Laura

 

 

 

Today is the day that I’m going to lose my virginity.

I never thought that it would happen like this. That I would wake up one morning and know for certain that this was going to be the day. That it would be with a man like Ryan Hawkins, under circumstances like these.

That I would be paid for it.

I’ve been given clear instructions as to what will happen today. Everything up to a certain point is laid out in extreme detail. Just as promised, I was paid a substantial amount of money right after I signed the contract. He told me to buy something pretty for myself, something I could wear for him tonight. So I did.

I’m wearing a Valentino dress in velvet red with delicate Piaget jewelry and matching Jimmy Choo stilettos. I even bought a new handbag. He forbid me to wear flat shoes, and specifically asked me to buy heels. I’ve never worn high heels before in my life, and even though I’ve practiced walking in them in my room, I sincerely hope that whatever he has planned for me doesn’t involve a lot of walking.

This is by far the most expensive shopping trip I’ve ever been on. In fact, I’m pretty sure I spent more money this afternoon than I’ve spent in an entire year before, maybe even two. The dress alone cost me more than two months of rent.

I still haven’t told Layla anything, and it’s just my luck that she’s working again when I’m waiting for him to pick me up. I didn’t have the guts to say anything, not even a lie. So, I left a note on the kitchen table to let her know that I’ll be back tomorrow evening and that she doesn’t have to worry about me.

As an afterthought, I jot down, “I’ll explain everything later.”

Future Laura’s problem. Boy, is she going to be busy.

So now I wait. It’s a sunny afternoon, and I’m standing in front of my house, tensely waiting for a black limousine to arrive. I was given explicit instructions: I was told what to wear, what to bring, and to be ready at 4 p.m. sharp. He’s not going to pick me up himself, but instead he is sending one of his drivers, and he told me that I would be blindfolded for the drive. I’m to trust the person who picks me up and brings me to his place. The driver will lead me inside, and then I am to wait for him wherever that person leaves me.

I don’t understand why it‘s necessary to blindfold me, given that I’ve already been to his place, but maybe it’s part of the fun for him.

I hold my breath when I spot the limousine. The car stops right in front of my house, and my eyes are glued to it as I slowly walk down the steps towards it.

To my surprise, the driver jumps out just a moment later, hurrying around the side of the car to open the door for me. It’s a young guy, probably around my age.

“Miss Brown,” he greets me, all the while beckoning for me to get inside. “You’ll find a blindfold on the middle seat. If you would please be so kind as to put it on before we start our journey.”

The way he talks to me is so formal and unnatural that it almost makes me laugh. I’ve never been addressed this way. If anything, I’ve always been on the other side, playing the part of the servant who felt compelled to hide behind a wall of formality.

I wonder what this guy thinks of me. I’m sure this is not the first time he’s had to do this for his boss. He must think I’m a prostitute, like all the others before me.

The thought leaves a sting on my heart, and for a moment I wonder about telling him the truth. Would that make a difference? Probably not.

I climb into the backseat and find a piece of black silk cloth on the seat. The driver gets back behind the wheel and watches me in the rear mirror as I weigh the blindfold in my hands. Our eyes meet briefly, and even without him saying a word, I know that he won’t start driving until I put the blindfold on.

So I do.

The car starts moving as soon as the world goes dark around me. My fingers tighten around the bag in my lap, and I suddenly find myself struggling to breathe normally.

This could be the most stupid thing I’ve ever done in my life. Or the smartest. I honestly can’t decide which it is. Something is wrong with him, something must be wrong with him. I still don’t understand why things “have to be like this,” as he seemed so fond of saying. With how handsome he is and his wealth and power, he could easily have any woman any time he wanted. Heck, probably multiple women at once, if that’s what he’s into. Why pay such an insane amount of money for someone like me? I can’t give him anything special, and I’m terribly scared of disappointing him.

I never told him that I’m a virgin because I was too afraid of how he might react. Some men would like it, I know that. The allure of being a woman’s first runs deep in almost every culture in the world, but there’s no way for me to know how he feels about it. He might hate it. It might scare or disgust him.

Why didn’t I tell him? I’d feel so much better if he knew about it.

If this secret wasn’t looming between us, I could even look forward to this. The way he talked to me, the way he touched me - all of it was enough for me to know that I want this. I want him to show me what this special place feels like. Sub space, he called it.

I wonder if it comes close to the way I felt back then, on his couch. Was that what it will be like? Will it be different? Scarier? More intense?

I will know soon.