I didn't understand any of this. He dropped me off at my house and said goodbye in the car. He didn't offer to walk me to the front door, not that I would have let him anyway – too many possible questions if my parents were up and about - but… what the hell? I thought that after dinner, we would… well, we would seal the agreement. I would do the dirty deed, the nasty, the thing that I promised, and then this would all be over. Now he was stalling. Why? What did he think he was doing? Was this nothing more than a game to him?

As I got out of the car, my mind spinning with that very confusion, he told me that he wanted to see me again. As the words sank in, I couldn't help but feeling a bit of relief, a reprieve from having to do it, but then annoyance took its place. I was a nervous wreck already. I didn't want to drag this on and on… I wanted to get it over with.

Mainly because I was attracted to him. Because he was cute… no, more than cute. He was stare-worthy. I don’t think I could ever get tired of staring at his handsome features, even though it took everything I had in me not to. Was I really swayed by his good looks? I had read about him. He was a player. He slept with a different woman every night, or at least that's what was implied in the media accounts I had perused. Yet how much of that was truth and how much fiction? Didn't matter. I couldn’t allow myself to be tempted. This was a business deal. Not a romance. Not a relationship. It was just sex. That was all. So, no, I couldn’t allow myself to be attracted to him. This was a one-time thing and then we would part ways. Hopefully, I could make myself forget the whole sordid ordeal, the shame, the abject lows to which I was willing to go to save the house, to help my family. I wasn't ashamed of that, but of how I went about it. Still, I had no other way to achieve my end goal.

Had he tricked me? Probably. I should've known he would try to play his stupid games. Most guys were like that, weren't they? And in this case, I reminded myself again, he was a playboy, a man used to getting what he wanted from women. Maybe, even though his face was calm and considerate at the moment, he was laughing his head off at me inside. Laughing at my naivete and inexperience. Did he think I was trying to be coy? That I wanted to tease him with some special, wonderful thing that he thought of as a joke? While my virginity might mean something to me, and it did, it was probably nothing to him. My God, what a fool I was, to think that the gift of my virginity might mean something… something to him. And then the relief came again, because as much as I knew what I had promised to do, I had always hoped that my first time would be special, with someone I truly loved.

With a sigh, I paused in front of the open car door and nodded, then softly thanked him for dinner. Unfortunately, I couldn't rail at him, couldn't tell him that he was behaving like a bastard, because he wasn't, not really. Maybe it was my own suspicions that he was playing games with me that had precipitated my anger. I suppose it didn't matter. Regardless of the reasons, he now had me exactly where he wanted. I couldn't complain, because this entire deal was my own. If I pulled out of the agreement, even attempted to change my mind or alter the rules, I knew there was a good chance that my family would be destitute within a month. So, as much as it annoyed me, as much as it grated against my nerves, I knew I would have to somehow learn how to step up and play this game with him.

I walked to the front door, turned and offered a small wave as I slid the key into the lock. Once he saw me opening the door, the car pulled away from the curb. Well, at least he was enough of a gentleman to wait until I had gotten inside before he drove away. Games. I didn't know anything about games that men and women played, physically or mentally. I felt like a lamb and he was leading me to the slaughter. Why was he delaying the inevitable? Why put it off? His analogy about liver precipitated some deeper thought. Maybe he did want me to enjoy my first time. I scoffed, shook my head, and closed the door softly behind me. I couldn't ask either of my parents about how to play the game, because that would precipitate too many questions. I couldn't introduce Wyatt to my parents because they would immediately recognize his name – or him. He owned the bank that held the mortgage.

The house was quiet, my parents in the bedroom, the door shut, and I left them alone. It wasn't that late, so when I got to my room, I picked up my phone from my bedside table and called Sadie, my best friend. She works with me at the diner and is the one person I could fully trust with all my secrets, all my fears, all my concerns. I had to tell somebody about this arrangement or I was going to explode. I could keep secrets, but this one… I needed advice and I needed it fast.

I tapped Sadie's contact icon image, smiling at her profile blowing a giant bubble with hot pink Double Bubble bubble gum, shaking my head as it dialled. She had the evening shift at the diner tonight so I knew she'd pick up if her hands were free. Three rings later, she did.

"Riley, what's up?"

"You busy or on your break?"

"I've got all of two minutes left on my break." She offered a small laugh. "Isn't it a little past your bedtime?"

I grimaced. I was always tired, and on those nights that I didn't work the evening shift, I did try to go to bed early. Like eight o'clock early if it was dark outside. "I need to talk to you about something, Sadie. You working tomorrow?"

"Yep, the breakfast shift?"

"Same here," I said. "I'm filling in for Diane. Let's take our break together all right?"

"Sure," Sadie said. "I'm sure that Marjorie won't mind switching breaks with me, and if she grumbles about it, I'll even give her my second break, and then she can go choke down another cigarette. That should keep her happy."

"Thanks, Sadie." I disconnected the call, feeling slightly relieved.

Sadie and I had known each other since we were kids. Same elementary, junior high, and same high school. I don't know where I'd be today if it wasn't for Sadie. Maybe in the looney bin. We both had kind of a tough life growing up, her and my family were in much the same boat, financially anyway. Living paycheck to paycheck. Sadie's mother worked in the medical records department of one of the many hospitals in St. Pete and her father worked construction, which even when bustling and seasonal, wasn't always quite enough to offer them the opportunity to put money into savings. Her father, Frank, was getting older too, with jobs fewer and further between. No pension plans, no retirement plans, same as her parents. None of our parents had basic college degrees, but these days bachelor's degree was nothing. You needed a bachelors, a masters, or even a Ph.D. to get ahead. And with the cost of school tuition and books today? Forget it. Even the costs of local community colleges were more than either Sadie or I could swing right now, and we both worked hard at the diner, picking up extra shifts whenever we could, which was most of the time.

You name it, on beautiful days when it was tempting to go to the beach and lounge around, through the holidays, or with special events like concerts, Sadie and I typically filled in for the others working at the diner. Roger, the owner didn't care as long as shifts were covered and no one worked more than seventy hours a week. He didn't pay any of us time and a half or double time, but as long as we did our job, didn't screw up too many orders, and were there when we said we'd be, he didn't much care. He was a nice guy though, knew when someone on his waitstaff needed a break. At times like that, he would insist we take the day off and no amount of begging, cajoling, or bribing would make him change his mind.

I smiled, thinking of Roger, the old Navy vet who had saved his pay for years and opened the diner after he returned from Vietnam. Typically cross, mumbling one-word orders or replies, I knew that underneath that tough exterior was an old softy. He took good care of his diner, served only the best, even if it was just eggs and bacon, and his place was rated as one of the cleanest, most fairly priced, and friendliest diners in the neighborhood. And he didn't take all the credit for himself, either. For every one of the plaques on the wall, for every A+ grade placard in the window, he made sure to tell everybody who cared to listen that his staff was the best and that he couldn't have done any of it all by himself.

I readied myself for bed, trying to push thoughts of Wyatt from my head, even my reluctant admission that I had enjoyed parts of our dinner date tonight. He was a good conversationalist, he wasn't at all hard to look at, and he had succeeded in reducing my anxiety for a while, to make me forget what this deal was all about. In the beginning of the dinner, I had even been tempted with the thought that maybe he liked me, and… it had only taken a few seconds for me to scoff at my own wishful thinking. No way in hell would a man like Wyatt Cross date someone like me. Not that I wasn't good enough, it wasn't that at all. It was the fact that we came from two different worlds, with different outlooks on life, different expectations from that life. Let's face it. Wyatt Cross had his pick of women, and though I didn't consider myself bad looking at all, I knew when I was out of someone's league.

Within the quiet house, I plopped down on my bed, burrowed my head in my pillows and crossed my arms over my chest, staring up at the ceiling. Well, I had gotten a nice dinner out of the deal, but if he thought he was going to drag this thing on, I would put a stop to it. I would give him one more night out and if he didn't make his move by then, I would confront him. I didn't want to drag this on. After all, what would be the point?

"You didn't!" Sadie asked, staring wide-eyed at me.

"I did. I'm a rotten person, aren't I?"

Sadie touched my arm as we stood in the small alley behind the diner, a short distance away from the door that opened into kitchen, just in case Roger was idle and had nothing better to do than to listen to his waitresses gossip. Sadie stared at me, her expression puzzled until I recognized the expression for what it was. Part horror, part admiration. She shook her head, disbelieving.

"What's he look like?"

I dug into my apron pocket and pulled out my cell phone, scrolled through the images, and showed her a few that I had copied from a social media account. Sadie looked at them, stared several moments, eyes widening before she turned to me.

"That's Wyatt Cross?"

I nodded. She looked at me with a shit-eating grin. I knew what she was thinking. It’s not like I hadn’t thought the same thing dozens of times since I came up with this cocka-maimie idea. What would be so bad about sleeping with Wyatt Cross? My imagination had run wild on more than one occasion after that first meeting with him at the bank. What would it feel like to have those strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me close to his body? What would the texture of his skin feel like beneath my fingertips? What would it be like to kiss those lips of his, to feel his tongue inside my mouth? The sensation of his large, strong hands cupping my breasts, a thumb tweaking my nipple, weighing the weight of my breast in one hand and gently squeezing with the other? And what would it feel like to have my groin pressed against his, to feel his solid length, his desire for me…

I jolted with the images racing through my mind and shook my head, feeling like a sleeze. Would it have been better if Wyatt Cross was short, rotund, and average-looking? Had I only come up with the idea because I knew what he looked like, had seen his photos online? I felt a surge of shame once again racing down my spine, causing my stomach to tighten. How superficial did that make me? I admitted it and knew without a doubt that if Wyatt Cross had been a middle-aged man, unattractive, or less than completely appealing, I doubt if I would've come up with this crazy plan in the first place. So what kind of person did that make me? I had convinced myself that I was doing this for my father's sake, and I was. But the fact that I had acknowledged that Wyatt's appearance did play a role in my plan that left me unsettled and, to be quite honest, feeling more than a bit slimy myself.

"What a dreamboat!"

"Yeah," I replied, unenthusiastically. I had told Sadie everything about the arrangement with Wyatt, swearing her to silence before, during, and after. "Anyway, I can't help but feel annoyed. He's dragging this on. I want it done and over with!" Beside me, Sadie shrugged. I couldn't fathom her nonchalance. "Don't you agree?"

"Let me put it this way to you, Riley. He's wining and dining you, he didn't drag you back to his man cave by your hair and ravish you. Don't get hung up on your feelings. And don't forget that comment he made about liver."

I shook my head impatiently. "Liver! What does liver have to do with anything? I don't have to like the arrangement I made, but I don't want to drag it on, either. I want it to be done and over with so I can get on with my life, so my parents can get on with their lives, so that I can deal with what's coming with my dad's trial without worrying about…" My voice trembled and warm tears filled my eyes.

"You've got a lot on your plate, Riley, no doubt about that," she said, placing an arm around my shoulder. "But your dad's out of jail – what's happening with that anyway? Do you really think your dad embezzled, or fudged the books, or—"

My annoyance over this debacle with Wyatt transformed into serious, heart-racing anxiety about my dad's situation. "I don't even know what the exact charges are. I think the lawyers are trying to figure out what to charge him with."

"Has he said anything to you about it?"

I shook my head. "Sometimes I can hear my mom and dad talking quietly, but the minute I get close, they clam up. I don't know what to think."

"He hasn't asked you where you got the money to bail him out?"

I looked at Sadie's disbelieving expression, the frown she wore, and offered a shrug. "All I told him was that I managed to get a loan from the bank."

"And he didn't ask how?" Again the disbelief. "He didn't ask you any questions about it? About repayment terms, that kind of thing?"

"No, but I've kind of been avoiding him, avoiding the inevitability that he's going to ask me."

"Well, I'll tell you what I'd do if I was in your shoes." She offered a small giggle. "I'd keep the arrangement going as long as possible."

I stared at her, shocked by her nonchalance. "Sadie!"

"Well, it's true, Riley. Life's too short. You said yourself that your dinner date wasn't all bad, and that he did give you the impression that he was interested in talking to you. He didn't have to take you to dinner."

I reluctantly agreed. To be honest, I've never had the kind of attention that a guy like Wyatt had given me. I'd never been wined and dined in a fancy, exclusive restaurant before. But I couldn't allow that alone to sway me. The fact that Wyatt was so damn sexy, charismatic, and, yes, hot, should make me feel even more ashamed of myself for putting looks before substance, but there you have it.

It was at that moment that I wondered what might happen if I turned the tables on him. What if I tried to play him at his own game?