Paid For

We’d gone to so many stores today that they all started to blur together. Some, I couldn’t pronounce the names of, and some made me feel completely out of place. I’d get the strangest looks from the saleswomen until they saw Mason. Then their eyes lit up like they’d just won the lottery. Probably had something to do with the commission they earned off the shopping spree. Some of the places didn’t even have price tags on the items.

The whole time, Mason stood and watched me change from one outfit to the next. At first I thought it was sweet, how his eyes would never leave me. Then I started to wonder if this was simply what it was like, how he was with his mistresses. He had focused his crazy intensity on me, and I was sure every woman who had felt this before me loved it like I did. He said he’d gone through a lot of them. Maybe I was nothing more than something fun and new and he’d soon be done with me. When the novelty wears off, where will that leave me?

Definitely without a home, but maybe I can keep paying my bills for as long as this lasts. I know I have to try. Maybe I should Google how to be a mistress or something. Aren’t I supposed to be seductive? Because I am definitely not. I have no clue what I’m doing when he gets his hands on me. Thankfully he always just tells me.

The worst part is, I’m responding to it. I’m getting off on it when I shouldn’t be; I’m his plaything. He’s hired me to be his paid whore, but for some reason my body doesn’t care. In fact, it’s only making me hotter. The thought of him paying me—how he can do anything he pleases with me—makes my body throb with need. Something is wrong with me. This shouldn’t be turning me on. He made me suck his cock on demand, and I was too willing. Not because I was paid to, but because I wanted to. I wanted to please him, to touch him. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted him to make my body come alive again. Because that's what happened when his skin found mine. For those few minutes it was just us. We were only about pleasure, and the rest of the world slipped away. All of my worries and fears fell aside, and I was lost to him.

Until the reality started to slip back in. Like it’s doing right now. I stand alone in his bedroom. He rushed out the door and left me standing here, where he told me I’d be staying. Not in another condo or even another room. I’m to be in his bed every night. He made that very clear. In fact, he said when he got home, I better be naked in his bed.

What he didn’t tell me was what he was going to do. All I know is he got a call and was gone. A call from a woman, if my ears heard right. I hate how that made me feel. The jealousy that worked its way through me was almost uncontrollable. It’s none of my business. Last night, when I was lying in bed and wondering what I’d gotten myself into, I told myself that I should have walked out when I knew what being Mason’s assistant really entailed. That it was more than answering phone calls and taking appointments. I know I shouldn’t get attached to him. This is a job, something that will keep me off the streets and out of a shitty apartment where I fear sleeping most nights. This will keep my grandpa in a top-rate nursing home without the fear being unable to pay his bills.

The thing is, my mind and heart aren’t listening to each other. Something about Mason is drawing me in. The way he looks at me. The way he seems like he can’t get enough of me at times. But then the look leaves him like he’s flipped a switch. He can go from wanting me to dismissing me so quickly it’s unsettling. Almost like he’s mad at me for doing what he told me to do.

But what do I know about relationships? Around the time when boys started to appear on my radar, my grandpa got sick. He’d taken care of me my whole life and I was going to make sure I took care of him. If I wasn’t at school, I was with him or trying to make sure our lives wouldn’t fall apart.

I’d failed. I didn’t want to put him in a nursing home, even if it was a good one. My heart aches when I think about it. Looking over at the clock on the nightstand, I see it’s only six o’clock and know there’s only one thing that will make me feel better right now.

I grab the cell phone Mason gave me and my old worn backpack and make my way through the immaculate home. The whole place is decorated with art on the walls and furniture that looks like it’s never used. It’s a home, but it doesn’t feel like one. It’s almost as if the place is staged. It looks like what realtors do when trying to sell a house. Everything is in its place, but nothing is being used.

Slipping out of the front door, I make my escape from the fancy building. I still can’t believe it’s where I live now. I walk down the street a few blocks and to the bus station. I pull out my metro card while I wait for the bus, and then get on unnoticed, even though I’m wearing clothes that look like they belong only on a runway.

The cream-colored dress comes all the way to my neck and has short sleeves. The top is form-fitting, and the waist is cinched by a thick navy belt. Then it starts to flare out until it hits mid-thigh. I picked this one to wear because it came with navy flats to match the belt and I knew my feet would love me for it.

Once I’m at the right stop, I hop off and walk up to the nursing home. I give Larry, the security guard, a small wave and stop to ask how his new baby is doing. Once inside, I nod at the front desk nurse, who is going over a stack of files. She pushes a button to grant access. I sign in, asking her how everything is going before heading straight for my grandpa’s room.

I stop when I see him sitting up in bed watching TV. He’s in the same dark green flannel pajamas he’s been wearing for as long as I can remember. He must have two dozen pairs. His thick gray hair is combed to the side, and I follow his line of sight and see him watching an old western. We used to watch them together all the time. It was actually our favorite thing to do after dinner. We’d have ice cream and I’d end up passing out on the sofa. I lean up against the door frame and wait for him to notice me. It easier this way. To just let him notice me first. When he finally turns his head, my stomach tightens into a ball as I wonder what will come.