PART FOUR
I STOOD IN the cold December air in a sexy but skimpy red dress. I’d been emotional, but that was no longer stopping the chill in the air from touching my nerves. The hair on my arms stood straight and I was on the verge of shivering, but I had to try one last time to get my date’s attention…to stop him from doing something we’d both regret.
“Shane!”
To hell with shouting. I ran across the parking lot in heels, putting the bulk of my weight on my toes to stop myself from tumbling on the concrete until I caught up with Shane just as he reached his car.
“Shane,” I said, feeling a little short of breath, but holding his arms in my hands, forcing his attention on me. “Don’t do this. It won’t solve anything.”
Fury darkened his face under the street lamp as two snowflakes landed on his hair, melting on impact. “It’ll make us feel better.”
I shook my head, closing my eyes. “No, it won’t. It might make you feel better for a second—until something else happens. This isn’t a permanent solution, Shane. You’ll know that if you think about it.”
“But, Ivy, I can’t just sit around and let this shit happen to you.”
“You can and you will.” I sighed. “I’m just going to move forward with my plan.”
“Your plan of not doing anything?”
I shrugged as I felt my body gear up to begin shivering. “It’s all I’ve got right now. But I’m talking more on the other end. I need to prepare for the time when those photos are found—come up with a good explanation and argument for why they shouldn’t matter. That way I don’t have to worry about it looming over my head.” I could see by his expression that he wasn’t buying my lame answer. “It’s a shitty situation, but I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.”
He didn’t like my argument, but the reluctant look in his eyes told me he was going to respect my wishes nonetheless. He touched my cheek before saying, “I only want to fight those battles because I care about you. Speaking of which, look at you. You’re freezing.” He pulled off his jacket. “Let’s get you back inside.”
“I don’t want to take your jacket, Shane. Then you’ll be cold.”
Draping it over my shoulders, he said, “We’ll be back inside in a minute.” He pulled me close and we walked back in the restaurant. When we got to the table, we saw the waitress and someone else, perhaps a busboy or sous chef, standing nearby, chatting quietly.
With a nervous look on her face, she said, “Oh. I thought maybe you guys were a dine-and-dash.”
Shane removed the jacket from my shoulders before pulling out my chair. “We just needed a little fresh air.”
“No problem. Please let me know if you need anything else.”
“Wine. We need more wine.”
And, as Shane sat down beside me, my mind raced ahead, planning a steamy evening devised to keep his mind off my problem—because it was my problem, not his…and so I needed to worry about it on my own.
* * *
Shane’s breathing was rhythmic and slow—in and out, in and out—and I only noticed it once the furnace vents shut off, the sound exiting my dark bedroom like an unwelcome guest. And even though his warm body held me close, I was alone with my thoughts just the same.
But because I relied on my intelligence—in fact, my future career was grounded in that asset—I knew I had to use my brains to figure out my dilemma. In the long silence, I determined that I needed to talk to Greg once more. Maybe I could work out a deal of free modeling for a year—underwear on—in exchange for his taking down the pictures. There had to be something that would make him budge—and if that meant I was modeling for free for two days a week for a year or something else equally ridiculous, I’d do it.
I could also hear my mom’s voice in my head, repeating age-old wisdom: A man’s heart is through his stomach. I’d ask Greg out to dinner, my treat, and pitch my proposition. Surely, we could reach an agreement—and I could take my life back.
That matter settled, I drifted into a deep sleep, relishing the feel of Shane’s arms around me, warm and comforting and something I’d needed more than I’d ever known.
* * *
I could get used to this.
Yes, I could get used to Shane and coffee while I whipped up pancakes, in spite of the fact that I wasn’t much of a cook. At his insistence, I was wearing his blue button-down shirt. That was a double score, because I also got to admire his lovely bare torso while I slaved over the stove.
I was staring at the two cakes in the skillet, watching the bubbles form in the batter, remembering how my mom had taught me to make those damned things. Wait for most of the bubbles to pop—and the edges need to be dry. The final test was lifting just the edge of one and taking a peek—and it was browned to perfection. So I slid the spatula underneath before flipping the first one over.
“Hey, I’ve been thinking.”
I smiled, turning the other pancake. “That’s my job.”
He chuckled as I turned. “Don’t get all sassy, just ‘cause you’re wearing my shirt.” I smiled, wanting to dash over and take his face in my hands. I felt giddy. I couldn’t remember the last time a man had spent the night with me and I had to admit it wasn’t an unwelcome feeling.
I was still grinning when I said, “Fine. Spit it out.”
There was something in his eyes then, something soft and mushy, but I couldn’t quite figure it out. “My mom’s having a big family dinner tonight—my brother and his wife, my aunt and uncle, my grandma—and I thought it might be nice if you came, too.” He looked down at his coffee cup. “Unless you have something else to do.” Then he lifted the cup and took a swig before making eye contact with me again.
That sweetness melted my entire heart. Maybe he was feeling a little mushy, too, just like I’d been. Either that or I was ascribing my own emotions and thoughts to him when I was clearly mistaken. There would be no way for me to know, but I had to stop reading into his behavior and simply take it at face value. That alone was good enough.
“I would love that.” And knowing I had something like this in my near future would give me the strength and courage I’d need to be bold with Greg…because I had a feeling I would be venturing into a dark place…
* * *
I’d called Greg right after Shane left my place—but not before he gave me the kiss of a lifetime. So I was riding a bit of a high when I phoned the photographer, and I used that floaty feeling to keep my voice light and calm. Fortunately, he agreed to meet for lunch, saying it fit perfectly in his schedule.
He seemed to be on the fence about it until I told him it was my treat.
I was starting to loathe this man, but letting those emotions show would not help me negotiate or plead my case. For the second or third time today, I could hear my mother’s voice in my head: You get more flies with honey than with vinegar.
Today, I would test that theory.
While I’d been upset and tense the first time I’d asked Greg to consider taking the pictures down, I hadn’t been sweet—and I also hadn’t tried negotiating. Maybe we could barter and come up with a value of all the photos I wanted him to take down; then maybe if I only chose the ones I thought would be indefensible—and perhaps if I could get him to chop our heads out of more of the risqué ones…I might have a chance of convincing him.
It was worth a shot.
The problem was, from the moment I said hi to Greg at the restaurant all the way through to the ordering of the food, he’d had a smug smirk on his face. What that meant I had no clue, but I suspected I’d find out soon enough. I wanted to grill him about it, instead choosing to keep the cool friendly demeanor I’d been wearing like chainmail. It was my only hope.
After the waiter whisked our menus away, Greg asked, “So how did I score lunch with a lovely model? What’s up with that, Ivy?”
I smiled then, reminded that Greg was no dummy. Of course, he wasn’t. He was running a business, so he had to have something going on upstairs. I had to remind myself over and over that sometimes the most brilliant—and, yes, shrewd—people would not be found on my campus. So, chainmail intact, I gave him the answer I’d been practicing all morning. “I’ve been thinking about my problem—the one I’d talked with you about recently.”
“The photos that have you nervous.”
He wasn’t going to play dumb. That was good, because it would serve no purpose. I didn’t want to beat around the bush anyway. I wanted to get it over with—like finally throwing up after feeling nauseated for hours. “Yes. I’ve been trying to come up with a mutually satisfying solution.”
“I’ve been thinking about it too, Ivy, because I know how upset you’ve been about it.” He grabbed his glass of soda and drew on the straw for a moment before continuing. I realized in that pause that my stomach muscles were tight and, underneath them, the butterflies were dancing away. “But you first. Tell me your ideas.”
Feeling a little more relaxed with the realization that Greg wasn’t some monster, I went through several scenarios, presented multiple options, including one where I’d pay him every month, just like a bill, or I’d model every month for free until the value of the photos had been reimbursed. I went through every idea I had, pitching them much like I thought a screenwriter might, hoping the producers would find one promising enough to pursue.
Throughout my “presentation” and long past the point where our food had arrived, I’d been trying to gauge Greg’s interest through his facial expressions, but he wasn’t giving anything away. I couldn’t tell if he was intrigued by my ideas or merely humoring me.
I found out soon enough when I asked, “Do any of those proposals sound appealing?” I thought about taking a bite of my sandwich now that I was giving up the floor, but I had no appetite. I was too tense by this point.
“Ivy, I love that you’re trying to problem solve. It tells me that you’re willing to listen to my ideas as well.” Why the hell did that sound so ominous?
I swallowed, trying to keep those damned butterflies at bay. “Sure.”
“I have a proposal for you that I think will be beneficial for both of us. Now, you realize first that I cannot ask my customers to remove the book covers already created with those photos. You and Shane had already signed consent and my customers purchased those images in good faith. This also includes images that have, as of today, been purchased but not used as yet. Those are things I have no control over.”
My stomach went from fluttery to sour, but I had to know. “How many images have you sold that haven’t been used yet?” I needed to know just how bad this was.
“Well, you know my site is automated. If someone buys a non-exclusive photo, I have nothing to do with the exchange. Only when someone wants exclusive rights do I become involved.” I swallowed another pool of saliva in my mouth but let him continue. “That said, I checked before our meeting and there are still plenty of views of those particular photos, but no exclusive shots purchased over the past few days.” I nodded, feeling some of the tension in my muscles ease up a little bit.
“But the proposal. Tell me again why you’re so desperate to get rid of these photos after modeling for so long—and being so good at it. You’re a natural, Ivy. You could be making a lot more money working with an agency.”
I sighed. I was pretty sure I’d told Greg this story before, but one more time wouldn’t hurt. Maybe it would be that appeal to decency, to his human side, that would win him over after all. I explained to him that the degree I’d been working so hard to earn for years now was just within reach, that all my efforts would soon pay off, but that I didn’t know that I could pursue my career—that of being a tenure-track professor—with those damned topless photos looming over my head.
As much as I’d considered myself an actor when in front of the camera, I had no idea what an expert Greg was. During my plea, he seemed attentive—and even caring. I was certain he understood my plight and empathized.
I’d been wrong. All that had done was help him realize just how desperate I’d become. Instead of bringing out the caring man in Greg, I’d helped him reveal his vileness. “This is important to you.” I nodded. “As I said, I have a proposal for you that I think will benefit us both.” As if to drag out the moment—almost as if he was feeding on my queasy emotions—he took another drink of his tea before continuing. “What if I took down all the photos where you’re topless?” After a second, he added, “All the unpurchased ones, of course, but also including the non-exclusive ones.”
I raised my eyebrows. That had been more than I would have hoped for. I’d been willing to settle for just the most suggestive and revealing—and, perhaps, the ones where my face was easy to identify. But all of them? This was too good to be true—and my widening smile might have said that plainly. I nodded, though, unable to speak.
My gesture was enough to communicate to Greg that I was game.
“Now I know from our first conversation that my monetary price is out of your range.”
I managed to squeak out, “One hundred thousand.”
He gave a small nod. “Honestly, those photos are worth more to me but I would sell them to you for that price.” Oh, how generous. I bit my tongue. Math wasn’t my strong suit, but I knew that, even without interest, I would have to model for Greg for free on a weekly basis for years to pay off that amount. And, honestly, I imagined people would get sick of seeing my face on cover after cover after cover. I knew I would.
But my brain was still on the offers I’d made Greg. He had something else in mind—and I needed to pay attention. He took a deep breath as a serious expression covered his face, shrouding his thoughts. “But you have something I desire more than money, Ivy.”
I couldn’t help it. I felt my eyes widen at his words. So much for being a poker player—and that alone likely amplified the fear and desperation I felt deep down, reminding Greg that he most certainly had the upper hand. I’d given him that power by not controlling my emotions. I swallowed, blinking, silently praying that Greg wasn’t the vile creature I suspected he was revealing himself to be.
His hand covered mine in an intimate gesture and I looked down. My mind was reeling and I was screaming inside for him to just get it over with. When I forced my eyes to make contact with his, I thought I saw a glint in them—but that could have been my imagination playing tricks on me. “They say that sex is the oldest profession.”
Why my voice chose to make itself known at that point, I would never know. “Actually, it’s prostitution.”
“Well, if you want to be so crass, okay. We can call it that. And, I suppose, given your intellect, I don’t have to mince words or be delicate, do I?” Was he making a subtle dig at me? With my emotions heightened and my nerves taut, I couldn’t tell—and I didn’t trust myself to be a decent judge of intent at this moment. “If you’re not willing—or able—to pay me my asking price, I’m willing to take payment in other ways.”
“Illegal ways.”
Greg sighed and started sliding out of the booth. “Obviously, you’re not willing to have this conversation, despite your pleas to the contrary.”
Desperation once more reared her ugly head and I grabbed Greg’s arm. “No, I am.” I closed my eyes and sucked down a breath, ready to swallow my pride and any morals I thought I had, along with my belief in the innate goodness of man. This particular person was playing as dirty as he could, and I needed to just get over it and agree to whatever he proposed. “Please continue.” Now I merely needed to shut my mouth, let him talk, and agree when he was done.
“Don’t worry, Ivy. We’ll start slow. I want it—” He placed a finger on my hand once more and began tracing a pattern over the skin. Considering the position I was now in, it took everything in my power to leave my hand still to allow him to do that. But I was beginning to revile him now—and he hadn’t even gotten to the good part yet. He looked in my eyes to emphasize his words. “I want it to feel as natural as possible.” I swallowed once more, fighting a feeling of nausea brewing in my gut. “So we’ll start with a little strip tease in my studio—a private show, if you will, just for me. But we won’t stop there. I’m going to take you in ways you never imagined and I’m going to do it again and again and again until I’m sick of you. And then your debt will be paid.” I could barely breathe. “I’ll even release those photographs to you in writing.”
In spite of the fact that my emotions were now in utter turmoil, the rational side of my brain kicked in. “You didn’t specifically say how long. I need to know that.”
His lip twitched. “I said until I get sick of you.” My stomach sloshed as a feeling of vertigo washed over me. Was this even real? But I knew it was. What I needed at this point—if I were to agree to selling my soul to this disgusting man—was to know how long. I could endure it if I could see the end.
And he knew that. He could see it in my eyes. “Well, you and I both have obligations we must tend to. I imagine you have things you need to do for your school and your other job.” I wasn’t even going to let him know I was at the point where I had to decide where I wanted to begin my career in earnest—and it might not be the university I was earning my degree from. Ideally, this bullshit would be done by summer so I could freely go where I needed—but I couldn’t give him more leverage by letting on. “Why don’t we say that I have access every night after, say, seven o’clock until two in the morning—can you agree to that?” I could if I knew it wasn’t going to be five years, but I kept my mouth shut and gave half a nod. Right now, I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that it meant I’d have no freedom—and only heaven knew what kind of kink this man was into. But I couldn’t think about that. Not at this moment. Seeing my assent, he continued. “Then…let’s say a year. By Christmas of next year, you’ll be done.” My eyes grew wide again but I knew a year was better than what it could have been. “Ivy, one hundred thousand dollars is a lot of money. Basically, I’m telling you you’re worth thousands of dollars a month.” His voice grew deep and sinister then, even though his eyes seemed calm. “I’m giving you a bargain.”
It might have felt that way to him, but I knew I really was selling to him everything I believed in. I’d have to get over it, of course, but he was ruining my life. My brain scrambled, and I knew I’d have to figure out how to put off finding another job—maybe teaching for the university here for a year if I could—but those were details I’d have to iron out on my own.
I had to seem amenable, because I had to agree to it. Heaven knew what he’d do at this point if I reneged, now that he knew how much this meant to me. So I nodded. “Okay.”
“How about we start on New Year’s Day—and we go the entire year? That should be easy for us both to remember. And, in the spirit of generosity, I’ll give you holidays off. After all, I’m sure you’ll want to spend time with family and such.”
I wasn’t going to tell him I didn’t do holidays much. Sometimes I’d visit a cousin out of state or something like that but mostly it meant I had some time off. That was it. Still, if it meant I could have a brief vacation from whatever hell this man was going to put me through, so be it. I forced my jaw to relax and extended my hand, almost ready to shake on it…but I just couldn’t. I wasn’t ready. “Can I have some time to think about it?”
Greg considered me like an item on the buffet table, finally answering, “Twenty-four hours. After that, I withdraw my offer.” I nodded, letting him know I understood, pursing my lips so I’d say no more.
If ever I’d felt like I’d been bargaining with the devil…this was it.
* * *
I didn’t know who I’d been kidding—Greg or myself—when I’d asked for time to think. My mind had already been made up before we’d walked out the door of the restaurant. I was going to do this.
I just had to get my head in the game.
Once home, I rifled through my closet, looking for something appropriate to wear to meet Shane’s parents for the first—and probably last—time. I felt like Scarlett O’Hara going to Ashley’s birthday party in the revealing burgundy dress, that I wasn’t allowed to wear anything “modest,” as Rhett would have said. No—I needed to wear something that would reveal my inner nature. Hester Prynne had to wear a red A for adultery. Perhaps I could wear a W…because I already felt like a whore, even though I hadn’t engaged in the act yet.
I would need to tell Shane. I knew that…but I didn’t want to ruin the evening. Meeting his family? That was a huge deal—I understood that—but I hadn’t felt a sense of family in eons and I was looking forward to that interaction. If Shane’s family was anything like he was, then I knew I’d love them.
The doorbell rang while I was still staring into my closet, wearing nothing but my lacy white matching underwear. Stupid. Choosing shouldn’t be that difficult. I knew I wanted to wear a dress, so I had to simply grab one and throw it on. How hard could that be?
But my strange emotions made me confused, indecisive, and distracted. I snatched my short pink robe off the bedpost, darting through my apartment to the front door. When I let Shane in, I said, “Sorry. I just need to get dressed and then I’ll be ready.”
Damn. He looked delicious. The hair he sometimes spiked for his gigs or slicked back tonight looked soft and touchable, perfect for running my fingers through—or grabbing and pulling. Immediately, my mind had to go there. And why not? My relationship with him was based first on sex, no matter how mushy I wanted to make it.
Yes, it was time to get real…because I was getting ready to be all about the sex.
But not right this moment. I had this one last hurrah, this one moment where I could feel like a real person for a while. I needed to hold on, enjoy the evening, and use that memory to sustain me through whatever was to come in my deal with the devil.
“No hurry. The smell of mom’s roast beef was driving me crazy. I’m a few minutes early, but I had to get out of there before I pulled up a chair to the stove and just started chowing.”
“That good, huh?”
“Out of this world. And the mashed potatoes…”
“Okay, I can take a hint. Let me finish dressing.”
Shane took one of my hands in his. “We have a little time.”
I paused, knowing I’d been ready to rip that jacket and t-shirt off him the moment he’d walked in the door. Frankly, for an orgasm, I’d be willing to be a few minutes late, especially considering it would probably be the last one I’d have at the hands of a man in a long time. Now that Greg had revealed his true colors and his selfish nature, I somehow doubted—in all the sick scenarios I’d already played out in my mind—he gave two shits how a woman felt in bed.
Well, how I would feel, at any rate.
Shit. I had to quit doing that. Tonight was my last hurrah and I had to enjoy it, needed to fully embrace it. So I smiled up at Shane. “Then you might want to take your jacket off.” He didn’t need to be told twice. “And maybe you can help me decide what to wear.”
The expression on his face told me he wasn’t sure what I was asking, so I backed away a few steps, but I loosened the sash at my waist, letting the robe do its thing. Continuing to walk backward, I ran my finger down my cleavage and grinned at Shane. When he smiled back and took a step toward me, I knew he’d gotten the message. I turned, pulling the robe off my shoulders as I made my way through my bedroom door. By the time I was standing in front of my closet, I was in nothing but those lacy underwear, having tossed the robe on my bed, and Shane entered the room, his jacket and t-shirt in his hand. He dropped them to the floor and approached me, and I turned my head to the open closet door.
As if he were posing for another book cover, he walked right behind me and pulled me close. Already, his cock was digging into my back and I felt myself respond, closing my eyes and leaning into his rock hard body, turning my head slightly. He wound one hand around my waist so that his fingers teased the elastic waist on my panties; his other hand he brought to the base of my jaw, encouraging me to turn my head more to the side. We kissed then in that position and just the taste of his tongue in my mouth made my juices flow, caused the rivers of desire to run rampant through my body. When he began pulling the bra strap down my shoulder, moving his lips to the other shoulder closer to him, I said, “The dresses are over there.”
He actually paused, looking up, and said, “How about that red one?”
I pointed. “That one?”
“No, the one closer to the middle.”
“That’s fuchsia, not red.”
In response, he licked my neck and worked his fingers into the now loose cup of my bra. Teasing my nipple, he whispered, “I think it’d look good on you, no matter what color it is.”
I couldn’t help arching my back to thrust my breast against his hand. I was ready. “I don’t think I like that dress anymore. The belt always rides up.”
His lips muttered against my neck. “So don’t wear a belt.”
“But it looks stupid without it.”
He removed his lips from my neck—my own damn fault—and then said, “Then the black one next to it.” The fingers of his other hand disappeared underneath the fabric of my panties, and I gasped as he slid his finger down my slit, brushing my overly sensitive clit.
I closed my eyes but said, “No. That one hugs my body too much.”
“Then you have to wear it.”
I wasn’t going to say it aloud, but no way. I was meeting his parents—and I already felt a little dirty. I didn’t want to go full slut tonight. There’d be plenty of time for that later—when I was doing it to save my career.
My mood threatened to die with that thought, but Shane was swirling his finger in my wetness now, rubbing my clit until my breathing grew shallow. His cock digging into my back was about to drive me insane. I thrust my fingers into that soft hair and we kissed again, the angle not feeling as awkward as before. By instinct, I began grinding into his finger, ready to let loose.
“Not yet,” he said, removing that amazing finger, leaving me desperate and on the verge of whimpering. I felt his fingers on my hips then before he pulled my panties down. In obedience, they slid to the floor once he released them halfway down my thigh. I heard him pull his zipper down and, shortly after, he splayed his right hand over my belly before pulling me into his body. The way his cock pressed into my back made it feel like he was made of steel. Oh, I needed this man inside me. I shimmied my backside a little in response, but he slid his hand down again, fulfilling his unspoken promise.
He adjusted himself behind me, positioning his cock against my ass while his finger began to work its magic again. I loved the direct stimulation on my clit, but I wanted to feel him fill me up, too, and I knew that angle would make me feel like I was ready to explode. I pressed my ass into him and bent at the waist. Then I shoved my ass out, making it impossible for him to continue his finger play. I turned my head to look up at him, and I didn’t need to say a word. I saw it on his face. He bent over to fetch his wallet out of the jeans bunched against his calves and in seconds was rolling a condom over his cock. I bit my lip, anticipating the way he would feel sliding into my wetness.
His hands on my hips felt like heaven as he bent his knees to get the right angle. In that position, I didn’t need to spread my legs wide, just enough for him to find entry. And when he did, I relished that initial foreign feeling, that sensation of fullness. I moaned as he began driving into me with a slow rhythm. As I sensed my muscles growing taut in response once again, I slid my fingers between my legs, needing to finish what Shane had started. My fingers found my clit and swirled against it, sending a jolt of fresh tension through my nerves. Another thrust of Shane’s throbbing cock into my warmth followed by my fingers teasing my most sensitive spot shot me close to climax. I could feel the heady rush of chemicals preparing to release themselves throughout my body, almost like leading a racehorse to the gate and preparing it to begin bolting down the track. It was then that I noticed my breath coming in shallow gasps, my thighs quivering in desperation.
And then it happened, my brain exploding as my entire body enjoyed the beginning of an amazing orgasm. “Oh, Shane,” I cried as another wave of pleasure crashed over my body like a waterfall.
He thrust hard then, pulling me close to him, and his rhythm sped up temporarily before slowing and then he released. He made a sound of pleasure but held completely still, holding me at the hips like he had been until the moment of pure bliss and complete release had passed. Like me, I was sure he felt spent, so I didn’t move for a bit until I felt him pulling out.
I shuddered, feeling suddenly empty but tired and happy. I stood and stepped out of my panties, thinking it wouldn’t be appropriate to meet his family for the first time with my underwear likely smelling of sex. “I wonder if my mom would have a cow if we just took a nap and didn’t show up.”
Grinning, I walked over to my dresser, pulling open the drawer that held panties and bras. “Think of your mom’s awesome roast beef. You don’t want leftovers, do you?”
As he pulled the condom off his softened cock, he said, “Damn. You know right where to hit me, don’t you?”
I started laughing then, sliding a fresh pair of panties up my legs. The giddiness was immediately followed with a pang of guilt as I remembered my meeting with Greg earlier that day, thinking about a man’s heart and his stomach. God…I’d have to tell Shane soon, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment.
Especially because he pulled me into another embrace and kissed me like the rest of the world was falling away.
* * *
I had that niggling obligation weighing heavily on my brain throughout the meal that night, but I allowed myself to enjoy the moment. I’d been a little tense, knowing how possessive moms can be of their sons. My one super serious relationship near the end of my undergrad days had come to a screeching halt thanks to my boyfriend’s mother, so I knew meeting the matriarch of the family would be a make-or-break moment.
I passed, though. The jury seemed out throughout most of the meal, but I listened mostly to the lively conversation amongst the entire family, laughing at appropriate moments and answering small questions here and there. I could tell immediately that I’d won over his grandma and father, but his mom was hard to read. As we neared dessert, though, she asked me about my future plans. The thought instantly brought to mind what would be a year of sexual servitude, but I had to look beyond that. I told her about my college career, how I’d been a student for so long pursuing a PhD, and that was when I saw an eyebrow raise, followed by a matching tilt of one side of her mouth. She was impressed and then began asking me questions about my favorite authors.
She and I dominated the conversation after that point, and it was lively and animated. I think we wore the rest of the family out, but I offered to help with dishes and the two of us washed and rinsed while Shane dried.
And it hit me, how I could get used to all this.
How I was starting to feel something deeper…like, if I continued to see Shane, it would be so easy for me to fall in love with the guy—and with his family.
Now, though, I sat in his car feeling wistful, knowing I had to tell him. I couldn’t keep putting it off.
He didn’t even ask to walk me to my apartment. We had already moved to the stage where some things were just understood. And how the hell had that happened, considering we weren’t even at a place where I’d feel comfortable calling him boyfriend?
But I couldn’t question it. It had happened…and, as we scaled the stairs, I tried to figure out how I’d begin that damned conversation, one whose imminence was making my stomach roil. The heavenly roast beef and mashed potatoes were turning sour in my gut, and I knew I had to just get it over with.
Outside my door, as I slid the key in the lock, I said, “There’s something I need to tell you.”
As we walked inside and I flipped the light switch, I saw it on his face. He was expecting something horrible, like I was going to tell him I was pregnant. It only lasted for a split second before he regained his composure, but I could still see it in his eyes. I asked, “Do you want some coffee?”
He shook his head. “No. This sounds serious. I want to hear what you need to say first.” In spite of his efforts to control himself, his brow was furrowed, causing a crease between his eyebrows.
His face mirrored how I felt inside. I would have rather spent this time talking about what was happening between us, that emotional, indescribable line we’d crossed over sometime tonight, where I was beginning to feel enamored of him, feel an attachment to him, something deeper.
Something semi-permanent.
But if I truly felt that way about him, I owed it to him to be completely honest…even if that meant we were over before we’d begun. I sucked down a deep, shaky breath, trying to figure out how to say what needed to come out. But I couldn’t look him in the eye. Instead, I focused on his shirt, finding my eyes drifting down farther as the words spilled out. “I talked to Greg. Because he knows how my pictures could hurt my career, he’s using them to extort…favors from me.” At the end, I just couldn’t say it. It was too ugly.
Too unreal.
“What do you mean?”
As painful as it seemed, I forced myself to make eye contact. A sigh escaped my lips, seeming to fortify what little courage I had. “I know I told you some of it…but I can’t remember how much. I’d never posed without a bra before—until the time you and I were first together. Even though it was out of the norm, I hadn’t thought much about it until I saw one of those photos on a book cover that was doing pretty well on Amazon. And then I realized if I could find it without trying, anyone could—and those pictures could damage my career before it even starts. As I prepare to defend my dissertation, I also need to begin a serious job hunt. I want to look at prestigious schools too, not confining myself to just what’s around here or something easy to get, based on my connections. And I don’t know how thoroughly those schools vet their candidates. I realize there are already a couple of photos out there that could ruin me, but I talked to Greg and begged him to stop selling the ones without the bra.”
I couldn’t read Shane’s expression, but he cocked a dark eyebrow over squinted eye. “That was when he asked for a hundred thousand?”
“Yes…and you know as well as I do that I don’t have that kind of money. And Greg knows it, too. He told me he’s making all kinds of cash off our photographs and so he couldn’t justify pulling them down. And I understand his point.” I swallowed again, wondering why my mouth was watering so much. “But I needed to make him understand mine. At first, I thought I’d just hope and pray those photos never surfaced, but then I realized that’s such a passive thing to do. I need to do everything in my power to make sure that doesn’t happen. So I thought about it for days, scheming, trying to think of the perfect solution. I came up with all kinds of options, like posing—with my bra on—for photos every week for free until I’d paid it off. Or asking him to take down the worst, most suggestive ones and chopping off our heads—at least above the lips—to make us less identifiable.”
“He didn’t take those offers, either?”
Shane sensed where this was going. I shook my head. “All I did was expose myself to his predatory nature. He knew then just how desperate I was. And he used it against me.” I looked down again but found myself closing my eyes, as if—like an ostrich—I could shield myself by not seeing. The pause was growing heavy and I knew Shane was going to start asking me questions if I didn’t just spit it out. “So he told me if I had sex with him for the entirety of a year, he’d give me the photographs and release them in writing.” No way was I going to tell him the ugliest part, the words Greg had said that continued to swarm around my brainpan, filling me with horror…the part where he’d said he would “take me in ways I could never imagine” and he’d do it until he was sick of me. I couldn’t even fathom what that meant, but I knew it wasn’t pretty. I knew he’d find a way to make me regret that decision every damn night until I was free.
As that fresh realization washed over me, I felt a piece of my soul die.
But I couldn’t let Shane know. I had to be strong. I had to let him know I was going to face this sentence with my head up and my chin out. It was only fair letting him know that I would no longer be available. And, really, did it matter? He was going to be gallivanting all over the country again soon enough. He’d forget about me, find a real model girlfriend, and settle down into the perfect life. Probably by the time I had those photographs and the release in hand and started packing my bags for whatever school would finally take me after waiting half a year to apply, I’d be a distant memory in Shane’s head.
I knew it was better that way.
Examining his eyes, I could see defeat. It was like watching a plant shrivel and die, withering in front of my very eyes. “And you agreed to it.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice, Ivy.”
I shook my head and looked down, sensing imminent tears. “Yeah. I could choose to waste my education and instead work at the coffee shop the rest of my life. Oh, and model until my body and face no longer sustain me, and I better hope those last till my student loans are paid off.” I looked up then, feeling a little resentful. It was easy for him to judge—he had a perfect family, a solid vocation, and an old and lucrative career he could run back to anytime he chose. My entire life hung in the balance, my entire future in question.
His voice was softer then. “So you’re going to do it?”
I cemented my resolve deep inside, willing back the emotions threatening to consume me. “You might think I have a choice, but I don’t. I’ve exhausted any other potential options.”
I could see the hurt in Shane’s eyes, too, but then I saw it turn off, like a light fading to black. He was distancing himself from me while I watched, shutting himself off, protecting his heart. I guessed I really couldn’t blame him. “So you’ve already…” He blinked. “Have you already agreed to this? You knew earlier tonight that you were going to do this but let me believe—”
I shook my head. “I haven’t told him yet—that I agreed to it. I have to go over there tomorrow and negotiate—if that’s even what you’d call agreeing to blackmail.”
To have said Shane was devastated would have been an understatement. Seeing how he fought his emotions to stay cool and calm told me he’d been feeling about me the same way I’d been feeling about him—and I’d just crushed us. I’d ruined us before we could even start. His jaw rippled but then he forced himself to speak. “Well, then, best of luck, Ivy. I, uh…I hope you have a good life.”
That was it? After everything, Shane was going to throw away amazing sex and a budding relationship in the blink of an eye? No, I didn’t blame him. Logically, it made perfect sense, but for him to be able to shut himself off like that without a second thought…well, it made me realize that I was doing the right thing. I was the only person I could fully rely on in the world, and I had but to fortify myself to survive the next year intact.
I relaxed my pursed lips to answer. “You, too, Shane. Best of luck.”
No hug. No embrace. No apologies.
As my door clicked closed, the tears began to fall, subsiding sometime after midnight when my body finally gave in to merciful sleep.
* * *
I might have drifted off eventually, but that didn’t mean there was anything peaceful about it. I didn’t feel rested at all the next morning, and I didn’t know that makeup could cover all the sins of sobbing and sleeplessness.
I didn’t have to work at the coffee shop that morning, so I decided to go to Greg’s studio as soon as he opened to just get it all over with. I’d already resolved to dance with the devil, so I might as well get started.
It began with lots of concealer and foundation, dark and heavy eyeliner, and extra blush on my pale cheeks followed with the rest of my regular makeup routine. Dressing was another ordeal. In spite of the fact that I was signing up to be a sex slave, I wanted nothing that was suggestive today. Knowing Greg, he’d have me in all manner of suggestive outfits soon enough. This was my last chance to be respectful and demure—I was going to take it. Jeans, boots, and an oversized sweater made me almost feel like I’d donned chainmail.
As I drove to Greg’s studio, I had a fleeting thought that he’d have an agreement for me to sign, much like the contracts/ releases I signed every time I’d modeled for him, but, of course, he wouldn’t. That would be evidence of blackmail. No, he was the one with the leverage—the contract would be to protect my interests, and it was obvious he had no concern over my well-being.
When I arrived, he was already there but the door was locked. I rang the bell, wondering if maybe he’d chosen to close a few days around the holidays, but he showed up at the door after a couple of seconds.
“Ivy…what a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
Ugh. What an ass. He had to know how miserable this was for me, didn’t he? “You gave me twenty-four hours…so I’m here to give you an answer.”
He cocked an eyebrow as I stepped inside the warm studio. Like a gentleman, he came around behind me to remove my coat. As much as I wanted to protest, I told myself I’d have to get used to whatever he did, so I finagled my purse while I allowed him to hang my coat on the rack in the corner. “And where’s your phone?”
An odd question, but simple enough to answer. “Here.” I reached in my purse.
“Mind if I look at it?”
What the hell was he going to do? I sucked a deep breath in through my nostrils before I handed it over. If he broke it or did anything stupid, I was going to have to rethink all this. But he clicked a button and saw that it was locked. “Mind keying in your passcode?” He handed me the phone and I did as instructed. “I just want to make sure you’re not doing anything foolish, like recording our conversation.” I let him take it from me again, wondering why I hadn’t even considered doing something like that. Getting him in trouble with the law for illegal activities might have been my escape from what was surely going to be a year-long nightmare.
Once he was satisfied that I wasn’t recording us, he said, “So you’ve made your decision?”
I nodded as a queasy feeling settled in the pit of my gut. “I have. I just have one question.”
“What’s that?” His lips curled up at the corners as I realized he already knew what my answer was going to be.
“How can I be sure you’ll do everything you’ve said you’re going to do? How can I know I can trust you?”
His expression changed, a shadow seeming to enshroud it for a moment, but then the façade was back up in place when he answered. “I suppose you can’t, can you? We’ll have nothing in writing. All you have is my word.” He ran his tongue along his teeth. “You know what? As a gesture of good faith, I’ll take down one of my exclusive photos right now—and you can watch. Would that help ease your fears?”
Hell, no, but my fears went deeper than merely hoping I could trust Greg to keep his end of the bargain. Lots deeper. I wasn’t going to say so, though, because I supposed this “act of faith” was more than I could have hoped for. “I suppose.”
I followed him into his office and stood behind him as he sat at his desk and clicked on his mouse. His website was already open in one of the tabs in the browser, and he clicked a couple of links until we were on a page with pictures of Shane and me. Seeing all the poses, the different lighting, various stages of dress and undress brought that day back to me, that day when I’d sealed my fate, possibly ruining the remainder of my life.
No, that wasn’t putting too fine a point on it.
He landed on one that was particularly suggestive—and damning. Yes, he knew exactly how badly these photos could ruin my career in the hands of the right people. I was looking at a picture on a dark background. Shane’s face couldn’t be seen—just his jaw. My face, though turned to the side, was recognizable, and I looked lusty, an expression I’d been able to conjure up for many a photo shoot, but as I recalled, part of that wasn’t acting that day. It didn’t matter, though. The worst part was that I was topless, my body turned toward the camera. Shane’s body was shielded by mine as he stood behind me, his large hands emerging from behind, cupping my breasts almost like a makeshift bra. “How about that one?”
Yeah, that would be a great start. I nodded, and Greg clicked on a different tab. He moved quickly, clicking with precision, and after a few seconds, he clicked back on the website tab and refreshed the screen. Scrolling down, he showed me that that particular photo was no longer on his website.
I knew the photo was still available should he choose to put it back up on the website; I was going to have to trust him—a difficult place for me, considering the position he’d put me in. That said, it was a gesture of good faith, as he’d called it, and I’d have to learn to trust him as much as I could. “I’ll take down one photo every month and then, at the end of the year, they’ll all come down. Does that help?”
Not really, but I wasn’t going to say that. Instead, I nodded again, as though I’d forgotten how to speak.
“But tit for tat. How do I know you’ll follow through with your end of the bargain?”
I wasn’t thinking clearly or I would have immediately countered with an argument that, unlike me, he had nothing to lose in the bargain. He knew as well as I did that if I didn’t follow through, he still had the photos—and even the one he’d just now taken down he could probably restore with a couple of quick clicks. My position was tenuous, though, and I feared that arguing wouldn’t benefit me, so I instead just raised my eyebrows and shook my head, letting him know that I didn’t have a good answer.
He sneered then and I felt my eyes narrow as I tried desperately to interpret his body language. “We could start now. That, for me, would be a solid indication that you’re on board and willing to do your part.” My body grew tense, knowing that meant but one thing—I’d have to give it over to him and let him have his way with me.
At this point, I merely prayed he wouldn’t expect me to kiss him. That would be next to impossible right now.
He got closer to me but kept his hands off for the moment. Cocking an eyebrow, he said, “Are you willing to start now? Your gesture of good faith?”
I believed I didn’t have much of a choice. If I said no, I would have expected him to restore the photo he’d just taken down back to its former spot on his website. In that aspect, I was already ahead today and, perhaps, if he was happy with our arrangement, I could later talk him into taking down more photos sooner rather than later. And I could spend the next month coming up with a game plan—one for securing a job for the future, coming up with a good explanation as to why I hadn’t applied before completing the dissertation process and that sort of thing.
So I nodded, unable to say it. I just didn’t have it inside me to speak the words.
“Come with me.” In less than a minute, we were inside the back area of the studio, in the space where most of the questionable photos had been taken. I glanced around, trying to ensure that there were no cameras ready to snap new photos of me in compromising positions. His mind was on my previous photo sessions as well, evident by his next words. “I have an eye for art and can keep my head in the game when I’m snapping photos, but that doesn’t mean that later on I’m not thinking about a session in a less-than-professional way.” He got closer to me and brushed the hair on my right side behind my shoulder, his fingers grazing my skin. If that had been Shane, I would have felt like I was on fire, as though my entire world revolved around that moment. But this was Greg, the apparently perverted photographer who’d been wanting to get his fingers in my pants for a long time and had found a way to coerce me into it.
He brought his lips to my ears and I felt myself shudder—not with desire but with repulsion.
“You are so goddamned beautiful, Ivy. From your almond eyes to the curve of your hips and the way you speak to the camera, you’re one of those rare creatures who says more with her body than she knows.” I could feel his hot breath against my neck and I braced myself to feel him touch me. It was a moment I’d been dreading since I’d considered moving forward with this agreement, and I knew the first touch would be the worst. After that, I’d find a way to grow used to it.
He couldn’t see my face but I wanted to be sure I wasn’t giving anything away, just in case he happened to look, so I closed my eyes. He wrapped his hands around my upper arms and I managed that okay, understanding then that it was the touch of his mouth on me that I dreaded the most.
But instead of feeling his lips caress my neck or ears, I heard a sound that touched me like music. “Get your filthy fucking hands off her right this instant.”
That was Shane. I opened my eyes, not fully understanding why he was there or what he was doing. Words once more escaped me but Greg had no problem speaking. “What the hell are you doing here, Shane?”
“That’s my woman there, and you’re not going to lay a hand on her.”
“Oh, you’re wrong. She belongs to me now, and I’m getting ready to take what’s mine.”
Shane got closer and looked at me. “Are you okay, Ivy?”
I blinked. My heart had just expanded to fill my chest cavity, filled with love and adoration for this man, but this gesture wouldn’t help my cause. I gave him a quick nod, letting him know I was all right and, I hoped, communicating that I was there willingly. His eyes left mine, though, as he reached into his jacket pocket. Then he flung two stacks to the floor that made a strange sound as they impacted the concrete beneath our feet. My mind wasn’t registering what was happening, so I stared at the floor, trying to wrap my mind around what was I was seeing.
“There’s twenty-thousand right now. The total for you to take down all her pictures is one-hundred thousand, right?” I swallowed, realizing finally what was happening. “The rest I’ll bring later in the week.”
Greg squinted his eyes, considering Shane’s words. “One hundred thousand?”
“Yeah. That was your initial offer, right?”
Greg looked over at me, as if I’d been a slice of decadent chocolate cake shown to diners, only to be whisked away by the server. “That was my initial offer…but I’m reconsidering now that we’ve moved on to other forms of payment.”
What happened next took me by surprise. Without hesitation, Shane propelled his fist into Greg’s jaw, hitting the man so hard he reeled. More than that, though, was Greg’s expression—one of complete shock. Then pain. He opened his mouth to speak, to demand to know what the hell Shane was doing, when Shane said, “No, you’re going to take the one-hundred thousand. And then you’re going to take her photos down and you’re going to leave them down.”
I could almost see the wheels in Greg’s head turning, grappling with what Shane was offering. “You’re ruining her life, man, and you know it.”
“You’re ruining my business.”
“You know I’m not. There are plenty of people out there willing to pose for you in whatever way you want. Not Ivy, but lots of other women and men.” I could see the reluctance in Greg’s eyes, but I could also see defeat. He knew he was done before it had even started. He’d asked for money first; I only hoped he’d agree to Shane’s terms as I felt my heart lighten in my chest.
“I’ll do one last shoot for you too—for free. A solo shoot, just me. You just have to promise to leave Ivy alone.”
So Shane Sanders wound up being my hero that day…but I knew that didn’t mean we weren’t still over…and I wasn’t willing to let my heart hope.
* * *
“Five. Four. Three. Two. One…Happy New Year!” On the flat screen TV on the wall, the big flashy ball in Times Square stopped moving as the next year began. I had known Shane wanted to be there in person, considering New York was now his new home, but his arms around my waist lifting me up to kiss him told me he was okay watching it on television.
I’d been sure that, having given up such a huge amount of money and then, on top of that, agreeing to pose for free when he was such a hot commodity nowadays and could have named his rate…well, I’d been sure that I’d never see him again. He’d made a huge sacrifice for me and basically made my life livable again. No, actually, more than that. It wasn’t just livable now; I was going to thrive.
But then this morning, after most of the holiday baloney had passed, Shane called. He asked me how I was doing and I reciprocated…but then I expressed my deepest gratitude, assured him that what he’d done was, essentially, save my life as I’d known it, preserved all my hard work, made it really mean something, kept it from going to waste. I’d never be able to repay him.
I expected him to ask why I had been ready to whore myself, but I think he understood. He must have known, because I knew he hadn’t gone to Greg’s with money and willing fist for selfish reasons. But Shane never asked. Maybe he knew something about me I hadn’t known myself.
He’d said, though, that he wanted someone to spend New Year’s Eve with.
So we sat in a crowded night club, dancing and having more fun than I’d had in ages, and we talked a little about our futures. Shane was contemplating the west coast, maybe dipping his toe in the acting waters, and I…well, I wasn’t sure. I had to decide where I wanted to begin my professional life.
Just before we had to start counting the ball drop flashing on the big screens over the bar area, Shane had asked, “Have you ever thought about teaching in California? Lots of schools there…”
I hadn’t been able to respond because we were counting down to January.
But after the entire swarm of people yelled “Happy New Year!” along with us, Shane picked me up and swung me around, kissing me like his life depended on it.
Once he placed my feet on the ground, he asked me again, this time louder as the noise in the place had risen another level. “So what do you think?”
“About what?”
“Moving to L.A. Teaching there? Have you ever considered it?”
I shrugged a little. “I actually hadn’t thought much about it. I mean, sure, I thought of different places across the country where I wouldn’t mind locating and definitely had my eyes on particular schools I was interested in but…since this whole thing with Greg, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do.” I took a breath and pondered the thought. Without someone like Shane, I didn’t think the big city would appeal to me, prestigious school or not. With him, though, I could imagine myself anywhere. But I wasn’t sure what he was asking—if that was even a possibility—so I said, “I guess maybe.”
And then he blew me away. “What if you were moving in with your new boyfriend?”
My smile was tentative and I didn’t even notice when Shane began whisking me away from the throng. I looked up at him, afraid to hope. “I suppose I would definitely consider it.”
“I told you I’m moving there soon, right?” I nodded. He stopped walking and pulled me close. All I could see then was his face, the sincerity in his eyes; he was the only thing in my world, in spite of the lights and noise surrounding us. “It’s been one of the weirdest times of my life, Ivy, but I want you with me. I know there’s a lot we don’t know about each other still, but I want to discover you. I want to have someone who understands me, someone who respects me and cares about me as more than just a sexy guy.”
I cocked an eyebrow. Shane was more than just a pretty face. After all I’d been through, all the stress, I knew I was willing to take a chance on a guy who was probably a sure thing. Suddenly, I was ready to finish my dissertation and look for a place to settle—now I wanted to find that dream job. Did I already have my dream guy? I was willing to bet it all on Shane. But I felt light and flirty, and so my next words were teasing. I cupped his jaw in my hand. “What makes you think I don’t objectify you? Maybe you are just a sexy guy to me.”
He grinned, letting me know he knew better. He kissed me then, one that consumed me and reminded me of why Shane and I were combustible together. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” He kissed me again and then glanced around as I felt something swell between us. Mmm. This guy always got my juices flowing, and I was beginning to suspect that feeling was mutual. Shane glanced around. “In fact, I’m ready for you to take complete advantage of me right now.”
Feeling devilish, I snaked my hand between our bodies and rubbed my hand along his swollen shaft. “I’ll take you up on that offer.”
Shane kissed my neck before whispering in my ear. “Lead the way, madame.”
I felt his tongue on my neck and then opened my eyes. Surely, there was some out-of-the-way spot in this place where a couple could get off…I’d just have to find it. But it would have to be a place where no cameras were allowed.
And I knew Shane and I would likely have this kind of chemistry for life. I led him by the hand around the place and knew that the rest of my life was likely to be picture perfect—and hotter than hell.