The Billionaire's Bargain (First Desire: Taming Savannah) (3 page)

“Now that was a bit more fun than a
powerpoint presentation, don’t you think?” Savannah said.

“I’ll give you that,” Gus laughed, running
his hand along the space between her breasts.

“If I’d known that office hours could be so
constructive, I’d have started coming on day one,” she said, “Pun
intended, of course.”

“Of course.”

Gus straightened himself up, pulling slowly
out of out his new favorite student. He fell back into his desk
chair in a daze. Savannah hopped down off the desk and quickly
began to dress herself. She tossed her catatonic professor his own
shirt, smirking at his bemused stare.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never slept with a
student before,” she teased, “I’ll have to assume you’re lying. And
I don’t take kindly to liars.”

“No,” Gus said, “I’ve had a couple flings in
the past but you... You’re not like any student I’ve ever had.”

“No,” said Savannah, “I don’t suppose I
am.”

“You’re... You’re a woman, Savannah.”

“What did you expect, a mountain goat? Youth
is pretty arbitrary, you know. Some of us are just born with a few
more miles than others.”

“Spoken like a true sexual pioneer, eh?”

“Whatever,” Savannah responded, tired of this
bantering nonsense. “I guess I’ll be off then. Thanks for the study
session.”

“Wait,” said Gus, sitting up straight,
“What’s the rush?”

“Well,” said Savannah, “I doubt that it would
look too pretty if one of your colleagues or students showed up
right now. Don’t you have appointments booked?”

“Oh, sure,” Gus said, hurrying to dress
himself, “But I’ll cancel them!”

“Now, professor,” Savannah chided, crossing
her arms, “You’re starting to sound downright desperate. I have to
tell you, that’s not a quality I generally look for, in men.”

As Gus was about to respond, there was a
knock on the door. Savannah raised her eyebrows dramatically at her
professor. Gus jumped to his feet, surveying the papers strewn
about in sheer terror.

“Who is it?” Gus called, straightening up his
office.

“It’s me? Jeremy?” a voice answered, “We were
supposed to meet about my paper?”

Delighted, Savannah yanked the door open just
as Gus put the last stack of papers back onto the desk. The boy
who’d tried to strike up a conversation with her earlier stood in
the doorway. Jeremy took in the scene of Gus and Savannah with
slack-jawed befuddlement, and Savannah could hardly stifle her
laughter. She picked up her belongings and extended her hand to
Gus.

“Thanks for all your help, professor,” she
said, “I really think I have a better understanding of your
theories about human sexuality, now.”

Bemused, Gus shook Savannah’s hand once. She
grinned brilliantly first at Gus, then at Jeremy, and breezed past
both out of the office, slamming the door behind her. Just another
day in the life, she thought, striding toward the elevator. And it
isn’t even noon, yet.

***

“So, let me get this straight,” said Claire,
when she and Savannah had reconvened at the latter’s apartment in
the East Village of New York City, “Instead of studying, going to
class, going to work, or doing, you know, anything normal at all,
your day consisted of fucking your professor in his office with a
hundred of your fellow students in the adjacent rooms?”

“Pretty much!” Savannah chirped, “You like
whiskey, right?”

“Sure,” said Claire.

“‘Cause I’ve got vodka too. It’s really your
choice.”

The girls were sitting in Savannah’s kitchen,
which was really just a narrow strip of tile featuring a faulty
stove and a sometimes-functional sink. The most notable part of the
micro room was, without a doubt, Savannah’s home-made liquor
cabinet. The cabinet was actually a crate mounted on the wall, but
its contents were certainly genuine. Savannah kept a well-stocked
bar and knew how to pour an excellent drink. She’d worked as a
bartender for her first few years of college and put away a decent
amount of money. But eventually, perhaps inevitably, the gig had
fallen through.

The bar had been owned by a pair of
middle-aged brothers who, by virtue of that fact that she was
Savannah, had fallen hard for their employee. As disengaged as she
was from the “love” part of sex, Savannah had slept with both of
them because they were good looking and well-endowed. Of course,
this didn’t really fly with the brothers, whose relationship
disintegrated under the enormity of their feelings for Savannah.
Eventually, tensions had mounted so high that the brothers were
forced to sell the bar and cut off all communication with each
other. This was a pity, in Savannah’s opinion, as she probably
could have wrangled them into a killer threesome if they’d just
been a little more open-minded.

“So, what’re you having?” Savannah asked,
surveying her stock, “Cape Cod? Manhattan? Or one of your stupid
girlie drinks?”

“Not everyone can drink straight Scotch like
you, Savannah,” said Claire.

“So, a cosmo, then?” Savannah laughed.

“Yes,” said Claire, embarrassed by her
order.

“Coming right up."

As Savannah prepared their drinks, Claire
looked around the apartment. It wasn’t a large space, by any means.
But, this being the East Village, it was still pretty impressive
that Savannah could manage to maintain an off-campus apartment as
well as she did. Claire was still living on campus in a suite with
five others girls, and the arrangement left much to be desired.
Whereas Claire was a photographer by major and passion, all of the
other girls were studying acting. There was a lot of hysteria
floating around that apartment, and a whole lot of glitter, it
turned out. Claire couldn’t help but envy Savannah’s arrangement,
just a little.

“How do you do it?” Claire asked.

“What, exactly?” Savannah replied.

“All... this!” Claire said, waving her arms
around at the apartment, and at Savannah herself, “How do you
manage to do nothing but have sex or think about sex all day but
still manage to keep this place, and your scholarships, and all of
these lovers around?”

“I dunno,” said Savannah, “Just talented, I
guess. Would you like your drink?” Claire accepted her bright pink
cosmopolitan while Savannah kept a dry martini for herself.

“To talent, then,” Claire said, raising her
glass.

“Don’t be mad at me, Claire,” said Savannah,
clinking glasses with her sullen friend, “I’m telling you, all this
takes is a little luck and a lot of resourcefulness.”

“Don’t give me that,” Claire said, making a
face at her friend, “I know what rent is like in New York City, and
resourcefulness doesn’t come close to cutting it as an explanation.
Are your parents giving you money?”

“My mom can hardly afford her mortgage on the
house back home,” Savannah said, “And my dad is more of a taker
than a giver.”

“Then... what is it?” Claire demanded, “How
in the world are you making any money at all? You’ve never been
able to hold onto a job.”

“That’s not true!” Savannah cried.

“Oh, no?” Claire asked, rolling her eyes,
“What about the bar?”

“They guys decided to close up shop. What
could I do?”

“How about your nannying gig?”

“How was I supposed to know that I wasn’t
supposed to sleep with the father? I didn’t see that anywhere in
the contract, thank you very much.”

“And the tutoring gig at the college learning
center?”

“Oh, please. They may as well just call that
speed dating.”

“You’re incorrigible, you know that,
Savannah?” Claire said, “I think you might be a nymphomaniac.”

“Well,” Savannah said, taking a sip of her
drink, "we all have our burdens.”

“Seriously,” Claire said, laying a hand on
Savannah’s bony shoulder, “I’m worried about you. Money doesn’t
come out of nowhere, and easy money is rarely made through honest
work.”

“You’ve been watching Law and Order again,
haven’t you?”

“There was a marathon on this weekend... But
that’s not my point!”

“What is your point, Claire?”

“My point is that I’m scared for you. If you
need someone to talk to about whatever it is that’s going on—”

“What exactly do you think is going on, huh?
What’s your worst nightmare?”

“Really? You want to know the truth,
Savannah?”

“I do.”

“Fine,” Claire took a deep breath and looked
her friend in the eye, “I worry that you’ve started accepting
money. You know... for sex. Savannah stared at Claire, her eyes
wide. Suddenly, the tiny girl burst into laughter. Claire smiled
nervously as Savannah wiped tears of laughter from her eyes.

“Oh, Claire!” Savannah said, fighting back
tears, “What a thing to say!”

“I guess that was kind of silly, to assume
that,” Claire smiled sheepishly.

“Oh, no,” Savannah said, “I’m laughing
because you’re just adorably in the dark.”

“What?”

“Of course I’m getting money for sex,”
Savannah said, “Duh!”

Claire’s jaw practically hit the ground. She
stared, uncomprehendingly, at her best friend, the girl she had
known before she was born. Could it be that Savannah had actually
become one of those girls? The girls that you hear about on the
nightly news? Who get raped and murdered after responding to faulty
Craigslist ads? Those girls? Savannah raised an eyebrow at her
shellshocked buddy.

“What?” Savannah said, “Are you surprised or
something?”

“Um... A little!” Claire cried.

“What,” Savannah said, expasperated, “You
think that all this just pays for itself? That’s a sixty dollar
bottle of vodka you’ve got mixed into that little cocktail. I have
to have some way of making money, don’t I?”

“But Savannah... Isn’t that kind of work so
degrading? And dangerous? And just... gross?”

“Gross?” Savannah said, “You think that I’m
gross?”

“No!” Claire said, “No, of course not! But
selling your body for money, it’s just... It’s so beneath you,
Savannah.”

“Why?” Savannah laughed, “Because I’m getting
my degree, and was lucky enough to be born in America, and all
that? Let me tell you something, Claire. Sex sells. And it sells
well. I’m just using my god-given gifts to make a living. It’s the
American Dream. Or some version of it.”

“I’m not buying it,” Claire said.

“I’m not asking you to,” said Savannah.

The girls were locked in a stalemate of
silence. Neither was about to give ground, that much was sure.
After being friends for long, there was no element of deferring in
their relationship. Each girl stood fast by what she believed and
took no shit from the other. That was why they had stayed such good
friends, because neither compromised who she was for the benefit of
the other’s feelings. After a long, tense moment, Claire let out a
defeated sigh.

“Well,” she said slowly, “Are you at least
being... Safe?”

“What do you mean, ‘safe’”? Savannah said
bitterly.

“Come on. You know what I mean,” Claire said,
“Are you being safe. When you have sex with these guys?” Savannah’s
eyes widened to the size of saucers.

“What?!” she cried.

“When you do the deed,” Claire repeated, “Do
you have, like, condoms? And—”

“Claire! Hold up! I’m not having sex with
anyone!”

“But... You just said—”

“I said that I’m getting paid for sex. And I
am! But not, like, actual physical sex!”

“Well, why didn’t you just say that?!” Claire
cried.

“I never thought your mind would go there!”
Savannah said, huffily. “Not that there’s anything wrong with sex
work, mind you. I’m just surprised that that’s where your mind went
first.”

“Can you blame me?” Claire said, exasperated,
“Usually when someone says—”

“Ok, Ok. I’m sorry. I should have
clarified.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll explain everything,” Savannah said,
“Come with me.”

The girls wandered the short distance from
the kitchen to the bedroom. The two spaces were separated by a
flimsy bead curtain. Extra space came hard in the city, that was
for sure. But now that Claire was getting a better idea about how
Savannah paid her rent, she was happy that her friend was willing
to settle for just a little less.

Claire looked around the teeny bedroom. It
looked different than the last time she had seen it, she realized.
It was... glitzier. Girlier than it had been before. Whereas before
there had been a few clothes drawers tucked under the bed and a
bunch of band posters, now there were all sorts of frilly
adjustments. There were pink sheets, posters of Audrey Hepburn, and
even a row of convincing wigs. Claire stepped cautiously, as if
into a minefield.

“What... What is all of this?” She asked.
Savannah spread her arms wide, gesturing to the new frilly
space.

“Welcome to my studio!” she cried, beaming at
her wigs and cosmetics, “This is where all the magic happens!”

“Studio... Magic...?” Claire was entirely
lost. Savannah sighed impatiently.

“I have to walk you through everything, don’t
I?” Savannah asked, exasperatedly. “This is where I film.”

“Film?” Claire asked.

“Yeah. Film.”

“Film what?”

Savannah buried her face into her hands,
beginning to be annoyed with her friend’s innocence. Could it be
possible that Claire just couldn’t connect the dots herself?
Savannah was appalled at the prospect of that being the case. To
think that they had spent their entire lives together, only for
Claire to turn out to be a total prude? Maybe, Savannah thought
guiltily, I stole all the sex drive between us while we were still
in the womb! Like some freaky osmosis shit? She suddenly felt badly
for giving Claire such a hard time.

“Ok,” Savannah said evenly, sitting down on
the bed and patting the space beside her, “Just come here. I’ll
tell you all about it.” Claire sat down, looking over her friend
with concern in her eyes.