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The move that may or may not happen now. Frustration swirls within me.
My plan was to move into Dad’s house when my lease is up in a few months. I’d live there, well, forever probably.
But with that last email from the estate lawyer, I’m beginning to wonder whether that’s possible. I pull up my phone, remembering that I’d noticed an email from him earlier but had been too busy with work to check it out.
I pull it up. I hadn’t responded to his email earlier in the week and he’s just checking in. He wants to know what my plans are for proceeding. Can I pay off the debt? Or do we have to liquidate the house? What’s the plan?
A lump forms in my throat.
Other than the actual deaths of my family members, this week has truly been the worst of my life. I was supposed to start a new job that would give me opportunities and enough money to pay off the house. I was supposed to move into my childhood home, reliving the fond memories of my family.
And all that seems hopeless now.
Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes for what feels like the millionth time this week. But suddenly, an idea occurs to me.
I sniffle, considering it. It’s laughable, really. Absurd.
But what other choice do I have?
If I want to keep my family home, I’ll have to make some sacrifices. Courtney’s offer had seemed insane at the time, but why? After all, she’s doing it. And it’s not like sex work is anything to be ashamed of. It’s work just like anything else. So what is it aboutmedoing it that freaks me out so much? Am I a prude?
Besides, it’sbarelysex work. It’s not like I’d be having actual sex with anyone.
I square my shoulders, suddenly determined. It’s an opportunity that has basically fallen into my lap. Who am I not to take it? Courtney said the money was incredible. I can’t pass up on it.
Before I have time to talk myself out of it, I pick up my phone and call Courtney. She answers after a few rings.
“Hey,” I say. “That job you were talking about the other night—is the offer still good?”
She laughs in surprise. “Hell yeah, it is.”
I take a deep breath. “Then I’ll do it.”
Chapter 8
I stand in the changing stall in the locker room, staring down at my attire—or, in all honesty, lack thereof.
Courtney had been thrilled to get my call. In fact, she was heading to work tonight and was certain her boss would be happy to have me start today. So, I gathered what little courage I could muster and met Courtney at thegentlemen’s club, as she called it.
I always thought that was just a euphemism for a strip club, but apparently I’m wrong. Courtney explains that a gentlemen’s club caters to a much more elite clientele, which is partly why she and the other waitresses get paid so well.
We’d gone in the back entrance, I’d met with her boss—a somewhat stern, older woman—who asked if I had waitressing and customer service experience. I told her I did, she gave me a once over, shrugged, and said they were short staffed so they’d hire me on for the time being at least. I’m not sure whether to be relieved or worried.
Courtney had led me to the dressing rooms where matching outfits wait for all the waitresses. I’d grabbed mine and gone into a changing room.
Now, staring down at myself, I begin to doubt whether I can actually do this.
I’m wearing sheer tights, a high-waisted, black miniskirt, and a pair of heels. No top. Obviously. That was the whole deal. The reason the waitresses are paid well and the reason why I’m taking this job.
I glance down at my breasts. They’re a small C cup. Big enough to be a handful but small enough to remain perky.
I really did think I could do it. I really did. But now my stomach is invested with butterflies, and I’m not so sure anymore. I take a deep breath, rubbing my temples. I think of my childhood home. Of how desperately I want to save that house. And as of now, this is my best bet. Especially considering things at my new job are iffy at best. Who knows? Asher could decide to fire me at any moment.
“Olivia? You ready?” I hear Courtney call from outside the dressing room.
I take one last deep breath and slide the curtain aside, stepping out. Courtney is in the same outfit as me, although she looks much more comfortable than I feel. I wonder if my nerves are obvious.
Courtney gives me a comforting smile. “Don’t worry. Like I said, the guys here are respectful. Besides, once you get paid—and see the tips—you won’t care anymore.” She laughs, twirling around.
