by Linnea May
I’ll have to remember that.
I cast the thought aside. There’s no point in making notes for her instructions if she’s not even up to the task.
“What can I order for you?” I ask, waving for a waiter.
“Um,” she says, her eyes hurrying across the table to see what I’m having.
“Coffee?” she ponders.
I smile at her. Fuck, she’s cute.
“Whatever you like, Miss Brown,” I tell her. “Coffee, latte, tea, a mimosa, or champagne, maybe?”
Her eyes flicker at that last suggestion. I knew she’s a champagne girl, but she’s too modest to admit it.
“Uh… I think it’s too early for a drink,” she says, but I’m confident she doesn‘t mean it.
I wink at her and order us two mimosas and some water, which she regards with a grateful smile.
She’s nervous as hell, but trying very hard to hide it from me. When our glasses arrive and she reaches for hers, I can see her slim fingers vibrating with tension. We clink glasses, and I watch as she carefully sips from hers, visibly calming down after the first drink.
“Better?” I ask.
She casts me a bewildered look, and nods.
I’ve never been lost for the right words, but right now I wish I had prepared something to say. It never occurred to me that this would be hard. After all, I know what I want from her, and I’m used to getting what I want.
But this is delicate business, and I have no way of knowing how she’s going to react.
Beating around the bush is not my style, so I decide to be straightforward with her.
Her eyelashes are fluttering nervously as she tries not to break eye contact with me.
“As I’ve mentioned before, I have a proposal for you,” I begin. “A way for you to make a lot of money.”
Her eyes narrow as she casts me a suspicious look. “A lot of money?”
I nod. “More than you’ll ever make with that waitressing job. In fact, it will enable you to stop doing that.”
She furrows her eyebrows.
“Is that not what you want?” I ask her. “Do you enjoy that job?”
Laura lets out an exasperated gasp.
“Yeah, right,” she says, rolling her eyes. “No, I’m just curious what kind of job you’re proposing? You don’t even know anything about my qualifications.”
She crosses her arms in front of her chest. It’s an attempt to appear sassy and confident, but I can see her shaking under her self-assured posture.
“Oh, I’m sure your qualifications are just fine,” I say, locking her down with my eyes.
“Well, then…,” she utters, visibly ruffled by my gaze. “What would I have to do?”
We exchange a silent look, feeling each other out without saying a word or touching one another. She’s a smart girl. I know she senses where this is going, but she needs me to say it out loud.
“Submit to me,” I say, my voice low and heavy with meaning. “Be mine for one night.”
Chapter 7
Laura
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. He’s kidding, right?
“Submit to you?” I ask incredulously. “What the hell do you mean by that?”
I have a pretty clear idea of what he’s talking about, but I’m not ready to admit it. The shock is still too new, too deep, for me to even consider having a normal conversation with him yet.
He reaches for his glass and nonchalantly takes another drink from it, seeming to ignore my outburst in response to his ridiculous offer. I’m boiling with indignation and frustration, and I can only imagine the expression on my face, but here he is, taking his sweet time to give me an explanation.
“It means that I want you,” he shrugs simply. “I want you to give yourself to me. For one night, just one night.”
“You want to fuck me,” I breathe, my voice trembling with hurt, and I’m sure tears are starting to form considering how my eyes feel like they’re burning.
He cocks his head to the side.
“That would be part of it,” he nods calmly. “But not all of it. A simple fuck is not what I want – need – from you.”
A tight knot forms in my chest, making it harder to breathe. I’m so appalled at his offer, so hurt and humiliated. Is that how little he thinks of me? That I’m so dead poor and desperate that I’d be willing to sell myself to him?
“I’m not a prostitute,” I enlighten him.
His eyes are set on mine, an earnest expression gracing his handsome face. He’s wearing a black suit and tie, appearing even more dressed up than he did on the evening of the event. Did he have another appointment before me, or is it just proper etiquette to dress up when negotiating with a whore?
“I know that,” he says. “And I’m sorry if I insulted you.”
He gives me a moment to react to his apology, but I don’t acknowledge it.
“But I still think you’re intrigued by my proposal,” he adds. “In many ways.”
I shake my head. “I don’t understand why you’d think that.”
His smile suggests that he’s not taking my refusal seriously.
“Why don’t you just ask me out like a normal person? Why this… proposal?”
He shrugs.
“Because that’s how it has to be,” he says matter-of-factly. “Miss Brown, I’ll be honest with you. I’m not looking to date you. This is not about roses, fancy dinners, and holding hands. It’s about one night. One night during which you’ll submit yourself to me, entirely and completely, and be mine.”
He pauses and leans forward then, reaching for my hand. I flinch, but don’t move my hand away when he begins intertwining his fingers with mine. His touch is warm and soothing, but electrifying at the same time. I want to pull away from him, but I can’t.
What does this man want from me?
“I’m sure you must have a lot of questions,” he says. “I’m ready to answer every single one of them, but you’ll have to speak to me.”
I glare at him. “What makes you think I’m even considering this?”
He shrugs, completely unfazed by my irritation.
“You’re still here,” he simply says, casting me a knowing look before he pulls his hand away from mine.
I catch myself involuntarily seeking to follow his hand when he moves away.
He notices my reaction, too.
Damn.
“How much money are we talking?” I dare to ask, still not looking at him.
He lets a few moments pass by without responding. Instead, he watches me, observing, waiting. I could be wrong, but he appears to be somewhat disappointed.
He opens the folder that’s before him on the table, and pulls out a piece of paper. He slides it over for me to see.
“The financial portion of the proposal,” he says, nodding toward the piece of paper in my hands. “All of it.”
I inspect the paper he’s given me. It’s an agreement listing a bunch of dollar values, each linked to certain conditions and bonuses. He even includes value-added tax, as if this was a legal business contract. I almost want to laugh, but the number that’s written on the bottom of the page steals my breath.
“Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars?!” I exclaim, lifting my eyes to meet his gaze. “Are you kidding me? Is this some kind of sick joke? If so, it’s not funny at all –”
“I’m dead serious,” he says, not blinking.
We exchange a silent stare for a few moments, and then he removes the piece of paper from my hand.
“Two hundred and fifty thousand up front,” he says, giving voice to something that was listed on the paper. “If you agree. It would be paid to you the moment you sign the contract, before anything else even happens.”
He pauses, before he adss: “Plus bonuses for anal, bare–”
“Yeah, I can see that,” I interrupt him.
I’m dumbfounded trying to process what’s happening here. There’s a voice inside my head – Layla’s voice – chastising m
e for even hesitating.
“What the hell is there to consider?” I hear her yell. “He’s handsome, he’s sexy. You would have slept with him anyway! And the money! It would be enough to pay off your debt, and the perfect amount to start a new life, even give college another chance. Anything!”
Anything. I could do anything with this money. I would finally be free from the horrible debt that’s been weighing on me for years.
I’d be free.
But this is so wrong. Do I really want to sell my body? Especially since this would be my first time with a man. I’ve told myself over and over that I’d wait for the right one to come along, the special one. And now I’m considering selling my virginity? Isn’t that against everything I stand for?
Then again, what do I stand for? Eternal poverty and struggling, because that’s the noble way to do things? It sure as hell doesn’t feel noble.
But next to these thoughts, I can’t fathom the fact that he’s even making this offer. He doesn’t look like someone who needs to buy women for pleasure. He could have any woman, any time. Why on Earth would he pay out such a substantial amount of money for just one night – and with a woman like me?
“I don’t get it,” I give voice to my doubts. “Why are you doing this? Because let me tell you, there’s no need for it. A man like you could have any woman he wanted.”
He flashes his gorgeous smile, the one that makes my stomach do funny things.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says. “But trust me when I tell you that this is the only way that works for me.”
He pauses, fixating on me as if he wanted to make sure that I’m listening.
“This about more than just sex,” he says. “You have to understand that.”
“I thought this is just for one night,” I say, nodding toward the paper in his hands. “Or, twenty-four hours to be precise. At least that’s what it said.”
He nods.
“Yes, but a lot more than just sex would happen during those twenty-four hours, Miss Brown,” he says. “You’d give yourself to me. Your only reason for existing would be to please me – and receive pleasure in return.”
It’s hard to ignore the jump my heart makes at his words.
Please him...
Why does that turn me on? The tingling in my core is new to me. I shift around in my seat, as if I that would calm my hungry body. This offer will be hard to turn down.
And I have to turn it down, right?
Chapter 8
Ryan
She’s mine, but she doesn’t know it yet. I can see it in every look she gives me, every movement she makes, every breath she takes. Sweet Laura is shifting on her seat, trying to hide her desire behind a wall of suspicion and questions she doesn’t really want the answers to.
She has yet to ask me the real questions plaguing her mind. I know she will say yes, but she can’t let herself go there just yet.
If it’s too hard for her to come up with the right questions, I might have to help her along.
“Have you ever been someone’s submissive?” I ask her.
She blushes at the question, and before she’s able to reply, she has to reach for her glass one more time, taking a large sip of the soothing liquid.
“No,” she says after putting the glass down. For a moment, it seems as if she wants to say more, but whatever it is, she decides to keep it to herself.
“Do you know what it means?” I continue my prompting.
A smile joins the pink flush on her cheeks.
“Yes, I think I do,” she says, barely able to look at me.
“You think you do,” I repeat. “Would you care to elaborate?”
Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head.
“What does it mean to you?” she wants to know instead, turning the tables back to me.
Fair enough. She deserves to know.
“It means that you disregard your will and desires, and agree to let me take care of you, in every way, for as long as you are mine. Some people call it power play, and I think that is quite suitable. You surrender your will to me. You’ll do exactly as I please, exactly as I command you to do, and if you fail to please me, you’ll be punished. And when you do please me, you will be rewarded. It’s that simple, really.”
She bites her lower lip as she listens to my words.
“Rewards,” she repeats. “You mean, the money?”
I shake my head.
“No, the money has nothing to do with it. You are paid for agreeing to spend those twenty-four hours with me and obeying the rules that come along with it.”
“But what if I break the rules?” she asks. “Will that be when I’m punished?”
I shake my head.
“Failing to obey me doesn’t necessarily mean you’re breaking the rules,” I say. “Here, let me show you.”
I open the folder to search for another document, the contract that lays out the framework of my agreements with the girls.
“This has to remain between us,” I warn her, before handing her the paper.
She nods as she takes the contract, curiously scanning through it. It doesn’t state any details about what she can expect to happen between us, but it provides a general outline of the necessary confidentiality, indicates she can’t leave my house, use the internet, or make phone calls while she’s with me, and includes a non-disclosure obligation.
“This is more than just rules,” she says. “This a legal contract.”
“Correct,” I agree. “I expect compliance in every aspect. And if these conditions aren’t met on your end, I have no reason to hold up my end of the deal.”
“You mean you wouldn’t pay me,” she clarifies.
I nod. “We would also run into some legal trouble. Obviously.”
“Sure,” she says, looking so tense and serious that it’s almost comical to me. “And –”
“Miss Brown, have you ever been spanked before?”
My question catches her off guard, and her reaction is priceless. She freezes mid-sentence and stares at me with wide eyes, and the color of her cheeks changes to an even deeper red than before. The green of her eyes strikes me again in this moment. They’re so intense and vibrant, as if an entire forest full of dark fir trees was moving behind them.
“Have you ever felt pain that spiked into pleasure?” I add. “Have you ever been tied down, whipped, and forced to come multiple times in a row?”
Her breathing deepens as she listens to my words. She fixes her cardigan around her ample chest, as if she could hide the heaving motions that tell me everything I need to know about her. No matter if she has any experience with this type of thing or not, she’s a natural submissive. Her eyes flit away, fixating on her glass, her lap, a random spot next to the table, before she’s drawn back to me.
“No,” she breathes. Her voice is merely more than a hoarse whisper.
“Would you like to try all those things?” I encourage. “With me.”
The look she’s giving me lacks clarity. Her eyes are still big and wide, but she’s neither smiling nor frowning, instead exhibiting a neutral expression void of any emotion. Only the flickering of her long eyelashes tells me of the turmoil racing inside her head.
She’s smart, not an impulsive person prone to making rash decisions. She will say yes, but not today. Things will be different with her, I knew that before I even approached her. Buying an experienced whore to play a part she’s familiar with is one thing – paying a girl who’s never done this type of thing before, a girl who won’t fake it – can’t fake it – a girl whose submission will be brutally honest and raw, that’s a whole new story.
I like new.
I like different.
I can only hope that my knowledge of human nature doesn’t betray me with this one. Despite her expressive eyes, I find it harder to read her than anyone else I’ve been with before.
But I appear to be right about one thing.
“I need time,” she says. “To consider.”<
br />
“That’s what I expected,” I tell her.
I open the folder again, producing another, smaller folder to give to her. She takes it with both hands, eyeing it as if I’d just handed her a valuable treasure. In a way, I have.
“It’s all you need to know,” I say. “Everything you’d be agreeing to.”
She nods and places the folder in her lap, her hands resting on top of it while she continues looking at me.
“When do you need to know my decision?” she asks, sitting up straight and tense, waiting for my response.
“If I haven’t heard from you within twenty-four hours, the proposal is off the table and you’ll never hear from me again.”
She gasps in surprise.
“Twenty-four hours,” she repeats. “That’s not a lot of time –”
“It’s long enough,” I interrupt her. Then I rise from my chair, drop a quick, soft kiss on the top of her head, and proceed to the door.
Chapter 9
Laura
He doesn’t appear to be the least bit surprised when I call him with my answer. It takes twenty-three hours and fifteen minutes after our coffee date for me to finally find the courage to make the call. I didn’t have to work today, and spent all day dwelling over this decision.
I couldn’t consult Layla, even if I wanted to. She doesn’t even know that Ryan Hawkins gave me his card let alone that I met him for coffee yesterday. I know I will have to tell her something, because I won’t be able to keep the money a secret. But that will be future-Laura’s problem.
Luckily, Layla’s not home when I pick up the phone to call him. I didn’t prepare anything to tell him, nothing but “yes.” He was right. His proposal is attractive to me in many regards, more than I’m comfortable to admit. I know all of this would be an entirely different story if he wasn’t so handsome, if his eyes didn’t unsettle me the way they do, if his touch hadn’t felt so soothing and electrifying at the same time.
