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“What happened?”
“It broke down, and I had to walk home in the rain — stupid car. I need a new car,” I shouted from the bathroom. I took a towel, dried my hair, changed into some dry clothes, and went to sit on the couch like I had planned to.
Gina brought me a cup of hot tea and a blanket and sat right next to me.
“If you really want to buy a new car, then you should get a job and save for it. I’m sure you’ll be able to afford one in a couple of months,” she suggested.
“A couple of months? I can’t live a couple of months without a car!” I acted like Gina’s suggestion was absurd when it was one of the soundest pieces of advice anyone had ever given me. But still, I couldn’t take her advice because it was practically impossible. A job would get in the way of my studies, and I couldn’t have that.
“You know how tight my schedule is,” I told her, and she nodded.
“So, what are you going to do?” my roommate asked.
“I don’t know, but I need to find a way to make like twenty-thousand dollars in a day or two, buy a new car, and forget about car problems for a while.”
“Oh yeah? And I need a private jet,” Gina said sarcastically and laughed.
We looked at each other and kept on laughing for a few minutes. That’s why I loved me some Gina. She listened to my crazy ideas and laughed at them, helping me get back to reality.
“Seriously, though. Do you think it’s possible to find a one-time gig that pays twenty grand?” I asked with a straight face.
She shrugged. “I mean, we won’t find out unless we look,” Gina suggested, and a few minutes later, we were both browsing through our phones to find something. I knew my dreams were far-fetched, and I wasn’t hopeful of finding anything at all. But wouldn’t it be nice to actually find such a gig?
“Found something!” my roommate jumped up.
“What? What is it?” I grabbed at her phone.
“You’re not going to like it, and you probably won’t do it, so let me just keep looking,” she told me.
“What? Let me see what it is. What tells you I won’t do it? Is it an assassination gig?” I don’t know why assassination came to mind, but it seemed like the kind of gig that paid 20K.
“No.”
“Bounty hunting?”
“No.”
“Then what? Tell me what the job is about.”
She rolled her eyes. “It says here: Sell your virginity to the highest bidder. Why give it up for free when you can make some bucks out of it? They say that everything is confidential and on your terms.”
I sat back, shocked. “Wow, there’s a market for everything these days,” I said, and we both burst out laughing.
“Alright, what is the process?” I asked.
My roommate almost dropped her phone. “You’re serious, Carrie? You want to do this?” she asked, a little concerned.
“Yeah, why not? It’s not like I’m a princess waiting for her prince charming. I don’t even have a boyfriend. I mean, I have to give up my virginity at some point. I think twenty grand for my first time is a fair trade,” I explained.
Gina thought about it. “I can see what you mean,” she said and started creating my account.
There were so many options on there; like in one of them, you could choose if you would be open to being tied up by the man. Gina called it BDSM. I had never heard that word before that day, but I decided that I was willing to give it a try if the man who chose me would like it. As my profile came to life, so did my realization that I might actually go through with this plan.
A couple of minutes later, my profile was ready to go. It had my picture, preferences, and everything. All that was left now was for someone to notice me and give me an offer. Gina and I sat and fixated our eyes on the screen. Was anyone going to pick me?
Probably not, I thought to myself.
Suddenly, I heard a notification sound and saw a blue envelope on the screen. Could it be?
Chapter Two - Jackson
The flowerpots in my home office hadn’t been cleaned for a week and a half, and I was getting annoyed. Little brown leaves now covered the plant’s base, and for some reason, they were irritating the living shit out of me. It should have been handled. I shouldn’t have to ask.
I knew what people called me behind my back. I’ve been called petty and a micromanager by many, but I didn’t care. I didn’t become a billionaire by caring what people thought about me. I got where I was due to my insistence that people do their jobs.
