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“Little late for you, love,” I say into the phone with a smile, falling down on the couch like a fucking lovesick 16-year-old. “Want me to come over?”
If you can hear eyes being rolled, that’s what it sounds like. But after that, she says quite clearly, “I really don’t want to be..uhm…stripping for the rest of my life.” Good. This was fucking progress. “If you can help me, I can help you.”
“Excellent,” I say aloud. This was the happiest I’d been since she’d left.
“But I have some conditions if I’m going to do this,” she says.
Fuck me. Here it comes. Let’s see how much I’m going to have to pay.
“Okay,” I say, bracing myself.
“First,” she begins. Fuck, she’s got a list. “I don’t want you to pay me. But you are going to do some real charity. Not the photo op kind. I get to pick them and I’ll pick the events as well if needed.”
Easy enough.
“Done,” I say.
She moves on. “Secondly, we need to make clear, that I’m not like some mistress of yours,” she says.
“I’m not going to have sex with you,” she repeats.
Fuck me. Is she being serious? She’s going to pass up the opportunity for me?
But more importantly, I’m going to have to do without her?
Fucking hell. But I need to be near her.
“Fine,” I say with a tight voice. I’ll just have to find it elsewhere.
“Thirdly,” she says over the phone and I can see she’s rehearsed this. “You can’t have sex with anyone else.”
What. The. Fuck.
It’s bad enough that she’s going to prance around in that hot fucking body of hers and say I can’t fuck her. But now I can’t fuck anyone else either?
I gulp. All of a sudden, I need a fucking drink.
“Fine,” I croak.
“Great!” she squeals. She doesn’t even want the money. The whole point of this was giving her enough money to not strip.
“And you give up stripping, right love?” I ask. If she’s going to be stripping at the club, then all bets are off.
“Uhm, right. Yes!” she agrees. Fuck me, I’m going mental for this bird.
“Right, then,” I say, trying to draw my mind away from impure thoughts. “Let’s plan on doing something the day after tomorrow then, love. Get us out in front of the cameras. I’ll have Pressly plan something out and you can tell me if it lives up to your standards.”
We trade details and then hang up.
I sigh deeply to myself.
Alicia
Well, I survived.
Although, to be fair, I didn’t really know what to expect after I got off the phone with him. I mean, after I got back home from dinner on Friday, I kind of just sat there, thinking about the offer.
The money would be great, sure, I couldn’t deny that. And please don't look at me like that, okay? I wasn’t selling myself. I made it explicitly clear that I wouldn’t sleep with him. And I wasn’t far off the truth, telling him I had debts to pay. But then I decided that the money was a short term consideration. The career making secrets I’d find were the long term goals.
