your creepy sense of humor?” He looked me up and down. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “Bitten by a mongoose.”

  “No, you look terrible. Should I call RJ?”

  “Fuck, Borden, I’m just being a slob. Can’t a girl live on mayonnaise and tequila, and not shower for a week, without someone freaking out and calling a photographer?”

  “I just meant… maybe RJ has something you need?”

  At first I thought that was in poor taste. However, Borden was so serious I had to parse through it. I was thinking again, point against Borden, and I realized what he meant.

  “Are you saying… because RJ… Fuck, Borden, I’m not in withdrawal from drugs.”

  “You’re not trying to go clean?”

  “Fuck no,” I snapped. “I’d never go clean.”

  He cocked his head, so earnest. “See how you’re deflecting everything with a joke?”

  “I’m not on drugs, and RJ isn’t a drug dealer. Next topic?”

  “How am I doing so far as your new boyfriend?”

  I couldn’t help but grin, even if I hadn’t brushed my teeth since we’d last met. “What, we’re done with me already, and now we’re talking about you?”

  He smiled back. For a few seconds, we just smiled at each other.

  “I don’t know how you do it,” Borden said. “You’re so goddamn… beautiful.”

  “That’s better.” I finally let him in.

  He edged through the door and looked around, checking for who-knew-what. Used syringes sticking out of the carpet, maybe. The room wasn’t messy enough for his level of concern.

  “Never comment on a lady’s boudoir,” I warned.

  He glanced at my ass. “I would never. Your room, however, is a travesty.”

  Then, he started cleaning.

  “The fuck, Borden?”

  “I realize this makes me seem more like a butler than a boyfriend,” he said. “Think of me being sexier. Just till I get this squared away.”

  “I’ll think of you blindfolded with your hands tied behind your back.”

  “Oh, yeah, ha-ha. Our first date.”

  He kicked a week of laundry into a pile, then sorted it for the washer.

  “Am I really such a mess?” It was half rhetorical. Seeing another human in my den made me realize how little like myself I was behaving.

  “Oh, no,” he said quickly. “Heck no.”

  He found my stash of the only unused and untouched items in the room, my bath towels, and grabbed one. He whipped it around my torso, because as it turned out, I was stark naked.

  “Let’s go.”

  He guided me into the hall toward the showers. I went without objection, curious how this was developing. Then I was curious about why I was curious. Another forgotten emotion, flooding back after eight days on hiatus.

  I tried something. “You know you have me in the hallway wearing nothing but a towel? It could fall off me at any second.”

  “Yeah, sorry. I should’ve found your bathrobe. I was in emergency mode.” He steered me to the door to the Ladies. “Don’t worry, it’s three in the morning, nobody will see you.”

  Some part of me disapproved of that, on principle. “Borden, why the hell did you come over at three in the morning?”

  He looked uncomfortable. “That’s when Ripper Jack gave me the news. And also, there was no activity on your Snapchat channel since this morning. I was worried.”

  Snapchat? Sheesh. No privacy at all!

  Sooo many men obsessing over me.

  “What was on the channel this morning?” I was honestly curious.

  “It was the one where you were at the front desk, asking for packets of mayonnaise.”

  I let that wash over me and s
it for a while. “Did I look good, at least?”

  “Yeah, you did, against all odds. A lot of girls on campus have started eating mayonnaise as a snack. Guys are collecting mayonnaise packets in case they meet you. Now, get in there and clean up.”

  “Borden, no offense, but you weren’t this assertive during our speed-date. When did you get so interesting?”

  Because, I added to myself, the last thing I wanted to discover is that you are interesting.

  “I like to heat up my girls slowly,” he grinned. “Like a frog in a saucepan when you bring the water to a boil. You see, the frog, or as I like to call them, ‘girls,’ don’t know what’s happening. You turn up the heat and they cook, or ‘agree,’ until they die, or ‘date me.’ It’s a—”

  “I’m going, I’m going.”

  I took a forty minute shower. I used all the hot water in the dormitory’s tiny boiler, turning the heat up slowly while I cooked like a frog. I hoped that image wouldn’t stick with me long. In the hallway back to my room, I let the towel fall loose, just to see. Yeah, I got my usual buzz, but nobody was around to Snapchat it for me.

  When I got back, I found Borden had made my bed. More crucially, he’d ordered a four-cheese pizza, and now it waited on my desk. It was real food, and I locked onto it with preternatural awareness. The pizza box almost hummed, it was so attractive. It smelled delicious and transgressive, like an Italian nun in fishnets, who was covered in sauce and cheese.

  I forced a smile. Interesting, considerate, and a compulsive cleaner. Fuck you, Borden. Fuck you and your perfection.

  He even turned his back while I dressed. He didn’t turn toward the mirror on the door, or toward my reflection in the window. In fact, he closed the curtains to give me privacy, and I hadn’t known they could do that.