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"I need to see what I'm getting first," his eyes dropped to my skirt.
"You don't need to see anything.”
“Oh but that’s where you’re wrong.” His shark-like eyes met mine. “I want to see everything.”
“Half,” I compromised. “I’ll let you see my boobs.”
“I am a boob man.” His gaze lingered languidly downward, considering my offer. “Let me see them first.” When I didn’t move, he continued. “I insist.”
Hesitatingly, my fingers went to my buttons. I'd hoped to get it over with as soon as possible, but I had to play the game. He needed enticement. Numbly, my fingers fumbled with them, one by one, dread churning in my stomach until the stale air of the office hit my belly.
His eyes immediately narrowed in on them, staring, and I shifted uncomfortably in the silence.
"Take off your shirt all the way."
I slid it off and stared at the frayed grey carpeting as he took me in.
Never in my life did I ever think I would be doing this.
Selling myself to a man who I was sure couldn’t even afford to give me the money himself. His tie was probably cheaper than my old hairband.
He leaned in towards me, so close I could smell his cheap aftershave. I clenched my jaw as he softly ran a finger over the tip of my nipple, making it respond. Mortifyingly, it pebbled.
“These will bounce nicely as I take you.” He grinned, straightening. "You suck my dick for three thousand, and I take you on my desk for the rest.”
"Deal," I immediately agreed, "but not until I see the paperwork.” I didn't want him screwing me over.
"How about we both give and take." He made his way back over to his chair. "I'll open your account, then you'll come over here and suck me off. We'll go from there."
It sounded like a bad deal for me, but I was desperate to leave quickly.
"Okay," I agreed, grabbing my shirt.
"Keep it off," he bit out. "I want to see what I’m buying."
"You're not buying anything, you're giving me a loan that I have to pay off."
"True," he admitted. "A loan that you couldn't get anywhere else, so keep your fucking shirt off."
I bit down on my lower lip to keep from responding. He had all the power here, I knew it, so I kept still in my seat, trying to hold back the shame as he sneered at me, staring at my breasts for a long moment, adjusting himself once again.
Finally, after way too long, he grabbed the folder I’d brought. In it, I had some cash and a few forms of identification. His hand slid over to the mouse, moving it to wake up his computer.
"Now," he didn't bother to hide the excitement in his voice as he glanced down at my ID, reading it. “Summer D—” He paused, his whole body going still and, for a long moment the office was absolutely silent. Then an angry red climbed up from his neck and he grit out, "Put your shirt back on, Miss Duvall."
"What?" I was confused. "I thought we were?—“
"Your father doesn’t happen to be Douglass Duvall, does he?" He pointedly didn't look at me now, but stared grimly at the desk.
"Yes?" I was confused. Did he know my father?
"Get out.”
“What?”
He stood, grabbing my folder and shoving everything back inside. “Get out. Now."
I stood, clumsily jerking on my shirt and clasping closed the buttons.
