Chapter 7

“Ugghhhh,” Jane groans as she turns off the alarm. Her body feels like it’s spinning around the room. She reaches for her headache medication, but has no water to wash it down.

She rolls out of bed, still wearing her skirt and top from the night before, and makes her way to the kitchen. She bends over, feeling horrible at the thought of how much she drank and embarrassed that she kissed a random stranger, one who had to be at least ten years her senior. She looks in the mirror and finds she has lipstick smeared across her face. She can’t believe she let herself get so drunk.

There’s a knock at the door.

Oh, damn it, it’s the landlord, Jane assumes, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

A knock again.

“Ms. Bryden, are you there?”

It’s a man’s voice, but not the landlord’s. He knocks again.

Jane walks over to the door as quickly as she can without puking. She looks through the peep hole and sees a man who is about six feet tall with dark hair and wearing a pinstripe suit. His face looks friendly enough.

“Ms. Bryden, I’d like to speak with you. It’s about the gentleman you met last night.”

Jane flushes with embarrassment and flattery at the same time.

“Oh,” replies Jane through the closed door.,“What is it?”

“Would you mind opening the door? I have a proposal to make to you.”

She unlatches the door and opens it. The man notices that her hair is disheveled and that her tits are showing through her white blouse. Her skirt is half falling off of her, revealing her belly button. He wishes he could invite himself in, grab her beautiful waist, kiss her belly and throw her on the couch. He wants to rub his body all over her, but he knows better. He works for Brad Halliwell, and Brad has his eyes on this pretty, young thing.

He clears his throat.

“Um, sorry to bother you so early in the morning, but I have an urgent message for you.”

Jane feels mildly confused, but wants the man to tell her whatever he needs to say so she can go back to bed.

“The gentleman you, uh, met last night at the bar, his name is Brad Halliwell, and he funded the ballet production you were in.”

Oh God, Jane thinks to herself, I really blew it this time.

“Well, he has asked me to offer you a proposal of sorts. He sees your potential as a ballerina and wonders if you would go away with him for a week to his private island. He was quite captivated by you.”

“Well, that’s a lovely offer,” says Jane, sarcastically. “But I’ve got bills to pay, and I just can’t take a week off.”

“Yes, he understands that completely. That’s why he is prepared to offer you one million dollars, so you have peace of mind and don’t have to worry about a thing. He’s already spoken with your dance instructor, letting her know that you might be away with him.”

Jane is dumbfounded. She’s never had that much cash offered to her before.

“One million dollars, really? What’s the catch?”

“Not much of one. He just requests you wear this piece of lingerie and the dress in this box and meet him at his private jet in Syracuse at three p.m. tomorrow.”

“Oh, I get it. I have to have sex with him. He wants me as his hooker. Well, you can tell your Mr. Brad Halliwell that even though I’m broke as hell, I’m not that kind of gal. I’m sure he can find someone else who will make him happy.”

Jane is proud of standing up for herself, even though all she wants to do is run to the bathroom and puke her guts out.

“Well, ma’am, that’s the thing. Mr. Halliwell is a decent enough man to say there is no such requirement. You don’t have to have sex with him…unless you want to. He will respect your choice either way, and you still get the million dollars at the end of it. He just asks that you follow his instructions knowing there is no pressure or expectation on his part. What do you say?”

Jane is blown away and doesn’t really know what to say. She remembers how he made her feel last night and how she was ready to give all of her body to him in that brief moment. She isn’t sure if she can trust herself or not, wondering if the piña coladas made her lose her senses.

Why would she pass up the chance to make a million dollars with a wealthy man wanting to take her to a private island? Without having to do anything but wear a specific outfit?

“Can I think about it?” Jane asks the man.

“Well, not really. Mr. Halliwell needs to know now, and would just ask you to sign this contract to confirm the details so we can book the jet.”

“Well, fine, what’s there to lose,” replies Jane flippantly, just wanting this man to go away so she can go back to bed.

She takes the box that has the dress and lingerie she’s supposed to wear and closes the door before the man has a chance to say goodbye. She tosses it on the couch and crawls back to bed, popping another pill.

“Oh God, I think I’m losing my mind,” she says to herself, and immediately doses off to sleep.