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When he shut the door, my heart hammered like a trapped bird.
I forced the lump down my dry throat. This was what I'd wanted. When he sat on the edge of his desk, only inches from me, he adjusted the crotch of his pants and I could see that he was already hard.
He'd probably been hard since he'd seen me take my bra off.
"I need you to be as clear as possible, because I'm not going to jail." Sliding his cell across the desk, he tapped onto it, showing me what he’d pulled up—a recording app. "Tell me exactly what you want, right into the recorder.”
“I’m not doing that. You’ll try to use it against me.”
“I swear I'll only use this if you accuse me of rape, or try to put me in jail. Trust me.”
I huffed a half laugh. I couldn’t trust this man if I wanted to. “Are you serious?”
He smirked, “Unless you don’t need a loan.”
I’d put in several job applications this week, but knew I probably won’t get paid more than minimum wage. At least Callie’s school fees were paid, but that didn’t cover anything else. I could live off Ramen noodles, but I doubted Benson could—didn’t the elderly need more vitamins? He hadn’t looked all that well, paler than usual. And the taxes on the estate were due soon, as well as the enormous electricity and gas bills, just to start. I needed gas for my car and insurance.
He stood as if to end the meeting and I held out a hand, desperation growing. “No, no.” I nodded at his phone, “I’ll do it.”
“Be clear,” he pressed record. “What are you willing to do with me?”
I leaned towards the speaker. “I need a loan, and I'm willing to exchange sexual favors for it."
“Not that,” he erased the recording. “Make it clear, you are agreeing to sex with me.”
"Yes.” I spoke into it again, parroting the wording he mouthed. “I’m agreeing to sex with you, without coercion. This is of my own choice.”
He tapped on his phone, turning off the recording. "Good."
"And you can give me a loan? I'm not giving you a freebie."
"I'm sure I can find something for you. Especially for only a few thousand."
"I want twenty thousand." I could at least fix the leaks in the roof to stop it from raining into the house.
His smile disappeared. "You'd better have gold between those legs."
"Oh it is," I bluffed. "Except," I hesitated, "I don't have a condom."
"I have one," he blew through my excuse.
"You keep them in your desk?" Christ, who was this guy? And how many desperate women came to him?
“The slut, judging me," he sneered.
I bit down my response. "So? Do we have a deal?"
He didn't answer right away. "How old are you, really? Remember,” he nodded at the file I’d placed on his desk, “I’ll check your ID."
“Eighteen.”
His confident look faltered, though only for a second. “Plenty old. The age of consent in this state is sixteen."
The fact that he knew this off the top of his head was troubling.
But, at least, he probably wasn't having sex with minors. If he was aware of the law, he was probably trying to keep within it—he did seem to be worried about going to jail.
"So?" I asked, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible. "Do we have a deal? We have sex," I stumbled over the word, “in exchange for twenty thousand."
