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He shook his head again, his naturally dark hair shining in the light.
I’m an art dealer. I know my stuff.
“You could have fooled me.”
His lips curled upward, then down, as the sound of another voice filled the room.
“Good evening, Feebee and Mercer.”
In each other’s arms, we stilled, our bodies tensing with trepidation creeping over every nerve.
“I’ve noticed you’ve been getting closer. It’s been...amusing to watch. It might help with what today’s task entails.”
I swallowed down my questions, always being too eager to delay talking to the voice. Mercer’s fingers brushed through my hair and distracted me.
His jaw ticked, and the silence in the room allowed me to hear his perfect teeth grinding.
“For today’s task, you’ll need to lose your dirty clothes.”
Mercer’s mouth opened and closed with the words he couldn’t say. His chest rose and fell, hard and heavy. His deep breaths pushed me away, then pulled me back in.
“What...what do you want us to do?” I pushed forward, staring up at the red dot until it burned my eyes. I blinked away the ache, closing and opening my sore eyes three times, twisting my gaze to Mercer and his soft, sympathetic stare.
“We have to sleep together?” It was my voice saying those words. My new heart was pounding for multiple reasons. Beating for him...racing for him.
“Your task…is to have sex, and if you can find a way to get off, Mercer, with a partner who will have challenges in the way of pleasing you, she can live. If she serves you no purpose, she won’t.”
My eyes widened, already seeing my future failings. Mercer’s did the opposite, eyes narrowing on the glaring light, his silent argument honoring and defending me, but it didn’t help.
The heavy door opened, and the shadow of a human neared, his dark clothes and squeaky boots making noises that had my stomach rolling as he closed in on us.
I gripped Mercer, my nails pressing into his golden tan, and he gripped me, too, holding me tightly as the man dropped to his haunches, his wide knees clicking.
His face was painted again. Green today, like the vomit I was trying to keep down.
Mercer soothed me, his fingers stroking through my hair.
The paint cracked as the man smiled, revealing his crooked teeth. His hand opened before us, revealing a pink metallic square in the center of his palm. A condom that Mercer reached for. And with that, the man left without a word.
The pink packet threatened me with what was to come. The vision of it became blurred, and I couldn’t make out the brand or the words it said about protection. I blinked to see better, and a tear fell.
Mercer’s fingers closed around the pink square, one of them catching the tear from my face, a corner of the packet poking me as I flattened his hand to my cheek. I couldn’t let his hand go.
“I guess this is goodbye.”
His pretty eyes squinted. His body moved awkwardly to collect the pad and crayon from where he had left them on the floor.
He wrote me a quick message. His scribbles, hard to understand, especially with the tears.
It’s not the end.
The disagreement from my face brought a million emotions to his. And I saw them all.
“I won’t be able to please you. I can’t move my hips. I won’t be good.”
I’ll help you, another note told me. I won’t let it end this way.
“It won’t work. He sets time limits. We won’t have enough time.” I angled my head to the red light, waiting for him to remind us of what I'd done on day one, but I beat him to it. “I had one when I sucked you,” I meekly admitted, my eyes low with shame, ironically aimed close to his crotch.
