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* * *
James ignored me the rest of the way to the Stratum. He ignored me in the lobby and in the elevator, opting instead to send out texts furiously on his phone.
That was fine by me.
I’d only been gone from the apartment for a little while, but it didn’t seem the same when I came back. It seemed colder, less inviting. Exactly like James.
“Where’s the dinner tonight?” I asked, willing my voice to stay neutral.
“This afternoon is actually the photo shoot, followed by a cocktail hour,” he said. “Evie somehow wrangled New England Brides Magazine into featuring the wedding in an upcoming issue. They want to get pictures of the families and the wedding party ahead of time. Then we’re going for drinks somewhere in the Leather District. I’d like you to come, of course,” he said.
“Of course,” I said. Anything he asked of me, I was going to do. I was here to perform.
He put down his phone and looked at me. “You seem like you’re being… accommodating,” he said. There was an undercurrent to his voice that tugged at me.
I shrugged. “I’m here to do whatever you want, James. I’m yours for the next nine nights.”
“Is that all I have left?”
“If I’m doing the math right,” I said.
He walked over to me slowly. I noticed for the first time that he was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, not his customary suit, and that he hadn’t shaved. He looked a little rough around the edges. It was only a few hours ago that he’d held me in his arms, his skin on my skin. Heat pooled in my belly as he approached me, but an icy fear circled my heart. I didn’t want to want him. I didn’t want to look at his big stupid biceps and the shadow of a sexy beard forming on his face.
He came close to me and then stopped. I froze in fear, worried he was going to touch me, worried that I was going to have to perform already, when I couldn’t even bear to be near him like this. “We have all day before the shoot. I have to make a few more calls, but then I’m free,” he said. “What would you like to do?”
I looked at him and shivered. Was it really only a few days ago that we went to the Red Sox game, laughing and drinking beer? Was it really only last night that he’d made love to me and run his hands down my body reverently? Things between us had changed so quickly that I had emotional whiplash.
“Whatever you’d like, James,” I said, hoping I sounded obedient.
“I’ll see you in my bedroom in fifteen minutes, then,” he said. His face was impassive, and his voice gave nothing away.
I wanted to run from the apartment, screaming. I didn’t want this. “Of course,” I said, squashing my feelings. I didn’t want this, but I needed it. Knowing the difference was what being an adult was all about.
That’s why being an adult sucked so hard.
I left and went to my room so that I could change. I chose some expensive lingerie that Elena had packed for me. I took a deep breath and calmed myself down. If a whore was what he wanted, a whore was what he was going to get.
* * *
The one trick that Jenny had taught me was to think of it like a movie. If it was bad, she’d said, pretend you were watching it and that it was happening to someone else. If the movie took a turn for the worst and got really scary, just close your eyes, she said. Then it would be as if it never happened.
I started pretending this was a movie right now. I needed this to be an out-of-body experience in the most desperate way. I put on a black lace thong, a garter, sheer black stockings, and a very sexy push-up bra. The outfit was over-the-top escort. I shook my hair out in loose waves around my shoulders. I picked out black spiked heels, and then I sprayed my mouth with breath spray about a thousand times. My heart was beating rapidly in my chest, but I ignored it, trying to get myself under control. I even tried yoga breathing, taking a breath in through one nostril and breathing it out through the other.
It just made me have a coughing fit.
Finally, I calmed down. James was not my first John, nor was he my first disappointment. I went down the hall to his bedroom, my heels clicking loudly. This is the part where the heroine shows the hero what she’s made of, I thought. But that was only in a regular movie. In a porno, this was where the heroine was about to get fucked six ways from Sunday.
I hated myself for it, but I got a little wet at the thought.
James was waiting for me in his room. He was sitting on the bed, still tapping things into his damn phone. He didn’t even look at me as I clicked past him to the other side and stood there, trying to feign confidence and indifference.
Finally he looked up, and I thought I saw a flicker of surprise cross his face. He quashed it immediately. “Don’t move,” he commanded. “I just want to look at you.” It was a good thing I was twenty-two and had a smoking-hot body, because this was happening in the harsh light of day. I took a deep breath as James came toward me, his eyes drinking me in greedily. I felt so exposed right now, so
different from how I’d felt last night.
“Well, you look awfully nice for what I have planned,” he said darkly.
“Will I do?” I asked, playing his game.
