Page 3 of Serving Him


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But once I got to the office, Maria assured me it was one hundred percent kosher.

“In Nevada, the laws are different depending on county,” she remarked smoothly, black hair pulled into a tight bun. “So long as both adults are over eighteen and consenting, then it’s all legal.”

I choked. Adult? I was a teenager, I didn’t even have two decades on this earth. But circumstances had forced me to grow up early, to mature fast, and I was wise beyond my years. So I’d nodded, ready to shoulder the burden.

“Okay,” I replied, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. “Okay.”

And Maria had been curiously kind. Although she didn’t say anything, the middle-aged woman could sense my nervousness, the unease in the air.

“Is there anything else I can answer for you, Rebecca?” she asked. “Anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

I bit my lip. The woman had described how it would work. I’d be auctioned in front of club members, my virginity sold to an alpha male who was rich as Croesus. I’d receive fifty percent of the final price, and given that there was a floor of ten thousand, that meant that I was going to make four figures at the very minimum. The thought made my body hum, trembling with nervous energy. We needed money so badly, five thousand would put us into the clear for six months as I worked to get this disability check fiasco sorted out.

But the thing is, I wouldn’t get the money right away. I needed to put in a week of service at the club, a week in the arms of a billionaire, letting him touch me, use me, taking my virginal body over and over again, until his male lust was sated. Only then would I be paid, and that wasn’t soon enough. We needed money now. Mattie and Nana couldn’t wait, Mattie was crying in his sleep sometimes with hunger pains. Whenever his sobs woke me, I’d jump out of bed to peer down his small form, heart pounding, but there was nothing I could do. If I fed him a banana now, he wouldn’t have one for breakfast. If I gave him some rice mush now, there would be no lunch. So I held back, tears in my eyes, heart breaking. My brother needed food desperately, and I’d do anything for him. So taking a deep breath, I began.

“I was wondering,” I stammered, picking at a loose thread in my skirt. Although my clothes were clean and neat, they were hardly anything special, faded and worn.

Maria’s eyebrows arched, perfectly penciled in.

“Yes?” she asked, pen poised.

“Well, I was wondering if maybe I could get an advance?” I mumbled, voice rushed. “I really need the money,” I said, looking down at my clenched hands, the knuckles white in my lap. “I know you probably don’t get these requests, but …” My voice trailed off. How to explain the dire circumstances I was in? I had an elderly woman and a little boy starving at home, and I was willing to steal, rob, even sell my body for them, I loved them so much.

Maria nodded, as if she could read my mind. Getting up, the woman asked kindly, “How much do you need?”

I gulped. I hadn’t thought it’d be this easy, so I swallowed heavily, mind trying to compute frantically. If I could have my way, I’d ask for ten thousand now and be their servant for a year. I’d lick their shoes if that’s what the billionaires wanted. But that was giving away too much too early. So I bit my lip and asked hopefully, “Maybe one thousand? You can deduct it from my final paycheck, I’ll return the money, I promise.”

And for the first time in my life, I was actually glad of my shabby skirt and blouse. The worn clothes underlined the truth of my words, how precarious our financial situation was.

Maria nodded.

“Give a minute,” she said briskly, disappearing out the door.

Left in the cold, impersonal conference room, I shivered once more, rubbing the backs of my arms through the thin cotton. What had I gotten myself into? Was I taking out a loan from sharks, was I going to have my legs broken if I couldn’t pay back the money for some reason or other? Oh god, this was probably all a huge mistake.

But all fear flew out of my mind when Maria reappeared because she had cash in her hands. The real thing, glinting under the lights, green paper with Benjamin Franklin’s face on the front.

“Here you go,” she said, putting the bills into an envelope and sliding the package across the table at me. “Take it as a gift from the Club, we won’t deduct it from your final price.”

And I sat back, eyes goggling, fingers hesitant on the paper. What the hell was wrong with me? We needed this assistance so badly, and now that the cash was here, I was hesitating? But something within me, the moral, upstanding girl, spoke up. I couldn’t take it, it was one thousand dollars, a huge sum. I had to make sure the Club knew that I was as good as my word.

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