“You are sort of a slob.”
“Bitch.”
I grinned back at her, before my eyes dropped to her shopping bags.
Her face went red. “Oh, this is just…I mean, I had some returns to make, so I—”
“Andrea.”
Her mouth snapped shut, her lips twisting awkwardly.
“C’mon, you can tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
I gave my old friend a look. “Dude, c’mon. Either you won the lottery or you’re selling drugs or something.”
She smiled, avoiding my eyes. “It’s nothing like that. It’s…”
She trailed off and shrugged.
“Yes?”
Andrea sighed. “Look, there’s this guy, okay?” She immediately shook her head, seeing the look on my face. “It’s nothing like that, he just…” She shrugged. “It’s complicated.”
“I’m listening?”
Her eyes darted to mine, blinking quickly. “You don’t want to listen to this.”
My brow furrowed.
Andrea looked scared. Well, no, not scared, just, nervously excited I guess. And she also looked like she was trying to hide that excitement.
“C’mon Andrea, it’s me.”
“I know,” she said quickly. “Which is why I’m asking you to drop it, okay? Look it’s really nothing. Just a guy I met.”
I rolled my eyes, annoyed at her little game of secrets. “Fine, whatever.”
Andrea looked down and I sighed. “Okay, okay, it’s fine. Really. Have your little secrets.”
She grinned. “Delivery sushi for dinner to make it up to you? I’m buying.”
I eyed the Prada and Hermès shopping bags still lying on the floor by the door.
“Damn right you are.”
2
Mia
The front door to the building shut with a dull click behind me, and I groaned as I slumped against the wall of mailboxes.
My muscles ached, my feet hurt. I was sweaty. My thumb smarted where I’d burned it on the heat lamp.
I silently shook my head. Five hours. I’d lasted five damn hours at the job.
And no, none of the eighty-seven places I’d sent my resume had suddenly offered me a job. But you know who had? Jumpin’ Joe’s Diner, in Hell’s Kitchen.
Mindy, a friend of a friend, worked there, and had gotten me an interview two days after my little melt down about Andrea’s shopping spree. The next day — tonight, I was on the floor for my first shift, ready to sweat to make some money.
And I’d made it five hours. Not even a whole shift.
In fairness, it wasn’t like it was my fault. I tried, and I knuckled down and worked for those five hours. I’d never had a silver spoon in my mouth, and I did understand the importance of hard work, even at an unglamorous job like diner waitressing. That I could take.
What I couldn’t take was the manager — Chester. Grossly inappropriate and distasteful jokes had turned to even creepier comments. Those had led to lingering hands on my shoulders — to “work out how tense I was” — and a hip that brushed my ass about three times too many to be an accident.
And all of that, I could take, ‘cause I needed the job.
At the five hour mark though, he’d called me into his office. Chester had told me with a deep sigh that I was a great worker, but he just didn’t have space on the schedule for me — that is, unless maybe I could do something for him.
That’s about the time he’d slid back from his desk and unzipped his pants.
That’s about the time I turn on my heel and left.
And now here I was, back at square one.
Eventually, I could hear people coming down the main staircase of the apartment building, so I un-slumped myself from the wall and made a passing effort of a smile at them as I headed up the stairs to our apartment.
“Are you fucking kidding me?!”
Andrea’s jaw dropped before she marched over and threw her arms around me. “God I am so sorry. That’s awful!”
“It’s fine,” I mumbled, dropping my bag to the floor.
“No it’s not! That is so not okay. We should call the police or something and—”
“Hey Andrea?”
She stopped, her lips pursing.
“Can you just pour me a very large glass of something?
“That I can.”
Wine in hand, I slumped next to my roommate on the couch, Party of Five re-runs playing quietly on the TV.
“Look, I’m going to pay you back, I swear, I just—”
“Mia, stop. Really, it’s okay.”
“It’s not!” I snapped, scowling at the floor before I sighed. “It’s not, Andrea. I need to get a job, even if you never do let me pay you back.”
She was quiet a minute, and when I looked over, I saw her staring at an imaginary spot on the floor chewing her lip.
“What?”
“I need to tell you something.”
I arched my brow.
“So, there is a guy.”
“Well, that much you told me—”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” She frowned. “Well, he is, but it’s nothing like that.”
My brow furrowed. “Well, what’s it like?”
She bit her lip.
“Andrea? What’s it like—”
“Transactional.”
I froze. “What?”
“Hang on, it’s not what it sounds like.”
I shook my head. “Look, I’m not going to judge you or any—”
“Oh, come on, Mia! What do you think I am?”
“Well what did you just say you were?
She glared at me. “I’m not a hooker.”
“Andrea, I’m sorry I asked—”
“Look, these guys have money, and they want to spend it on a girl who’ll wear that money well.”
I shook my head, standing. “I should go shower.”
“Sit.” Her face fell. “C’mon, Mia, let me explain. I’m not hooking, okay?”
Her eyes pleaded with me, and slowly, I sat back down.
“There’s no sex implied. I mean, believe me, if these guys want to get laid, they won’t have a problem. We’re talking very very rich, very good-looking guys. But they want the arm candy. They want people to look when they walk into a room.” She shrugged. “I guess you could call it escorting?”
“You could also call it hooking.”
She flipped me off. “I told you, it’s not about the sex. It’s about the status for them.”
“So, you’re seeing one of these guys.”
She nodded quietly. “Blaine.”
“And Blaine just likes to buy you stuff?”
She nodded. “And to go out with him to dinner and on vacation.”
“Wait that’s who you went to the Keys with?”
Andrea blushed. “I wasn’t in the Keys.”
“Andrea!”
“I was in the Maldives.”
I whistled. “Holy shit. And they do all this for no sex?”
She blushed again, darker this time, and my jaw dropped.
“Oh my God…”
“The job isn’t sex.” She bit her lip and looked down, smiling privately. “That part comes willingly.”
She quickly took a huge sip of wine.
“So, it’s like you’re dating?”
“Sort of? No?” She shook her head. “It’s complicated.”
“You’ve already said that.
“I— we—” she stammered. “It’s not like a relationship I’ve been in before. It’s…different.”
“How?”
“Evolved?”
“I don’t even know what you’re saying.”
She smiles, sipping at her drink. “These guys…they like to be in control. And they like the girls they see to, well, to want them to be in control.”
She paused
“Always,” she whispered.
I felt my pulse quicken. “God, you mean like, master-slave—”
 
; “Oh, stop it. You’ve been reading too many romance books. It’s not silly like that.”
I could see in her eyes that it wasn’t. I could see that whoever this Blaine guy was, Andrea cared about him. In some way, I guess.
“So you like him telling you what to do?”
“It’s not like that, Mia. It’s—” She shook her head. “I can’t explain it. I don’t think you’d get it.”
She started to get up.
“Hey! Andrea, c’mon! Look I’m sorry, it’s just, this is a lot to take in.”
She smiled. “It was for me too, but I got used to it. And now?” She bit her lip. “Now I can’t imagine not having it.”
Something sparked inside of me, imagining someone taking control of me like what she was describing.
Something definitely sparked.
“Well, I’ll have to keep an eye out for rich, domineering, playboys who want to spend money on me.”
Andrea was quiet for a second before she took a quick breath and glanced up at me. “Blaine actually knows someone.”
My head jerked up from my wine. “Excuse me?”
She blushed. “Blaine, h-he knows someone. He’s actually asked about you.”
My jaw dropped. “Andrea! And how does he know about me exactly?”
“I’ve told him,” she said quickly. “And maybe I gave Blaine your picture on Facebook to show him?”
I could feel my cheeks redden. I was angry, for sure, but I was also intrigued.
“I can’t believe you showed him my—”
“He wants to meet you, Mia.”
I balked. “What?”
“Tomorrow. He wants to take you out get to know you.”
My head shook on autopilot. “No, no way. I can’t believe you’d do this!”
“I’m sorry!” Her face fell. “Look I just thought, you know, the money is amazing, and really, Blaine is a really nice guy. I figured a friend of his who he knows would be, you know, someone you could try it with.”
“I think I’m done talking about this.”
I started to stand, when my eyes landed on the fresh array of shopping bags on the floor of Andrea’s room. I could see them through her open door.
She always had rent money. And mine.
And delivery food, and nice things.
And the fact that she didn’t work.
I felt my pulse quicken as I slowly turned back to her. “There’s no sex?”
“Nothing implied. I mean,” she blushed. “There can be sex, but—”
“But you don’t have to.”
She shook her head. “No.”
I paused. What was I doing? Why was I actually considering this?
“C’mon, me? Arm candy?”
Andrea rolled her eyes. “Mia, stop. You’re cute and you know it.”
“Oh, am I?”
I gave her a look before glancing down at my stupid Jumpin’ Joe’s Diner striped skirt and absurd logo-embossed polo shirt.
Andrea shrugged. “Well, when you don’t smell like burgers and you’re not covered in maple syrup.”
“Hey! I—”
“You’ve got some right— yeah, right there.” She made a face as she pointed at my temple.
Sure enough, my fingers came away sticky.
She smiled. “Sorry.”
I looked down at the stupid waitressing costume. I glanced over again at her open doorway, and the bags of things sitting inside. I looked around the apartment I had no business living in considering I had no money or job.
And slowly, I nodded.
“Okay.”
I shivered as I said it.
“Call him, or whatever. Tomorrow it is.”
3
Mia
I was nervous as hell as I stepped into Bucco, the insanely upscale, impossible to get a reservation for, restaurant in midtown. I swallowed as I glanced around the place, still not quite believing that this was happening, or that I was actually doing this.
I was dressed to the nines, borrowing some of Andrea’s better clothes and shoes for the occasion. I still couldn’t believe she’d talked me into this, but she’d swore up and down that sex was not part of the job — not what I’d be paid for.
“So, what’s he like?”
Andrea had shaken her head as she helped me pull my hair up into an intricate bun. “I’ve never met him. I only texted with him from Blaine’s phone after he mentioned that his friend was curious if I had any friends.”
I shivered at the thought of just how much of a stranger this guy was — Andrea hadn’t even met him.
“But Blaine says he’s nice, and good-looking.”
And now there I was, smiling nervously at the hostess as she asked me to follow her to my table.
The restaurant was dimly lit with candles — romantic and sexy, and yet also spooky in an exciting kind of way. We meandered through tables, through a curtain into a back dining room, and then suddenly, there he was.
He was tall, his features sharp in that “from money” way, with dark eyes and brown hair slicked to the side. I wouldn’t say he was gorgeous at all, as Andrea had described Blaine, but he was attractive enough. And yet, there was something dark, glinting there in the shadows of his eyes. He stood as we approached, his eyes narrowing at me.
“Hi, Ryan?” I smiled warmly. “My name is—”
“You’re late, Mia” he growled the second the hostess left us.
I frowned worriedly. “Am I? I’m so sorry, I thought we’d said we were meeting at—”
“It’s fine,” he snapped dismissively. I started to sit, but he suddenly grabbed my arm with a strong hand.
“Let’s go.”
My brow furrowed as I bit my lip. “Aren’t we having dinner?”
“Change of plans.” His eyes slid over me, sending an uncomfortable chill through me as he lingered at my cleavage, his eyes sparking.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought we were—”
“You’ll do whatever and you’ll go wherever I say,” he hissed under his breath, eyes flashing at me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, not sure what I was apologizing for.
“I forgive you.”
There was something edged and sarcastic about his voice that I hadn’t expected, and I shivered.
“Maybe Andrea didn’t tell you how this works, but we’re going to the club now.”
Andrea had not told me this.
“Oh, dancing?”
He laughed, though it felt more like he was laughing at me than anything else.
“Not that kind of club. This one’s a bit more exclusive than that. It’s where everyone goes with their girls.”
I frowned at his words, the use of “their girls” as if he owned me or something, but I quickly smiled. “Oh, I didn’t know that.”
“Well, surprise then.” He smiled darkly as he stood. “My car’s out front.”
“I—” I swallowed an uneasy feeling settling in my chest. “I should—”
“You should know your place and do as I say.”
I did frown then. “Excuse me?” I barked out a laugh, eliciting looks from a nearby table. “I don’t know what sort of girls you’re used to, but you better believe I—”
“I’ll put it in terms you’ll understand,” he interrupted. “Come to the club and have a drink with me, or you don’t get paid.”
His eyes met mine, holding them, and I shivered again at that hint of darkness there.
“Okay,” I finally whispered, scared by that look. After all, I was supposed to be getting $5,000 for a dinner with this creep. I might as well get paid.
He smiled wickedly and grabbed my arm, hard, escorting me though the restaurant. “Excellent. And please don’t forget to smile when we get there.”
We rode in silence in the back of a limousine. I was still furious at the way things had gone on this “date,” but I sure as hell wasn’t going to walk away without getting paid. And if going to his stupid club and smiling for his douchebag friends made
that happen, so be it.
I was going to have a serious discussion with Andrea when I got home, though.
In the car, I pulled my phone out of my clutch and scowled as I typed out a message to her:
“We have to go to the club first, but then I’m coming home. This sucked.”
I got a sad face back, followed by “I’m so sorry!”
Then she texted again.
“What club? U going dancing?”
I frowned in the darkness of the limo, thinking of Ryan’s words. “It’s where everyone goes with their girls.”
I opened my phone again. “The club — doesn’t Blaine bring u there 2?”
Her reply came instantly.
“No??? What club??”
“We’re here.”
I jerked my head up at Ryan’s voice. His eyes dropped to my phone, narrowing. “There’s no phones in there.” He held his hand out, and my brow went up.
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously,” he muttered, glaring at me. “Jesus, someone needs to teach you how to behave.”
Under any other circumstances in the world, and I’d have slapped him across the face. But “any other circumstances in the world” wasn’t getting paid $5,000 to have dinner.
“You’ll get it back later, I promise,” he said with another dark smile.
I nodded, closing my passcode protected phone and placing it in his palm. He pocketed it, and then stepped out, giving me a hand to help me out as well.
It looked like we were somewhere in Soho, by the look of the old factory-style loft buildings and cobblestone side streets. Ryan led me to an unmarked door, manned by two large men in tuxedos, who nodded at him with cold familiarity before opening the door for us.
Red light glowed ominously from within, and I froze for a second, before Ryan’s hand tightened on my wrist, pulling me after him.
The red antechamber was small, and the sense of being trapped washed over me as the men in tuxedos closed the doors. The velvet wall in front of us suddenly swung open and I gasped.
The club was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Sensually lit by recessed lighting and dimmed, low hanging crystal chandeliers, the place oozed sexuality. Dark booths and alcoves half-hid a myriad of gorgeous couples, dressed to the nines in suits and incredible evening dresses. Soft beats pulsed across the room, and I brought my hand to my mouth as off to one side on a raised platform, two completely nude women danced sensually in a cage.