Mrs. Robinson (Mrs. Robinson #1) (3 page)

Oh, God.
The reaction that flooded through me reminded me I was being totally crazy, once again. I mean,
paying a random twenty-something guy for sex
? That was more preposterous than some crackpot plot out of one of my novels. I needed to leave this stuff to my characters and stay in the real world.
What was I even thinking?

A few minutes into my book, my phone lit up with my husband’s name and photo, making a strange and pathetic relief flood through me. Even if I hated Richard, those dark eyes and that greying hair and that scar on his cleft chin from that bar fight in the ‘80s were still wonderfully familiar to me, and in some sick sense he made me feel like I was still the same person I was before we’d fallen into this mess; like the girl who lived instead of the walking dead. Forgetting that he didn’t have one, I decided maybe Richard had had a change of heart and picked up the phone with a smile, hating myself for that smile all the while.

Come on, Richard,
I thought to myself.
Come on. Prove me wrong. Just this one time, you gorgeous little fucker.

“Richard!” I answered, disgusting myself with my eagerness. “Hey! You’re coming to Le Brasserie after all? I’m so glad, I wasn’t expecting you so-”

Richard spoke gruffly to someone in the background, cutting me off. His voice was small and far-off, like headlights across a median on a darkened highway.

“That’s right, Sam,” he grunted, completely unaware that his own wife was listening. “You’re Daddy’s little slut. My crazy bitch wife can’t do that, not at all. Ugh, you’re so good with that mouth. Oh yes, you little whore, suck those balls, then let me fuck that ass on the desk…”

I gasped and felt the phone drop from my hand and fall to the floor again. My wineglass clattered over and spilled its contents onto my gown, the liquid splattering down the snowy-white tulle like blood.

Richard had butt-dialed me while having sex with my best friend.

3

Ben Bradley

A few hours after rushing Claire to the emergency room I snatched a beer from my refrigerator and slammed it shut, my dwindling condiments
clink-clinking
as they rattled together inside the door. I’d spent the afternoon and evening flipping through the same four hospital magazines and staring endlessly at the same rusty water fountain waiting for news on Claire’s latest injury, and shocker of the century, it wasn’t good. Apparently she’d been left alone too long and had wandered out of bed and into the kitchen, where she’d fallen from her chair and hit her head on the tile. She was stable and conscious now, but she had a light concussion, and because of her other issues she was in the hospital for at least five days for observation. Poor Claire. Just thinking about all the issues she had to deal with on a daily basis made a hot, angry tear squeeze out of the corner of my eye and tumble down my cheek. It just wasn’t fair. Oh, and best of all, the fight of my life had started twenty minutes ago –
across town
– and I wasn’t there. I’d missed out on my only shot to make some money and save us, and now we were fucked in a million different ways – and that wasn’t even
considering
the added costs of this newest hospital stay. Paddle, creek, etcetera. We were done.

I reached into my pocket for my phone and felt that my cock was semi-hard, just as it always was when I fell into a bad mood, for some strange reason. Now that I was finally home, I couldn’t
wait
to step into a hot shower, masturbate ‘til kingdom come, and then collapse on my bed and forget that this day had ever happened. I got
so
lost in anticipation for my solo shower session, in fact, that when I walked to the front door to turn off the porch light, I almost didn’t notice the gleaming black SUV sitting on the curb in front of my house, waiting for me.

I walked onto the porch as the window lowered.

“I’d recognize that cocky swagger anywhere,” the raven-haired woman in the car called. “Mr. Bradley, is it?”

For a moment I just stared at the SUV.

“Hey, aren’t you the lady from the other night?” I finally asked as the woman’s face came into focus in the darkness. “How’d you find me here? And…
how’d you know my name
?”

She smirked, making me even more confused. What was this lady doing
here
? I hooked up with one or two women per month, sure, and they usually got clingy after a hookup, but none of them had ever actually tracked me down like this. My surroundings faded away as I pictured our night together. A drink delivered to me from across the bar had turned into a few minutes of evasive glances and flirty stares with the drink’s sender, which became half an hour of small talk once she finally introduced herself, which finally resulted in my tongue being in her pussy for two hours back at her place…

“All that can be answered later, but right now, I understand you’re in a bit of trouble,” the woman said. “If you want a solution to all of your problems, get in.”

“…
What
?” I asked after a short pause. “But…but how did you know about my…”

“About your eviction notice, and your piling bills, and your critically ill sister? If you want to know how I know all of these things, get in. By the way, my name is Carol Bancroft, and thank you for the other night.”

I stared at her for a moment and then turned to leave. “You know what, I don’t have time for this, lady. I had fun with you, but I don’t know why you’re here, and you’re clearly stalking me, so if you’re smart, you’ll-”

“Five thousand,” she said from behind me. “Five thousand dollars if you say yes to my proposal. And that’s just the first installment.”

I stopped short.
Five thousand dollars
. With that amount of money I could stop the eviction, pay some of my bills,
and
get a lead on hiring a lawyer to start sorting out Claire’s legal mess. We’d be saved – or at least we’d be on the way to salvation. But what was the catch?

“What are you talking about?” I asked, turning back around. “What do I have to do?”

“Just get in – I’ll explain everything over some champagne. And even if you decline, you’ll still get a free ride in a limo and some bubbly out of the deal – who could deny that?”

“What? But I-”

“If you want to save your house and your sister, get in,” she repeated, and then her lips pulled into a smirk. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite –
too hard
, as you probably remember
.
”

I bit my lip and considered her offer as I tried not to blush. What did I have to lose?
Clearly not my house
, I thought darkly, if things kept going the way they were. Why not take a ride and listen to this strange woman’s proposal?

I took a breath, swallowed my dwindling pride, swung my front door closed, and started for the car.

“First things first,” Carol said a minute later, after she’d handed me a flute of champagne and told the driver to head toward Washington. She wore pointy black heels with red bottoms, black leather pants, and a black-and-white printed top, and her spicy perfume smelled vaguely like money. As I stared at her scarlet lipstick and tried not to remember how it’d looked smeared all over the tip of my dick the other night, I was briefly reminded of Cruella de Vil from
101 Dalmatians
, which I’d watched with my sister a few weeks before. “I have a confession to make. The other night, I wasn’t just looking for a good time. I was head hunting.”

“You were?”

“Yes. And you passed the test with flying colors,” she said. “I want to recruit you, Ben. Have you ever heard of an app called Hookd?”

“Uh, yeah, I think I’ve seen a few blog articles about it. Aren’t you some kind of matchmaking service or something?”

“Something like that,” she said, her eyes sparkling like the glass she was holding.

“What’s funny?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Like any business, we simply saw a demand, and then we provided the supply to fill that demand. And that demand is for you.”

“Me?”

“You,” she repeated as she settled into her seat. “You see, Washington is full of powerful men, Mr. Bradley. Everyone knows that. And everyone also knows that those men love hookers like dogs love porches on hot days. But what we’re interested in is the
other
side of things.”

I leaned back. “Go on.”

“The world is changing, Ben,” she said after giving me an appraising look. “This city is full of strong, independent, upwardly mobile women who spend so much time building their careers, they don’t have the energy to come home at night and think about searching for a partner. That’s where we come in. In short, Hookd is a totally legal app that provides companionship to women who are willing and able to pay for it.”

“…You’re paying me to be friends with random ladies?” I asked after a moment.

“For someone with such ferocious fighting skills, you’re really quite naïve,” she laughed. “It’s kind of cute, actually – it’s a very boyish quality. But no, friendship is only
part
of the package Hookd provides. These women usually want to see more…
primitive
desires pleased.”

As her words sank into me, I looked around the SUV, and for some reason, I laughed.

“What is it?”

“Oh, it’s just that…
hell no
,” I said. “
Hell fucking no
. I am not going to become some male prostitute for you. Good God, what is even going on right now?”

“This is
hardly
prostitution, Mr. Bradley,” she scoffed. “We are simply a matchmaking app that hooks up wealthy women with the young men they want to entertain. So what if money is involved? It’s like getting paid to have hot sex with sensual older women, which is something you’d maybe even be doing anyway on your own, if you’re like many other college students I know.”

“Yes, which is
exactly
prostitution,” I pointed out. “God, this is crazy of you to even ask me. Please take me home.”

She leaned closer. “Tell me, Ben – is it true that you’re ten days away from being put out on the street? And that if you don’t figure out a plan soon, your sister is being sent to a home for invalids?”

“My sister is going to be fine,” I spat. “She has me. And how the hell do you know all this? Have you been stalking me?”

“Mr. Bradley, I would kindly request that you get over yourself. I have many resources at my beck and call, including perfectly legal private investigators. We do this to all prospective employees. And fine – if you don’t want to save yourself by getting paid to have hot sex, then suit yourself. I can drop you off and find five more willing boys within the hour. But keep in mind that our most popular boy just got a Porsche sedan and an apartment on the river in Georgetown,” she smirked.

Sheesh
, I thought – that was
major
money.

Carol turned away as casually as if she’d just mentioned the temperature, but I thought I saw her sneak a glance at me a second later. A foreboding quiet fell over us as I turned over the offer in my mind. Didn’t I constantly tell myself I’d do anything to save Claire? This definitely fell under “anything,” after all, and Porsches and Georgetown apartments were certainly a far cry from my meager little existence…

“Tell me more,” I said softly, turning my body away and looking out the window. “You know, just…for the record.”

“Very well,” Carol said, and I thought I saw her nod a little to the driver, who sped up and started typing something into his phone with one hand. “We have a list of dozens of women who are independent, successful, and completely uninterested in commitment, Mr. Bradley. They want sex and companionship exactly when they want it, and that’s it. Your job is to show up, provide your services, and then leave. We will keep you safe, provide you with sexual protection, and ensure that no women contact you or harass you in any way after your transactions.”

“Huh? What would they want from
me
?”

“You’d be surprised. These women have tons of money, sure, but
you
have a valuable commodity to offer, too.”

“A penis?” I asked, half-jokingly. She did not smile.

“Not just that – masculinity,” she said, making my face go slack. “You’re a Ryan Reynolds in a world of Ryan Seacrests, to put it bluntly. In this age where men wear skinny jeans and sit in coffee shops reading poetry, there are quite a lot of women who’d like to be thrown around a little by a real, throwback
man
– the kind of man the world used to produce before ‘bromance’ and ‘metrosexual’ became words.”

“What’s the pay like?”

“A thousand a night, at the least. That’s after your signing bonus.”

“Wow. Would I have to do any weird stuff?”

“The women forward us their preferences, which we will then disclose to you. If anything proves to intense for you, you can say no and visit someone else.”

I swallowed hard. “And what if someone gets caught? This is
super
illegal, you know.”

“We operate under utmost discretion, Ben. Sure, there’ve been random blog posts about us here or there, but the Feds don’t give a damn about trash like that. We utilize untraceable transactions, fake names, shell corporations, etcetera. My little black book would blow your mind, and that does afford us some leverage with law enforcement, too. Our clients include several congresswomen, two senators, the former first ladies of four states, and more judges than I would like to admit. Even if the cover on our operation is blown, there’s a good chance I will still be able to blackmail my way to safety.”

“And
my
way?”

She narrowed her eyes. “That can be discussed at a later date.”

A static silence filled the SUV.

“You know, you’re right to be a little worried, Ben,” she said after a moment. “You’ve never done anything like this before, and it’s risky. But it’s also rewarding beyond anything your lower-middle-class mind could ever comprehend. What else are you going to do – go back to working minimum-wage jobs, fighting as hard as you can to pull ahead, and still feel like you’re running in place anyway? That’s no way to live.”

Carol stared at me, letting her statement hang in the air. And for the first time, I actually let myself consider her bizarre offer. What was holding me back? I couldn’t really say I’d been raised better than this – I hadn’t been raised at all, actually, and both of my parents had been absolutely useless. But I’d been pretty good at raising myself, and I still had my own set of moral codes – or
used
to, come to think of it. As I child I could remember seeing right and wrong in black and white, and instantly knowing what I thought of something by the reaction it gave me in my gut. But lately I’d started questioning all that. How was I supposed to play the game when I was no longer sure if I even agreed with its rules, or even knew what its rules
were
? After all, the world – and especially Washington – was full of adults seeing beyond what people wanted and needed, and choosing to get ahead by any means necessary. How could laws and morals be real when the people creating them didn’t even follow them? And didn’t the ends justify the means? How could anything that allowed me to help my sister really ever be
wrong
?