Chapter 1 (Alyssa)
“Yeah, you like that, you slut?” he says as he continues to plow into me from behind.
His words reverberate through my head and I fight back the tears.
Nope. Not even a little bit.
“Yeah,” I say, hoping it will all be over soon.
“Who's a little slut?” he asks before I feel his entire body spasm against me.
“I am,” I whisper. All while, secretly hating myself for how true it is and for putting myself through this goddamn scenario, yet again.
All in the name of punishment.
That's what I do, though...that's how I cope. If you could even call it that.
A few more slut shaming insults and a loud grunt later...my penance is over.
I leap off the bed and make a beeline for the bathroom.
I force myself to look in the mirror. “You only did it to yourself, Alyssa,” I remind myself.
I close my eyes as I run a washcloth under the warm water and proceed to clean myself up.
A moment later the door opens and arms wrap around me like tentacles.
I move my head from side to side, looking for a way out.
“That was great, babe. Huh?” he asks while adjusting his large framed glasses on his face.
I roll my eyes against his preppy, polo shirt and give him a smile that's about as fake as a two dollar bill. “Yup.”
I shimmy past him and nod my head toward the front door. “You can go now,” I remind him.
He looks puzzled, which only serves to annoy me further.
I swear, every time we have sex...he gets even more attached. I'm going to have to cut him off soon.
I decide to try the nice approach with him one more time. “Look, I have a job interview today and I really need to get ready for it.”
He laughs nervously. “Oh, okay. I was getting a little worried there for a second. Thought you were getting sick of me.” He takes a step forward. “When can I see you again? I really want to take you out on a date. I was thinking about taking you to the science...”
Ugh...the walls are officially closing in on me.
I cut him off before he has a chance to finish that sentence. “Look, Brock...I think we need to go over the rules of our arrangement again. This...” I gesture between us. “Is just sex. That's it. Once a week—maximum.” I walk toward him and cup his face in my hands. “You are a great guy...but I think this needs to end.”
Before he has a chance to argue, I continue on with my spiel. “It's not you, it's totally me. I just don't think we're looking for the same things anymore.” I give him a kiss on the cheek and walk him to the front door. I unlock the door and give him a little nudge. “I'll see you around. Have a safe drive home. Buh-bye.”
I slam the door shut and chain lock it behind me.
He's gone...crisis averted.
I fall back against the door...another innocent, harmless nerd prototype bites the dust before he reached stage 5 clinger status.
With a sigh, I walk back into the bathroom and turn on the shower.
I finish the rest of my shower, and study the clothes I laid out for the interview I have later on tonight.
I pull up my favorite tight pair of jeans over my hips and reach for my low-cut white top...made all that more pronounced by my black push-up bra. Then I blow dry my hair and apply a quick coat of lip gloss and mascara.
I shake out my long blonde hair and run my fingers through it a few times.
I glance at the clock and let out a curse.
Given the fact that the city's about two hours away in rush hour traffic, I'm running dangerously close to being late.
And lord knows, I desperately need this job.
After throwing on my favorite leather crop jacket, I give myself a once over in the mirror again and decide I'm ready to go.
I can't afford to blow this opportunity.
***
His dirt brown eyes skim over my body before landing on my chest. He rubs his chin and nods. “Very nice. Now, turn around and bend over for me, sweetheart.”
Somewhere very deep inside, my inner feminist wants to claw his eyes out. But then I remind myself that all I've got in the fridge is a container of moldy milk…and cheese that looks like it will make good penicillin soon.
But that fails in comparison to the real reason I need this job.
I turn around and do what he says while he lets out a whistle. After a few moments have passed, I assume it's safe to turn back around and my inspection is over.
He considers me for another minute or so and gives me another nod. “You're easy on the eyes, that's for sure. And you got a rockin' body.” He holds up a cue card with a giant number on it. “Think you'll be able to manage holding these up in the cage?” he asks hesitantly.
Seriously...is he kidding?
I maintained a 4.0 for 3 years while studying journalism and news-casting at NYU for crying out loud.
I flash him a strained smile. “Gee, I don't know, Mister. It looks awfully hard.”
He cocks an eyebrow at me.
Shit...I really need to learn to tone the sarcasm down every once in a while.
He clears his throat. “You and another girl will be trading off. You'll be in the green outfit and she'll be in the red.”
Awe, just like Christmas, I think before he continues with his sermon.
“And when you're not working the ring. You'll be eye candy for the elite members. You are to serve them beers, whiskey, whatever their hearts desire in between rounds. Got it?”
I nod my head. “Yes, sir.”
He gives me another hard look. “And if you do anything to draw attention to this little operation we got going on here, it will take them a week to clean your brains off the pavement.”
I shudder at his choice of words.
“Got it. The first rule of fight club is that you don't talk about fight club.”
He shoots me a look of annoyance and mumbles something under his breath that I don't catch.
“So when do I start?' I ask eagerly.
He reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out two scraps of shiny green material. “In two hours. Get ready,” he says before throwing them at me.
My mouth hangs open. “You mean, I start tonight?'
He leans his elbows against the desk. “That gonna be a problem for you?”
I quickly shake my head. “No. I would have just come more prepared if I had known is all.”
He extends his thumb in the direction of the hallway. “Down the hall and to the left there's a dressing room for the ring girls. There is makeup and all that other girly shit in there.” He glances at his watch. “In fact, Lou-Lou should be in there getting ready right now. I suggest you make nice with her. The only fights we like around here are the ones that bring in money. Not no prissy cat fights. Last girl got fired for that,” he warns.
“You won't have a problem,” I assure him. I make for the door when I abruptly turn around. “Um. So how much does this gig pay anyway?”
He chuckles. “Well, you'll only be working one weekend night, every two weeks,” he says. My excitement sinks with those words. “But, you'll be making $800 for the night...plus tips.”
I give him a genuine smile this time before I begin walking down the hallway.
***
Lou-Lou turned out to be nicer than I thought she would be. With her honey-kissed skin, full lips, small stature, and big brown eyes...it was easy to see why she'd been hired.
She flips her long dark hair over her shoulder and studies our reflection in the mirror before she ruffles my hair and winks. “We're like totally salt and peppa,” she squeaks. “The guys are totally gonna love us.”
Rein in your inner bitch and be nice, Alyssa. I remind myself.
I suck in my stomach and add a bit more bronzer to my mostly pale cheeks.
She gives me another smile before she takes a few steps toward the door. I look at the clock on the wall. “Shit, is it time already?”
She pops her gum and giggles. “No, silly. We need to take care of the fighters before the match.”
Say what, now?
“Take care of them...how?” She gives me a wink. “Use your imagination, girlfriend.”
Jesus Christ, I knew there was a catch.
Obviously, unfazed by my horrified expression she continues. “You're lucky. You're wearing green. That means you have Jackson...he's like mega hot. I mean, I've never been given the chance to try him out, but God, what I'd give to one day.” She playfully fans herself. “I'm stuck with some guy who's good looking, but dumb as a box of rocks.” She twists her hair around her finger. “See ya in a half hour, babes,” she calls out before she leaves.
I spin my chair around to face the mirror again.
Could I actually do...this?
I mean...what I do on my own time, is pretty much the same thing. Except I do it with safe nerdy guys. Guys who are into anime, and play dungeons and dragons in their mother’s basements.
Guys who I can control. Guys who will say and do whatever I want them to.
Guys who know about my past, but are just so happy to have a real girl to play with, they couldn't care less.
Guys who are really good at hacking computers and taking down certain things that always tend to pop up from time to time since that horrible day over two years ago.
I take a deep breath and calm the tremors running through my stomach.
“You only did it to yourself, Alyssa,” I remind myself, yet again before I stand up and begin walking down the hallway.
I open the door.
What I'm greeted with, is a sight I'm sure I'll never forget.
Tanned, muscular, flesh- encompassed by the body of an Adonis.
My eyes can't help but stare at the finest ass I have ever seen in my entire life. Two perfect globes...so ripe, I want to bite them.
I bite my lip instead as my gaze spans over his gorgeous back. Broad, sturdy, powerful.
I want to scratch my nails down that back, is my last thought...before he starts to turn around.
He briskly runs the towel through his short, dark, hair. “Jesus, Ricardo. Don't you knock anymore?” he barks until he looks at me.
I can't help but look down, but he quickly shifts the towel from his head, over to his package. Doesn't stop me from taking in his large, toned, thighs, though.
Confusion is splashed all over his face. “You're not Ricardo,” he says in a deep and raspy voice.
I shake my head. Still too transfixed by his body to speak.
My God. His abs. His abs must be made of pure granite. I silently count them in my head. Yup, he's got an 8-pack.
He clears his throat, and it's only then that I finally make my way up his body, but not before noticing the name scrawled over his left pectoral muscle in black ink- 'Lilly.'
Yup, must be the girlfriend...or wife.
I swallow my distaste over the fact that he obviously cheats on her, as I lift my gaze and take in his eyes. Wow, they're something else. Mesmerizing, stormy gray swirls that- I'm betting, would almost look dark blue in the right light.
The rest of his face is just as striking. Full, yet masculine lips combined with a strong jawline. Lou-Lou was wrong- 'mega hot' doesn't even begin to describe how truly handsome he is.
My gaze turns from one of appreciation to annoyance. “So, I'm guessing Ricardo is who you choose to cheat on your wife with then?”
He opens his mouth in either shock, or in an attempt to defend himself, but I don't give him the chance. “Men like you, disgust me. There's no way in hell, I'm sleeping with you now, asshole. You can forget it.”
He takes a step toward me. “What?” He looks dumbfounded as I back away from him. “Christ, there are so many things about that statement that's wrong, I don't even know where to start.”
I hold up my hands. “Whatever, I don't fuck married men.”
“Good thing I'm not married then,” he says.
I stare at him wide-eyed.
“Shit, that didn't come out the way it was supposed to. All I meant was that I'm not married. And if I was, I certainly wouldn't cheat on her. And furthermore, I wouldn't cheat on her with Ricardo- of all people.” He smirks. “Let's just say, he's not my type.” He looks me up and down, taking in my scantily clad uniform- which only consists of a shiny green bra top and matching booty shorts. “And I don't know who the hell you've been talking to, but you're not expected to fuck the fighters.”
“But, Lou-Lou made it seem like—”
He shakes his head. “Whatever you do, don't listen to Lou- Lou. She's very territorial, and likes to steer the new girls in the wrong direction. Just because she makes it her mission to fuck the fighters, doesn't mean that you have to.” He scratches his head. “Besides, if that was the case—why would you ever agree to do that anyway? Don't you value yourself at all?” he asks, his tone dripping with both disdain and curiosity.
“I—” I start. I'm at a loss for words. On one hand, I'm appalled at how judgmental he is - but on the other...he's touched on something so personal.
I open my mouth and attempt to answer him again, but instead...I reach for the doorknob behind me and book it the hell out of the room.
I run back down the hall and enter the dressing room. I lock myself inside the small toilet stall and fight back the tears for the second time that day.
His words echo in my head as I look in the mirror. “Don't you value yourself at all?”
I draw in a shaky breath and reapply my makeup expertly while I look myself in the eye.
“No, Jackson. Not anymore.”