because her brain hadn’t kicked in yet, and I waited as she slowly ate.
Eventually, her eyes came up to me, and she smiled. Her hair was crazy, tangled and spiky in places, but she was still beautiful. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Stephanie. Are you ready?”
She’d finished one cup of coffee and poured another with a deep breath. “I
think so.”
“Good. Now…” I paused to draw a stack of paper from the trolley the food
had come on and two pens. One red, one black. “This is a new contract. One I hope you’ll accept.”
“Let me see.” She pulled the papers over to her and began to read. Her brows knitted together, and I handed her the red pen.
“If there’s something you disagree with, then cross it out with this pen.”
She clicked the pen and began to cross things out. So much I thought there
wasn’t much point in the contract. Until I noticed what she’d crossed out exactly.
“Tell me what you think,” I said once she’d finished.
“You said you didn’t do contracts for longer than three days.” Caught in the lie I hadn’t told yet. I’d planned to tell her I did sometimes, but I couldn’t lie to her. Something in me wouldn’t allow it.
“You’re different, that’s all I can say.” It was an admission I hadn’t wanted to make, but she forced it out of me with those eyes that saw everything, even if they didn’t always announce what they’d seen.
“I’ll accept that. Are you sure two weeks isn’t too long?” Those amazing eyes caught mine, and I felt like a bug under a microscope.
“It might be, but I’m confident we’ll fill the time well.” She made a note on the paper with a black pen. “Are you sure you want to add that?”
“What? The get out of jail free card? Yes. You might get bored.” She smiled, but there was a sadness to it.
“Alright. But I don’t think a week is long enough. Two weeks should be sufficient.” I’d fuck her six ways to Sunday and get her out of my system. I’d hoped.
“Shall I change it back to two then?” Her eyes bored into mine, and I smiled, enamored with her charm.
“Yes, pet.”
“Alright. Now, this part where we meet at your house. Are you sure about that?” Again, her eyes were on mine and I couldn’t look away.
“I’d rather be in my home when I fuck you the first time, Stephanie. Not here. If that’s alright with you.”
“Well, I’m not sure about that, to be honest. Being here gives me reassurance, if I’m honest. Not that I think you’ll chain me up and never let me go. But here, there’s added safety.” She looked away, and I knew it was an issue of trust. Fuck, how would I get around that?
“Would you feel safer at your home? I really think your first time should be in a more personal place than what amounts to a brothel, if we’re honest about it.” I was a little impatient, but I forced myself to reel it in. “I think you deserve more than this, Stephanie.”
I leaned over the table and placed my hand over hers. I needed to reassure her, and touch always worked best on her.
“I’m not sure about my place either. Like I said, I feel safer here. No matter what it really is.”
I didn’t point out the rooms were sound-proofed, and no one would hear her
scream if she actually screamed for help. This was an issue, one I hadn’t realized would be. I didn’t want to take her virginity in a brothel, and she was afraid to leave it. What to do.
“We can work on that later then. What else do you object to?” I waited for
the next objection as her eyes traveled down the page.
“I don’t want your money.” She looked me right in the eye when she said it.
“That is a grotesque amount, and if I’m honest, I’ve never wanted money. I only took it because it was part of the deal here. The house takes a cut of it.”
“Then donate it to a charity.” Solved simply enough, I’d thought.
“I’m not sure I should donate money I’ve earned on my back to charity.” She looked ruffled about that, and I knew I could handle this one.
“Then I’ll do it for you. Just tell me which charity you want the money to go to.” I smiled blandly.
She looked up, her left brow crooked and her lips pursed. “No, you don’t get
it. I don’t want money to fuck you, sir. Any.”
“Oh?” Now I was confused.
“I don’t want to feel like your whore, sir. I want to feel like your sub. Money makes me feel like I have to perform, put on a show. And for that many zeroes, it would have to be some show. I don’t want that.” She scratched at the number again, over and over, until the red ink obscured the black numbers.
“Fine. No money, then.” I’d still donate something to the charity she’d started to write on the paper and crossed out.
