Chapter Four
Devon
My little apartment was quiet in the morning save for the humming of my refrigerator on the other side of my bedroom wall. I stretched my hands over my head and yawned before glancing at the time on my phone on my nightstand. I had woken nearly half an hour before my alarm went off, which was rare for me. Usually, I slept straight through, what with being exhausted all the time from my studies and my job. But I knew I was awake because I was stressed. I couldn’t stop thinking about the sixteen thousand dollars I needed to come up with.
I stared at my ceiling and became aware of the slightest tingle between my legs. It started as just a slight sensation and was something I wouldn’t have noticed had I not been lying completely still. Then, it grew and intensified until I was left with a dull but desperate ache to be touched.
There was no one around to touch me. There hadn’t been for a year now.
That didn’t change the fact that I was horny, and the only thought going through my mind was that I had twenty-five minutes to kill before I absolutely had to get out of bed.
I rolled onto my stomach and pulled myself to the edge of my bed. I hung off of it and reached both hands under the bed frame until my fingers found she shoebox tucked underneath. I drew it out, popped the lid off, and revealed my small collection of sex toys. Most had been purchased for me by Heather. She knew how hard I had been working, and I knew she pitied how pathetic my current sex life was. She insisted I needed to take care of myself. She had told me that us women had a responsibility to our bodies and that we deserved the pleasure whenever we wanted it. I hadn’t argued with her, especially once I had used my favorite toy.
I withdrew the slender bow-tie shaped purple vibrator. It was set with two chrome sides for aesthetic appeal and temperature play. It was waterproof and cute.
I rolled back over onto my back and held down the power button on the vibrator. A bright blue light blinked at me once it was on, and I chose the lowest setting. My fingertips tingled as the thing began to vibrate.
That ache between my legs became even more unbearable at the sound of the toy. I awaited the sensation eagerly as I spread my legs beneath the blankets, making them into a tent. I brought the vibrator down and rested it in the groove between my pelvis and leg. My clit was too sensitive to start with the vibrator right away. I let the vibrations of the toy ripple through me, causing more excitement and anticipation than anything else.
In the meantime, I used my fingers to trace a slow circle around my labia. I never touched my clit. I was careful and took my time. I was so wet. I always woke up wet.
My pussy felt swollen. It was opening up and daring me to slip a finger inside. I did. My walls were tight and silky against my knuckle. I closed my eyes and curled my finger upward so it hit that spot I liked so much. I flicked in quick, come-hither motions and then pulled out, tracing my wet fingers up my slit to finally caress my sensitive clit. It pulsed beneath my touch.
I sighed happily and reveled in the glory of my own fingers. I knew what I liked.
I reached for the vibrator, which was still humming against my skin. I brought it down on my clit. I flinched away from the touch at first, but after a few seconds, I was able to run the tip of the vibrator up and down the length of my slit and over my clit. Every time I grazed that terribly sensitive little bulb, my breath hitched in my throat.
I changed the setting on the vibrator to an intermittent pulse, two short beats followed by one long one that increased in vibration for five seconds. This one was my favorite, and it got me off every time.
I pushed the vibrator down until the tip of it was at the opening of my vagina. I eased the head in, feeling the vibrations throughout my insides. My toes curled. I moaned softly. My eyes closed.
I eased it in farther, coating it with my juices and twirling it around in a gentle circle so I could feel it pulsing against my walls.
I was going to come soon. I could feel it in the tightness of my pussy. All my muscles were taught with anticipation. There was sweat on the back of my neck. My body was ready for the release.
I withdrew the vibrator and prepared for the final crescendo. I positioned the tip of the vibrator on my clit and applied the right amount of pressure. The first two short pulses were intense and difficult to endure.
The slower one, the one that intensified over five seconds, was positively delicious.
The two short bursts came again, but this time, they were a pleasant regression from the intensity of the longer one. When it came again, I moaned and bit my bottom lip. My back arched, and I tilted my head back to face the ceiling.
Two short pulses. My body relaxed.
I held the button down on the end of the vibrator when the longer pulse started. I didn’t want it to end. I wanted to ride it out until I orgasmed. The vibration intensified until my pussy was pulsing against it like a heartbeat.
Then, all at once, it broke over me like a wave. My breath shuddered through my lips as white-hot pleasure unfurled itself in my pussy and burst apart. My legs shook, and it took everything I had to keep the vibrator against my quivering clit.
It lasted fifteen seconds. When I was done, I pulled the vibrator away and lay still to catch my breath. My whole body felt weightless. I turned the vibrator off and hung my hand off the side of the bed. I enjoyed my last few minutes of peace and quiet before I braced myself to take on the day.
I went over the order of things I had to do before I finally dragged myself out of bed, shower, dress, makeup, oatmeal, coffee, and go to work. I sighed, eagerly anticipating my first sip of coffee.
I worked at Charlene’s Gallery, a beautiful, modern art gallery in the heart of Brooklyn. I had been the receptionist there for nearly two years now. It didn’t pay exceptionally well, but the hours fit perfectly with my school schedule, and it afforded me the luxury of spare time to do some homework on slower days and evenings. My manager, Charlene herself, was a bit of a piece of work.
She was in her midfifties and had owned the gallery for two decades. She lived and breathed her job, which I admired, but she prioritized poorly. I had seen her mishandle her staff on several occasions and had somehow managed to stay out of firing range when she was on the warpath.
By noon, I still hadn’t received a single phone call or had to greet any clients. I was bored stiff, and all I could think about was what Heather had said the previous night about working as a cam girl.
I plucked my phone from my bag and began to do a little bit of research. It quickly became clear this was not the job for me, as I had expected. I wasn’t willing to show my face, which it seemed would be an inevitable sacrifice I would have to make if I wanted to see any real money.
So, I took a chance and started searching for ways to make big cash quickly. Most jobs were topless bartending or serving jobs. Some were escort services. But then, at the bottom of the third page of my search, I saw an ad that looked appealing. “Have you ever considered giving someone the gift of a child through our surrogacy program?”
I clicked the link.
I was shocked to discover that couples paid thousands of dollars to young women who were willing to carry their child for them. I leaned back in my chair and began filling out the online form to request more information.
I could be pregnant for nine months and still go to school, right? I was a healthy person. I ate well, I didn’t drink, and I exercised. I would be an ideal candidate for a couple who didn’t have the means to get pregnant on their own. I could help someone who felt like they were missing out on something important in life.
My heart was racing. This could be my ticket to completing my MBA.
My phone chimed ten minutes later. I had received an email from the surrogacy company requesting a meeting the following morning at eight. I shot off a quick reply to confirm the appointment and then sat frozen in my chair considering whether or not I should call Heather.
She would probably freak out.
No, she would most definitely freak out.
I decided to refrain from telling her until I had more information the following day. There were still high odds that this wouldn’t work out for me. There was no point in getting too invested in something that was still a total whim.
“Devon,” Charlene’s high pitched scratchy voice called from behind me. I heard her high heels clicking across the marble floors as she left her office and came to join me behind my desk.
I tucked my phone away and spun my chair to face her while putting on my best I-don’t-hate-you smile. “Good afternoon, Charlene,” I said, this being the first time I had seen her all day. “How are you?”
“Fine, fine,” she said, waving her hand at me to stop talking. “We need to discuss your work ethic, Devon. It has come to my attention that you’re not working as hard as my business expects of its employees.”
She paused as if she had asked me a question. I hadn’t heard one in any of the words she said. “Um,” I said, considering what she expected from me. “What exactly have you noticed? I’ve been picking up the slack since you let Maria go last month.”
“Don’t bring Maria into this. You’ve just started slacking, Devon, it’s as simple as that. I don’t think I need to break it down for you, do I? I’m running a successful art gallery here. I have more important things to see to rather than sitting here and explaining it all to you. I don’t think my expectations are all that high. Be better. You’re representing my company and my brand.”
“Charlene, honestly, I’ve been working twice as hard to make up for Maria’s absence. Not to mention, you cut back on everyone else’s hours, so there’s no one here to process orders other than me. I’ve ensured you haven’t fallen behind on any of your client’s accounts, which is the job of a team of three. Are you serious right now?”
“Yes, I’m quite serious. And if you question me again, this is going to be a conversation we take into my office, and I will be documenting it.”
My eye roll was unavoidable. This was the kind of crap she had pulled on Maria, too. Charlene was incredibly unpredictable, and when she was bored, she loved picking fights. Drama made her little world go ‘round.
“You know what?” I said, standing from my chair and grabbing my purse. “Fuck this. I quit.”
“I beg your pardon?” Charlene stammered, crossing her arms and trying to intimidate me with her famous glare.
“You heard me. This job doesn’t pay well enough for me to put up with you. Good luck finding someone who can juggle all the shit I did for you.”
I slung my purse over my shoulder and marched straight out the door. The sunshine had never felt so good before.
Then, the panic at walking away from my only source of revenue slammed into me. Suddenly, there was a lot more than just my education hinging on my appointment at the surrogacy office the next morning.