Weak for Him (4 page)

I didn't speak.

"No. It's not…" He paused,
chuckled, and then fell silent. I was confused.

"I can't believe I didn't
recognize a
virgin
when I saw one. Usually I'm
very
good at spotting them, but you,
you
were a little hard to
crack. I'm not fooled often."

"Is it written across my forehead
or something?"

"I could tell when I touched you.
Your reaction—you actually flinched. But the fact that you are
standing here proves that you've got an inkling of a wild side.
Beyond the self-doubt, another person waits to be unlocked and set
free. Most women, a majority of them, actually, leave at the
beginning… but you're not like them. You're different.
You
are the virgin who stayed."

He placed his hand under my chin
and forced me to look into his emerald-green eyes.

"If you'll trust me, and agree to
be one of my girls, I can make your wildest dreams come
true."

"So let me get this straight." I
put my hands on my hips. "I guess I'm not applying for an
accounting position?"

"I've got the perfect
position
for you, but I don't think you can handle
it."

With his face close, his warm
breath tingled across my skin. He left me utterly
speechless.

"Would you like a drink, Ms.
Downs?"

"Yes, actually I
would."

"Rocks or straight up?"

"Um. Rocks."

Mr. Felton sat my drink on the
edge of the desk and stood on the other side. He watched me move
across the room, naked and in red heels. As I approached my drink,
he grinned. I reached over the desk and chugged it fast. My throat
burned.

"Thirsty, are we?
Refill?"

I slid the glass toward him. He
poured Maker's Mark midway on the rocks glass, and I slammed it
down.

"Another?"

"Bring it."

My face burned along with my body.
I could feel the alcohol running through my veins, calming the
tense muscles and washing my jittery nerves away with each drink.
He poured another, filled the glass to the rim, and as I tried to
swallow down the next round of liquid gold, he stopped
me.

"When's the last time you've had
hard liquor?"

"Never. I'm barely
twenty-two."

"That doesn't matter. I know
seventeen-year-olds that can drink me under the table."

I didn't answer. I didn't want to
be seen as a prude twenty-two-year-old virgin who never drank a
drop and cursed like a sailor.

Instead, I lifted the glass and
tipped it up, making sure to get each drop.

"Why are you here, Ms.
Downs?"

"I have no fucking
clue."

He puckered his lips a bit and
then raised an eyebrow.

"Then you should ask your body to
tell you because you keep looking at me, and undressing and fucking
me with your eyes. I'm making you an offer. Join my team. Or like I
said at the beginning, you can walk that tight ass right back
through the door it entered."

My mouth dropped open.

"My business is successful because
I have the ability to make all of my clients fantasies come true,
and profit from it."

"I don't think I fully understand
what I would be committing to."

"Have you ever heard the saying
sex sells
?"

I nodded.

"Well, I'm the
supplier."

With those words, my mind took a
moment to catch up with my body that seemed so willing to do
whatever Felton said.

Vulnerability coated
me.

I crossed my legs and placed my
arms over the girls as the reality of the situation revealed its
self. The room began to spin.

Why the hell was I naked in his
office?

Living
. I almost
forgot.

Five

"
I
sell sex. We are human.
We have sexual, animalistic needs, and there is a market. It's
nothing more than a physical act with a literal happy ending, but
not for the faint of heart or frail."

"You sell women?"

"If you are implying I rent out
whores, you are incorrect. I offer a high-end call service. There
is a difference. We are class, not trash, and have clients that pay
close to 20k for one night. My girls are at the top of the sexual
pyramid. Rigorous interviews and compatibility tests are involved
as well. I'm not running a meat service, Ms. Downs. It's offensive
for one to imply so."

I opened my mouth and closed it
immediately.

"My girls have rights and
protection, legally and physically. The rules are strict, and
everyone must abide by them, including the clients. Women beg to be
a part of The Elite, and I deny thousands, yes,
thousands
per year."

"I… I…"

"I'm offering you something that
not many are given, an opportunity to join my team, to become one
of my girls."

"I… I don't know what to
say."

"Say yes."

"But…"

"I can offer you thirty a month,
tax free. There is something about you, Ms. Downs, something that I
want. Plus, I can get a very pretty penny for your virginity.
Probably over a million, and you would earn eighty percent of
that."

"Thirty? And wait, you want to… to
sell my virginity?"

"Thirty thousand and yes. You'd be
prime real estate, Ms. Downs. Of course, you don't have to make a
decision now. Give me a call when you're ready to give yourself to
me."

He handed me a black business
card, different than the first, with white lettering and a red
shiny imprint of a kiss on the back. Then he poured himself another
round of Maker's Mark.

"Get dressed, Ms. Downs. It's time
for you to leave. Call my extension when you've made your
decision."

"I…"

"Get. Out. Now."

Instead of saying something
immature–like
fuck you
, or
you're an asshole
–I walked
to the pile of clothes on the floor, and quickly dressed. I grabbed
the bobby pins from the floor, put my hair back into a loose bun,
and glanced at him as I slipped out the door. Mr. Felton never
turned around or spoke another word as he stared out the windows
that overlooked the city.

The secretary at the front desk
smiled at me as I walked by. Two women waited in chairs, both
blonde and beautiful. Would they strip down to nothingness as soon
as they walked in, just as I had? Would they walk in blind and walk
out enlightened by the fact that someone capitalized on selling
sex?

If I decided to do this, I would
make over a quarter of a million dollars in the first year. That
kind of money for a recent college graduate was unheard
of.

As the elevator floated downward,
I could only think about the offer. How valuable was my pride? When
I came to Vegas, I wanted change, but a complete 360?

The limousine, slick and smooth
with windows so dark I couldn't see inside, waited as Mr. Felton
promised.

A bottle of iced champagne sat
next to a crystal flute. Tied around the top was a note with
perfect handwriting that read:

I'll be expecting your acceptance
call.

-F

"Fucker," I whispered to the piece
of paper and I ripped it into a million pieces.

But could I really do it? Could I
really be one of "his girls," as he put it?

The limo stopped moving forward
and seconds later the door swung open. Light flooded in, filling
the dark car with rusted rays of sunshine. Charlie tipped his hat
at me as I stepped out, and as I turned to say thank you, he
returned to the driver's seat. The long car sped into the distance
before it turned right.

Had everything really happened, or
was it all a product of my imagination? Did I have a wild side
hidden somewhere deep inside? I didn't think so; I'm too modest,
too shy, too nice, I thought.

But if I were being honest, I
wanted to find out. I wanted to be someone else, if only for a
while.

I strolled to the hotel entrance
and realized I had left my clutch with the hotel key back at Mr.
Felton's office.
Idiot.
I didn't want to call until I made
my decision.

The chipper woman at the front
desk made a new key as if it were nothing. I thanked her and went
upstairs to my room. I walked in, plopped down on the bed, and
thought about my options.

To be one of Mr. Felton's girls,
or not to be—that was the million-dollar question.

***

I lay on the hotel bed fully
clothed as my phone buzzed next to my head.

Stupid text tone.

I picked up my cell phone, and
opened my text messages from an unknown number.

You left your purse at my office,
and I got your information from your brilliantly crafted
resume.

I typed thanks and programmed
Felton into my phone.

Boiiiiiing. Boiiiiiing.
Another text.

Have you decided?

I threw the phone across the bed
and ignored the rest of the texts. Maybe the silence would give him
a hint?

I needed to leave the room and
experience some part of Vegas. I ran to the bathroom and stripped
off my clothes—for the second time that day—and jumped in the
shower. I quickly shaved my legs and armpits, washed my hair, and
even brushed my teeth in the shower. After drying my hair, I put on
heavy eyeliner and mascara, and slipped on several sets of clothes
before choosing a pair of dress pants, a sleeveless top, and a
little suit jacket with sparkly buttons.

The hotel bar was boring as hell.
Old people sat around eating fancy pretzels while watching a
baseball game. I sipped more of the delicious cranberry wine and
then the events of the day filled my mind, making my thoughts
cloudy.

Straight ahead, several sized
bottles lined the long wall. I wanted to talk to someone, anyone. I
needed to tell somebody what I had done today, have him or her
console me, and tell me it would be okay. Times like this, I wished
my mother were here. I wished I could hear her voice again, her
laugh, and the way she could make anything dark become light. Too
fucking bad, so sad, a voice said in my head.

Fucking asshole logic won't quit
talking.

I called my best friend
Abbie.

"Hey, Ab."

"Oh my god. I've been worried
about you. The next time I see you, I am beating your ass for not
calling me when you got to the hotel. What the hell, Jen? No
excuses."

"I know.
God
, I
know."

"What's wrong? I can hear
something is wrong in your tone."

She knew me.

She knew me better than I
sometimes knew myself.

Although my parents weren't here
and I didn't have any siblings, Abigail Green knew me like
family.

"I've had a weird fucking day. I
didn't get the interview with Simon & Fitch. I was late because
of a flat."

She knew how much the interview
meant to me. How much I had banked on landing that job. It was my
only plan.

"Oh. So what will you do? Come
back home?" Her voice brightened at the thought. She wanted me back
home.

"No. I had another interview,
actually."

"Really? I didn't know you had any
more lined up."

"It was an accident, and a huge
mistake. This guy walked in on me while I was bathing and offered
me a job."

"Uh, yeah. That is
weird."

"Well, it didn't happen like that
completely, but it did. It sounds weird saying it out loud. And. I
got naked in his office."

The men at the bar turned their
heads and looked at me when the word "naked" left my
lips.

"What are you fucking looking at?"
I asked them.

They averted their eyes back to
the game. I made sure to lower my voice and slightly turn my back
toward them.
Bastards.

"Sometimes you can be such a
bitch," Abbie said.

"What do you expect? They were
being nosey old perverts. Anyway."

I whispered in the phone. "He
wants to sell my virginity."

"
What?
"

"He wants to se—"

"I heard you."

"Who the hell does he think he is?
It pisses me off that I put myself in a vulnerable situation. I am
Jennifer Downs. Most likely to succeed. Career-driven. Prudish.
Pretty. Not some bimbo who undresses at the drop of a
hat."

"But you did."

It sounded way worst when I told
her about it. Every detail down to him telling me to take off my
panties, but I refused to tell her how I felt. I've never been the
type to say no to a challenge, so I had to. Especially those that
come from some young prick CEO of a sex corporation.