Mr. Black transfers a quarter of a million dollars into my bank account within a few hours of our call. Now, I have half a million dollars in there. The amount seems mind-boggling and it doesn’t feel real at all. As for when the week actually starts, Mr. Black wants that to be a surprise. My job is to go on with my days, doing whatever I was going to do and he is going to surprise me. He’s going to call me and ask me to meet him somewhere and I have to comply immediately.

The idea of him calling on me, requiring me to be somewhere, is a huge turn-on. Of course, I would never put up with something like this in a real relationship. But this isn’t what this is. This is a game. He wants me on certain terms, and I give myself up to him on certain terms.

As soon as Caroline gets home, she is already planning her night. It’s a long process that involves an hour long shower and a careful pairing of outfits and shoes. She usually blasts the music and goes through ten outfits and calling me over and telling me that she has nothing to wear in her whole walk-in closet before deciding on the first dress that she tried on.

“Please, come out today. Pretty please?” Caroline pleads.

“Seriously?” I laugh. “I haven’t heard that expression since the nineties.”

“Well, you know me, I like to roll old school,” she says, taking off a perfectly fine red dress and changing her bra and panties before trying on the next outfit. “But, seriously, just come out tonight. It will be so fun!”

After a few moments of debate, I finally cave. I haven’t been out to a proper club in a long time. Caroline goes all the time, but I’m more of a homebody. That’s probably because her night doesn’t even begin until eleven at night, and I’m usually in bed with a steamy romance on my Kindle by then.

“Yes!” Caroline jumps up and down and gives me a big hug. “I just met these girls today. They came into the gallery and bought a hundred thousand dollar painting for their new apartment on Park Avenue. They’re loaded, of course.”

Despite how much money Caroline has, she is still properly impressed when other people have money. Seriously, I thought she would be used to it by now.

I head to my own room and rifle through my less than lavish wardrobe to find something suitable to wear. Unfortunately, I only have two pairs of club-appropriate shoes and two dresses. I guess I could go for a pair of tight jeans, but the weather is still relatively warm and I want to soak up as much of the warmth as is still available to me before the cold, dark winter descends on Manhattan. While looking through my clothes, something occurs to me. I could have actually bought that painting from Caroline as well. Not that I would spend that much on a painting. In some parts of the country, a hundred grand buys a nice two bedroom house, but it is still an interesting thought to consider. Wow. Me. Imagine that!

Around ten thirty, Caroline is finally ready. Waiting for her all evening, I managed to read half of a new hot romance that’s burning up the charts on Amazon. As an English major, romances are my guilty pleasure. I love to get lost in the complexity of the relationships and the steamy sex scenes don’t hurt much either. Caroline doesn’t really get them. She thinks they’re trash and limits her reading to what the traditional publishers like to refer to as literary fiction. The only problem with that is that she barely reads at all while I manage to read a few books a week.

We meet Caroline’s new friends at the end of the long line full of hopeful girls dressed in their Saturday night’s best. They are both blonde and bubbly and masters at walking on four-inch stiletto heels. I, on the other hand, feel like I’m going to fall over at any moment. The line is long, but it seems to move swiftly. The bouncers make their judgments quickly and anyone who isn’t the right size or isn’t dressed well doesn’t get in. Single men have basically no hope at all. Personally, I doubt that they’d even let me in if I wasn’t with such a hot crowd.

The music inside the club is pumping, and the room is sweaty and hot. The thing about clubbing in New York is that you can never bring a jacket or a coat with you, even when it’s ten degrees outside, because no places have any coat checks and it’s too hot inside to keep it on and too annoying to carry around with you. Luckily, the nights are still warm enough this early in the fall that it’s not much of a consideration.

Caroline and the girls expertly position themselves at the bar and wait for some unsuspecting male to buy them a drink. I’m about to get my own when Caroline stops me.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” she asks. “The cocktails here are fifteen bucks.”

That’s definitely not cheap, but at this point, I don't really know if I care to make conversation with some guy in exchange for the drink. My bank account is loaded, and my mind is occupied entirely by Mr. Black. It has been more than a few hours since I made the agreement to be his for a week, and I don’t know exactly when the week will officially begin. To say that I’m waiting with anticipation would be an understatement.

“It’s fine, honestly,” I say. “Can I get an Old Fashioned, please?”

That’s kind of a man’s drink, but the taste of bitter orange is enticing.

Caroline and her friends just shake their heads. It doesn’t matter that they are wealthy all on their own; they are not the type to ever volunteer to pay for something when a man can do it for them.

When my drink arrives and Caroline is chatting up a hot investment banker type at the bar, my phone vibrates against my thigh. I glance at the screen. It’s Mr. Black. The text says, meet me at Avenue A and East Second Street. In 10 minutes.

My heart skips a beat. I don’t know what’s there, so I look up the location on my phone. But nothing really shows up. Odd. The only thing I know about that place is that the Upright Citizen’s Brigade is right around the corner and I’ve been to that comedy club a number of times and always had a really good time.

I tap Caroline on the shoulder and tell her that I have go.

“Oh, no, why?”

“I have to see Mr. Black,” I whisper into her ear.

“Really? Mr. Black?” Her eyes grow wide and a big smile comes on her face. Clearly, my attempt to keep this info under wraps was not successful.

“Who’s Mr. Black?” The girls lean over inquisitively.

“I’ll tell you later,” Caroline says.

“No, you won’t. Because you promised, remember?” I say admonishingly. “He’s just a friend of mine.”

“Okay, okay, I won’t say anything.” Caroline waves her hand. I don’t really believe her, but I let it go.

“Have fun!” the girls squeal with excitement. I roll my eyes.

I decide to walk over to Avenue A and East Second Street instead of calling a cab or using Uber. It’s an unseasonably warm night and New York is at its finest. Within a few blocks, my feet start to pinch as I wobble along in my stilettos, but at this point, I’m too close to the place to bother with getting a cab.

Mr. Black is standing at the intersection, facing away from me. My eyes land on his perfectly pert ass. When he turns around, I see that his gorgeous body is dressed in an expertly tailored three-piece suit. Watching me approach, his icy cold gaze melts and a small smile forms at the corners of his mouth. I feel a crackling in the air that forms as I get closer and closer to him. It’s almost as if our bodies are putting off electricity. The sense of anticipation is deafening. When I am within an arm’s reach of him, we take a moment to examine each other. The man who is staring back at me is dark and dangerous and mine for the whole week.

I look up at his face and lose myself as if I’m in a trance. His cheekbones look like they’ve been sculpted by Michelangelo, and his dark eyebrows make a perfect frame for his thickly lashed eyes. His nose is prominent and strong to match his jaw and that mouth. My knees grow weak at the memories of what they did to me last weekend.

Mr. Black takes me by the shoulders and pulls me closer to him. When he presses his lips to mine, my whole body burns for him.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he whispers. Lots of men use that phrase, but in their mouths it sounds trite and boring. And like a lie. But when Mr. Black says those words to me, I know that he’s telling the truth.

“Are you ready for tonight?”

“That depends. What do you have planned?” I ask.

“Something very exciting,” he says slowly and deliberately. The tone of his voice sends shivers through my body. I’m not a big fan of surprises, but so far Mr. Black has gone far and above in giving me only the most pleasurable surprises.

He stares at me with such intensity that I start to feel faint. I’m not yet used to the power of his gaze. It’s both distant, cold, and absolutely scorching hot.

Mr. Black takes my hand and leads me into a nondescript doorway, which looks like it leads to a small apartment building. We ride the service elevator all the way to the top and when we get off, a substantial man with a clipboard meets us. He asks for our names and Mr. Black gives him his and says I’m his date. The man smiles approvingly, checks him off, and points us to the door behind him.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“It’s a private club.”