Allison

 

I hated hospitals. It was the white everywhere: Walls, sheets, uniforms. All of it. Even the little damn pills were white. Or maybe it was that constant antiseptic smell that wars with the sickness of the place. You can’t really cover up the smell of the dead and the dying, but you can try to bleach it out.

 

I hated the hopelessness of a place that mostly just tries to make your loved ones comfortable as they move toward a long, painful life and, eventually, death. But mostly I just hated that I’d seen the inside of this building for so many years now that I had the hallways memorized and I waved at the nurses, all of whom knew me by name. No one should be in the hospital that much.

 

But Bree was, so I was, too.

 

Today, I had flowers. They were picked out of the garden down by the park, so they weren’t perfect or cut just so, but Bree wouldn’t care. She’d love seeing anything with some color, something alive. And she wasn’t stupid, besides. She knew we didn’t have the money for frivolous stuff like that.

 

Pushing open the door to her room, I found her sitting up. There were several pillows propping her up, easing the amount of work her body might have to do, and she was staring out the window. Her face was youthful, but pale. There were dark circles under her eyes and her lips looked almost ashy. Her hair was blonde like mine, but limp and a little greasy. She wore it pulled back a lot of times, but today it was down. It told me that she probably wasn’t feeling great. She got headaches from pulling it back so often.

 

I knocked a little to let her know I was there. She turned to look at me, her face splitting into a wide smile. It made her look both better and so much worse. Happiness was strange like that.

 

“Hey there,” I greeted, walking into the room and closing the door behind me. “How’s my favorite girl?”

 

She rolled her eyes a little at me, but I could tell that she was pleased to see me. Not surprising. I don’t think anyone visited her besides myself and Christel. It wasn’t like she had any friends outside of the hospital anymore. “Good. Are those for me?” She motioned toward the flowers in my hands.

 

I nodded and came to sit on the edge of her bed. I handed them over, quickly scanning the room to see if there was an empty vase around to put them in. I spotted the old glass that I’d used last time. It would work just fine again.

 

She buried her face in the wildflowers and inhaled. It made me nervous a little, because if she had a reaction to the pollen or something… Well, that could go badly. Her body wasn’t in any shape to be fighting off diseases, not even little things.

 

“Awesome,” she told me, putting them aside on her bedside table.

 

“How are you today?” I hoped for a positive response, but that was foolish. She didn’t have good days anymore, she just had days that weren’t as bad as others.

 

Her smile dropped a little and she shrugged. She looked so small, so fragile for a sixteen-year-old girl. It broke my heart. “Fine. I got Gloria today, so at least that doesn’t suck.” Gloria was one of the nurses that checked on Bree and came if she needed something. She was a thirty-something with a kid of her own and she always did her best to be chipper to Bree. I’d seen the sorrowful looks she offered my sister, though, when she wasn’t looking.

 

“Thank god for small favors, right?”

 

She nodded. Bree picked at the sleeve of her sweater. It was soft and pink, a loose knit that was light enough to wear even if it was warmer in her room, but would help with the chills she was prone to. I’d gotten it for her from a secondhand store.

 

Frowning, I glanced from the fraying sleeve to her downcast face. Something’s not right, I thought. I knew when my sister was nervous. My heart jumped a little at the thought that maybe today wasn’t an okay day. What if it was bad? What if she was in pain? Oh, hell, did the hospital try to call me about something really bad? I only turned my phone on again today, and if they’d called yesterday…

 

Before I could let my mind run away with all of the horrible scenarios it was prone to come up with, I asked Bree. “Is everything okay? Is there something you want to talk about?” I didn’t want to ask if she was worse today. I couldn’t.

 

Bree took a deep breath and lifted her chin so that she could look at me again. She had the same brown eyes as me, a little too large for her head and lined with very fine, light lashes. “I… I think we need to talk about the hospital.”

 

Frowning, I asked, “What do you mean? Has someone been mean to you here? Is there someone causing problems? I’ll talk to doctor—”

 

“No!” she quickly interrupted, waving her hands to get me to slow down. Her fingers looked like bones. Letting those hands drop, she heaved a sigh and explained. “I was just thinking that… that maybe it’s time.”

 

My brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. Time for what?”

 

“For me to leave the hospital.”

 

I stared at my sister. Leave? What the hell was she talking about? I glanced around the room and back at the door, searching for some reason why she’d hate this particular hospital. She’d been here awhile so maybe it was just about a change of scenery, but not only was that dangerous, it was also kind of stupid. Hospitals all looked the same. Every last damn one of them.

 

“Bree, it’ll be expensive to switch…” I trailed off. I hated sounding like a financial adviser, or a mom. I was neither of those things, though I often felt like them. I’d inherited such responsibilities from my parents’ untimely death and sometimes it just sucked.

 

“That’s not what I’m talking about, Allison.” My baby sister looked up at me with those doe eyes and she about broke my heart. I saw in them something that was broken. And it wasn’t just her failing heart. “I mean, it’s time to leave. For good.”

 

I blinked.

 

Time to leave. For good.

 

The words worked themselves through the wheels in my brain, but I couldn’t seem to make heads or tails of them. There was nothing there that churned out a polite, to-the-point report about what kind of craziness my sister was talking about. She couldn’t leave; she wasn’t better yet.

 

Bree seemed to understand my confusion, because she smiled at me. It was tired and sad, full of pity not for herself but for me. I hated it. No sixteen-year-old should look at someone like that. “I’ll never get that transplant. Even if they find a match in time, there’s no way that we’ll be able to afford it. If I’m going to—” She swallowed and when she spoke again, her voice trembled. “If I’m going to die, then I’d rather do it at home.”

 

My body went rigid, my spine straightening until I felt tall enough to hit the ceiling. “You’ll do no such thing. No dying and certainly no leaving the hospital. I don’t know where you got this crazy idea into your head, but—”

 

“We don’t have the money!” Bree exploded. Almost instantly, the explosion was over. Her hand went to her chest, holding the spot above where her heart was.

 

I ignored the movement, because there wasn’t anything I could do. She experienced chest pains regularly and Bree knew enough now to press the button if she couldn’t handle it.

 

After a moment, it seemed to pass. I forced myself to calm down, though my tone was still firm as I told her, “You let me worry about the money. I need a little time, but I… I’ve found a way to pay for it.”

 

Okay, more like I had an idea about how to pay for it, maybe, if everything panned out.

 

But as soon as the words left my mouth, Bree’s head jerked up and her wide eyes fixed themselves on me. They were filled with skepticism, but hope, too. Lots of hope. Which told me all that I needed to know: My sister hadn’t given up completely. Not yet.

 

“What? How? Where are you going to get a million dollars?”

 

I swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “Just trust me.”

 

That hopeful expression on her face turned to splotchy red rage almost instantly. She folded her arms across her small chest and glared at me. “I knew it! Christel was right, this is you!”

 

I blinked. “What?”

 

Bree reached behind her pillow to dig out a magazine. It wasn’t one of the hospital ones, but rather an alternative one with a buxom tattooed woman on the cover. She was scantily clad in leather and her skin was riddled with tattoos, some beautiful, some almost grotesque. It didn’t look like the sort of thing I usually read, but the title was familiar…

 

It clicked just as Bree flipped through the pages, landing on an ad laced between two articles.

 

“This!” she said, shoving the magazine toward me. “This is you!”

 

23-year-old blonde female seeking man to take her virginity. Those unable to pay for the pleasure need not apply.

 

I said nothing, because she was right. It was me. I was going to follow through with it, I just hadn’t expected Bree to get ahold of the magazine. I hadn’t even thought about Christel, though. She was into those alternative lifestyle magazines. Silently, I cursed my only friend for warning my little sister. It was none of her damn business.

 

“I won’t let you do this,” Bree announced, sitting up a little straighter. She threw the magazine down in front of her on the bed, clearly meaning her words. “Not for me. Not for this.”

 

My eyes narrowed at her. “You don’t get to make that decision,” I told her firmly. “I’m your big sister. It’s my job.”

 

“Your job?” she asked incredulously. “Are you out of your mind? Since when did prostitution become your job? And that’s what this is. You know that, right?”

 

I waved away the prostitution comment, because it made my stomach churn. It wasn’t like I was stupid. Of course I knew what this was. I was selling sex. It didn’t matter if it was the first time I would have sex or not. Prostitution was prostitution and if I got caught… I shuddered at the consequences. But was it any worse than being stuck at a diner that didn’t pay me anything close to a living wage? All the while knowing that my sister was going to die if I didn’t come up with a boatload of cash in a very short amount of time?

 

No, I didn’t think so. At least this job would pay me worthwhile. Even if they only offered a thousand dollars, that was still a thousand more than I had. And more than I would have for only a little work.

 

At least, I think it’s only a little work.

 

I hadn’t had a lot of time yet to really think about the act involved with my little scheme. With absolutely no experience in the area, I knew things could go bad. Very bad. But I also knew that it couldn’t last all that long. Guys didn’t have that kind of stamina.

 

Right?

 

Clearing my throat, I tried to keep my voice calm and breezy. “It’s not like my virginity means anything,” I told her. Her jaw dropped as I spoke, but I kept going. “It’s my body and I can do whatever I want with it. My virginity is just causing a bunch of problems anyway.”

 

I was thinking of Shae, the bastard. How he kept pushing, even though I wasn’t ready. Even though I didn’t want to.

 

What a dick.

 

“Once I get rid of it, I won’t have to worry about it anymore and I’ll have the money to pay for your operation. It’s win-win.”

 

Okay, that might have been a broad view of my plan, but if I was upbeat about it, maybe my stomach would stop behaving as though I’d swallowed a dozen or so spiders. The truth was, I was terrified of meeting some stranger and giving it up to him. But I had also meant what I said: I wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore. I wouldn’t have to be nervous after this one time and everything could go back to normal right after.

 

“Please,” Bree pleaded. Her voice was small, wispy. “Don’t do this.”

 

I stared at my sister. She looked so… sad. Heartbroken. In my initial planning, I’d never intended to tell her about this. I would just appear in the hospital with a ton of money and tell her that some anonymous donor had heard her story. They’d donated the funds to pay for her operation, and she would be so happy that she wouldn’t ask questions.

 

Obviously that plan had been blown out of the water.

 

It wasn’t that I thought what I was doing was wrong. I really believed that a woman had a right to do as she pleased with her body, but I also understood that it was complicated. Sex could have consequences. I wasn’t worried about pregnancy and would make sure that whoever I ended up with was tested. But I knew that there were chemicals released when you slept with someone for the first time. Some people said it was the very basis of love.

 

What if that happened to me? Or to him, but not me? Either way, it could be disastrous. It made me nervous. But strangely enough, the idea of selling my virginity didn’t inspire that same nervousness. It would really be just a business transaction. Just one that would change my whole life—and Bree’s.

 

How could I not do this for her?

 

But I knew that look on her face wouldn’t go away so long as she knew what I was going to do. So I took the only way out: I lied.

 

Taking a deep breath, I looked away at the door and let it out. Then I nodded. “Okay. I’ll make you a deal.” I peeked at my sister to make sure she was listening. She was. “I won’t sell my virginity. But only if you promise me that you won’t give up yet. Stay in the hospital.”

 

“What about the money?”

 

I shook my head, then put my hand on her knee. “I’ll figure that out, but you don’t get to quit.”

 

Bree considered my offer for a long time. I could tell that she didn’t believe I could get the money— and if I were telling the truth, she’d be right. But she didn’t know that.

 

Finally, she nodded. “Okay. Deal.” She smiled a little and I saw her lie, too. She was agreeing only because she didn’t believe she had much longer. She thought she’d be dead so soon that it wouldn’t matter if she was in the hospital or not. That knowledge broke my damn heart.

 

I spent several more hours with Bree, not talking about anything really. When I had to leave, I kissed her forehead and promised I’d be back soon. As I closed the door on her, she was already passed out on her bed.

 

# # #

 

The first thing I did when I got home was check my emails. My deal with Bree had had the exact opposite effect of what she’d wanted. I was more determined than ever to save my sister, no matter what.

 

I was pleasantly surprised to see that I had a solid dozen emails in response to my ad. I went through about half of them in only two minutes, quickly writing them off as too crazy or too dangerous. The ones that were left, I took a little longer on. Some included pictures from the get-go, others asked for mine. A lot of them were from older men that could have been my father, maybe even grandfather.

 

The thought made me shudder a little. Definitely not what I preferred.

 

Of course, they’ll probably have the money to actually pay you, I thought. It didn’t exactly lift my spirits.

 

I was about to cave and accept that I was going to do it with a senior citizen when I came to the last email. It was brief, concise, but not necessarily rude.

 

Dear Miss,

 

Name your price and I’ll pay it. And I’ll pay more for the chance to tattoo your body. I promise it won’t be something you regret.

 

If it sounds like something you’re willing to do, please respond with pictures of your nude body. I need to know what I’m buying before confirming any transactions.

 

Ink.

 

Ink was the only name he gave and there was a picture, but it was missing his face. Instead, it showed a hard, hot body with cut muscles and tattoos spiraling over them. I felt a shiver of desire run through me for the first time in a long while. Maybe it wasn’t really him. Maybe that was the only part of him that was good looking.

 

But it was enough that I gave his request some serious thought. A tattoo? I’d never gotten one before, but then I’d never had sex before either. I decided that I would send him an email back, one with my price, and if he agreed… Well, then I’d have to take some creative pictures.

 

The email said only “one million” in it. I wasn’t expecting a reply again that night, but I received one within the hour. This one was as short as the one I sent.

 

Done. Pictures?

 

I stared. It wasn’t possible. In all my wildest dreams—

 

But it just wasn’t possible.

 

I had dared to hope that I would make enough that this would all be worth it. I had dared to hope for twenty thousand dollars, maybe thirty if I was lucky. Enough for a down payment to the hospital. Enough to keep me afloat. But I had never dreamed that one reckless night would cover everything.

 

It took me a while before I could move again. I sat there just staring at my computer screen until it went black, then I quickly moved the mouse in a panic, like I was scared I’d imagined the whole thing. But it was still there. He had agreed to one million dollars for my virginity and a tattoo.

 

Swallowing heavily, I looked at the only other word. Pictures.

 

I was shaking as I brought up the webcam on my computer. And that shaking didn’t stop as I angled it so that it could see me when I stood. Nor did it stop as I pulled my shirt off and dropped it on the floor. I kicked off my pants next, then hesitated. Even in the privacy of my own apartment, I felt nervous doing this.

 

It’s just a picture. This guy’s going to see you naked anyway, remember?

 

Nodding to myself, I unclipped my bra and dropped it, then shimmied out of my panties. I stood completely naked in front of the webcam. I could see my own heavy breasts on the screen and my wide hips. There was that tiny gap at the top of my thighs where the light from the kitchen shone through, making my body a silhouette. I turned a few lights on and off until my body was actually visible in the camera. I was about to snap a picture when I thought about what he’d done. Left out his face.

 

I angled the camera again, then set a timer for it. Three seconds later, I took my first nudes. I did a few more, then went through them to find the best one. I chose one where I was slightly off to the side, emphasizing both my curves and my smaller waist.

 

With trembling fingers, I attached the photo to a reply email… then I hit send.

 

No going back now.

 

I was about to get up and find something to wear to bed, when I got a response. I hadn’t been expecting one so quickly, but hoped it was… good.

 

I’ll pay more money – whatever price you’d like – for one additional thing: A weekend together.