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“Fifteen hundred a weekend?” My eyes widen. I’ve been thinking of getting a job to take some responsibility off of Ayla and this chick is raking in fifteen hundred a weekend taking pictures? I can’t even spin around a pole in Austin and get that, at least according to the research I’ve done online.
Her chin lifts a little higher.
“What does that look mean?”
“I’m able to do four sessions a weekend.”
I slow blink at her, my alcohol-addled brain trying to do the math of that. “Six fucking grand?”
That’s legitimately drug-selling returns.
“Guys are paying you six grand a weekend to watch them jack off?” I’d fucking do it for half that to be honest.
“To photograph it,” she clarifies as she clears her throat. “I’m a professional.”
“I can’t believe there’s such a market for it.”
“Online pay per click website are all the rage right now. Since college athletes are restricted on what they can be given, they’re finding ways to make their own money. We have a lot of guys here on scholarships. When they have to spend all their time either working out, playing their sport, or doing schoolwork, it doesn’t leave much time for a job on the side.”
“You sound like an infomercial,” I mumble. “If you’re so in favor of athletes getting paid, why aren’t you offering your services for free?”
“My time is valuable too, but the entire point of all this is that while doing a photoshoot they mentioned Bradley.”
“They?” I ask, the plural of the word a little weird after what she just disclosed.
“Not all shoots are solo.”
I smile, my fist tucked under my chin. “Tell me more.”
Maybe there’s some trouble to be found on campus after all.
She shakes her head. “Not all shoots are boudoir either.”
“Boudoir.” I huff. “That’s putting it mildly.”
“Anyway,” she snaps, waving her hand in front of herself as if to shove away the distractions. “Bradley has bragged more than once about scoring with some of the women that leave the parties early. It was implied he doesn’t exactly take no for an answer.”
This sobers me a little.
“So the high-and-mighty athletes of Lindell University will warn the girls about him but don’t do anything to step up and make sure he doesn’t hurt someone?”
“They reported it to the dean,” she says, having a little more knowledge than she initially let on. Knowing Blakely, I imagine she argued the exact same point I’m arguing now.
Donavan would never allow the man to see the light of day again if he stumbled upon Bradley hurting someone. At least that’s what I’d like to imagine. I have limited knowledge of him regardless of how intimate we’ve been in the past.
“You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone about the photo shoots,” she reminds me.
“I won’t,” I agree. “But if you ever need a helper, just let me know.”
“You’d be okay with watching them do that thing in front of the camera?”
The thought of college boys getting naked and jacking off really doesn’t do much for me. They’re boys compared to the man I can’t seem to get out of my head. “I’d be okay with splitting six thousand dollars.”
“I priced it that high because I figured the first guy would tell me no. He didn’t even blink at the price.”
“You should tell them the price goes up next year.”
She looks away.
“You already did, didn’t you?”
She chuckles. “Next semester is booking quickly as well.”
A real laugh bubbles out of me, but it has more to do with the redness growing in her cheeks than anything else.
Blakely Corrigan would never put herself in danger the way I did tonight, and she sure as shit isn’t the type to allow herself to be dragged out of a party and bent over a bed by a stranger.
She was appalled when I told her what had happened between Donavan and me. She shed tears of fear when I explained what happened the day after and how we were held at gunpoint.
She chastised me when I told her how much of a rush it was, how thrilling.
Her response was… Jumping out of an airplane is a rush until the parachute doesn’t open.
“You have that look in your eyes.”
“What look?” I ask, closing them so she doesn’t have easy access to my thoughts.
“The one that says you’ve been looking for danger.”
“You do dangerous things.”
“I take pictures of hot guys masturbating. Not much danger in that.”
I lift my head and glance over at her. “I’m talking about the rock climbing.”
She scoffs. “It’s nothing compared to luring a madman from the shadows just so he’ll pay a little attention to you.”
I drop my head back down to my bed, my eyes angled up at the ceiling. She’s absolutely right. It is crazy to taunt a madman, but then again, how deranged can he be. He had me in his truck, and the asshole carried me right back to my dorm when he had every opportunity to drag me into the shadows with him. It’s not like I would’ve fought him, and maybe it’s that compliance that turns him off so much.
