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She listened quietly, then peeled a Post-it note from the pad on my desk and wrote down a name and number.
She said it was a friend of a friend, someone who might be able to give me some evening work; not a lot of hours and for good money. He might even be able to give me an advance.
My heart soared at the prospect of being able to do something to help my parents and keep my internship. Nadine told me all she knew was he had connections with clubs and high-end restaurants, and I’d be a hostess or something like that.
I called as soon as she walked away. He asked who sent me, and when I told him, he said to come to his office at 9 p.m. the next day, Saturday, and gave me the address. Said I came with a good reference, so he was sure he could help me out.
Nadine told me to dress like I was going to a five-star restaurant, so I spent the better part of today looking through clearance racks with my friend Karen until I finally found this red silk Calvin Klein dress that had been marked down three times. It accommodated my curves in a way even I thought looked pretty darn good.
Unfortunately, as it turns out, it wasn’t exactly the work I thought it would be.
When I met Mr. Salvatore tonight—no last name—he said I was exactly what he was looking for. He proceeded to give me a rundown of the potential monetary arrangements, all of which had my hopes up, and the hours I’d be expected to work. He then started describing the duties of the job, none of which sounded like hostess work to me. By this point, I was already starting to panic and look for the nearest exit, and then...he took his cock out and told me it was time to audition.
Fast forward to me running out into the rain without calling my Uber for a ride.
And now, here I am.
Soaking wet, in more ways than one. Holding the hand of this monster-sized man, whom I know nothing about—including his name—only that he hit me with his car. But there’s a feeling I'm getting from him that he’s responsible for me in some way, and as much as my rational mind tells me it’s insane, I have to say that I like it.
As he holds my hand, we pull up to the hospital. He looks over, and I see his face a little better in the bright lights from the front of the building.
He licks his bottom lip, then his front teeth, and I notice one is chipped, but it only makes him sexier to me.
“Sit tight. I’ll get a wheelchair.” He squeezes my fingers one last time then lets them go.
“I don’t need a wheel—” He brings two fingers to my lips and presses, narrowing his eyes in a way that tells me there won’t be any negotiation.
As I watch him move out of the car and through the sliding doors into the emergency room, I realize I've decided he’s probably not a serial killer.
But as my heart flutters in my chest and my palms sweat, I think...he might just be the death of me.
3
Vito
BY THE TIME WE PULL up to her apartment after the hospital, it’s 3 a.m., and Esme is resting her head against the passenger window with her eyes closed. The bright red lipstick has faded, showing me the cherry pink of her natural lips.
Her dress has long since dried, but while it was wet and clinging to her, I drank in every delicious inch of her voluptuous body. She’s from another age. The Venus of paintings that hang in museums have nothing on her, and for the first time in as long as I can remember, my cock is awake from its seemingly perpetual slumber.
During our time at the hospital, I sat with her and held her hand while they took blood because she looked like a lamb going to slaughter. When it was over, I didn’t let go, and she didn’t pull away. The way her eyes looked to me for comfort lit up something inside of me I’ve never felt until now.
We were quiet most of the time, even though I wanted to know all about her. But it wasn’t the time. It was too sterile an environment, and there was too much going on for me to give her the attention she needs when she tells me all the things I’ll need to know.
Because I will need to know.
At least I now know her name. Esme.
Just the shape of that name in my mind is making me hard. I also know she’s first-year pre-law at U of M. Sweet, beautiful, smart. Trifecta.
I did ask if there was anyone else she wanted to call, but she said no, and while I wanted to press her for more, I held back. She’s only just met me and doesn’t know yet what’s going to happen between us.
