Page 2 of Short on Rent

“I’ll do it!” I blurt without thinking it through first. “What do you need? Someone to do your laundry? Or clean your room or car? I can do that,” I say as some of the tension in my neck and shoulders ease.

He drops his chin to his chest and shakes his head slowly, making his beautiful curls shift with the movement. “I don’t want any of that,” he says, visibly trembling all of a sudden.

My brows dip, and I frown. “Then what do you want?”

He takes a huge breath and steps forward, forcing me back until my thighs press against the arm of the couch behind me. My chest tightens, and my belly dips at the hungry look on his face as soon as we make eye contact for the very first time.

“B-Blake…” I push my hand against his firm chest, trying to create some breathing room between us. He may as well be an immovable thousand-pound statue for all the good it does.

“$100 for you to bend over the couch and pull your pants and panties down.”

Chapter 2

Lora

My heart pounds wildly against my ribs. “$100 to…I-I can’t. I’m not going to…to have sex…with you?” It comes out as a question because even as my stomach churns at the idea of having sex with Blake for money, my desperation to continue sleeping safely in a warm bed has my mind racing, unbelievably considering his lewd offer.

Under any other circumstances, I would jump at the chance to fall into bed with him, but this is too much. Too impersonal. There would be nothing romantic about it, not like I’ve always dreamed my first time would be, and I think it would kill a piece of my soul.

There’s a soft, pleading tone to his deep voice, almost like we’ve switched places, and he’s the one begging now. “I won’t touch you. I just want you to bend over and show me your pussy. You don’t have to do anything else.”

Instead of kneeing Blake in the balls or slapping him like I should, I hesitantly ask, “That’s it? No touching, just…showing?”

“That’s it, Lora. That’s all you have to do, and I’ll cover $100 of what you owe.”

To our mutual surprise, I make the decision that will help keep a roof over my head for another month. “O-Ok. I’ll…I’ll do it.”

Blake’s knees buckle slightly, and he finally drops my elbow, nearly tripping over his feet to flip the overhead lights on in the kitchen and living room since the sun is setting outside.

Before I lose my resolve, I turn around, giving him my back when he rejoins me. My hands shake so violently that it takes me a few tries to lift the hem of my top, unbutton my black work jeans, and pull my zipper down. I can hardly breathe through my panicky thoughts at what I’m about to do when I hook my fingers in the waistband of my pants and panties and push them down to the tops of my thighs, then lean forward to brace my hands on the cold arm of the couch.

Blake’s voice is breathy when he says, “Lower. Push them down to your ankles and bend over all the way with your elbows on the cushion.”

My legs threaten to give out, but I do what I’m told. For $100, I can just lay here and let him look at me…down there. I won’t be able to face him again after today, but I can do this, just this once.

“Oh baby, there you go. Scoot your feet apart,” he says in a near-whisper, and it’s then I realize I have my trembling thighs clamped tight together. I drop my belly on the arm of the couch as I inch my feet outward. “Wider. Keep going.” I follow his command until the band on my jeans can’t stretch any further. “Good girl,” he rumbles with a huskiness that makes me want to slam my thighs closed again.

A shiver skates down my spine, and the goosebumps peppering my arms spread across my entire body at being called a good girl. No one’s ever said that to me before, and my lower belly flutters at hearing it now, even as I have the urgent impulse to tell him that I’ve changed my mind, pull my jeans up, and race out of the apartment with only the clothes on my back.

It’s only the threat of sleeping on the sidewalk or a park bench that has me dropping my forehead on the couch cushion while Blake looks at my exposed private parts. I can do this. Just pretend I’m taking an uncomfortable nap. Then it’ll all be over, and I’ll be $100 closer to covering rent this month.

I’m stuck in my head trying to figure out exactly how I can earn the rest of the cash when I hear the metallic clank of Blake unbuckling his belt and the sound of his zipper being pulled down. I rear up, fear turning my muscles into jelly, and shout over my shoulder, “I told you I’m not going to have sex with you!”

There’s a desperate edge to his voice when Blake croaks out, “And I told you I wouldn’t touch you. Please, baby…If you want your $100, you’ll bend back over and stay there until I’m done.”

“Done with what?”

He doesn’t answer me, and I war with myself over what to do, wondering if I can trust that he’s telling me the truth or if I should cut my losses and run. When I remember just how miserable my old life used to be, I slowly lower myself back down and drop my head again, imagining myself snuggling up in my warm, cozy bed after this.

Over the sound of my blood pounding in my head, I hear Blake moan, followed by frantically fast, wet slapping noises, so I can only assume he’s masturbating. My knuckles go white as I try to dig my fingers into the cushion, willing myself not to bolt, and only start to relax when he keeps his word and doesn’t touch me.

“$50,” Blake grunts. “I’ll give you another $50 if you spread your ass cheeks and pussy lips. Let me see inside you.”

Again, I silently debate whether a warm bed is worth it or not. It is. I don’t know where I get the guts to do so when I tell him, “$100. If you want to see…in-inside m-me…then I’ll do it for another $100.” Blake whines but doesn’t answer, so I reach behind me and palm my butt cheeks, barely parting them to tease him.

He moans and says, “Oh fuck, baby. Ok. $100 if you pull them all the way apart and tilt your hips up even more.”

It’s a strange victory, negotiating for more money like this and winning. If I do what he wants, I’ll have $200. I hook my pinkies over my lower lips, spread them and my cheeks, and readjust my hips against the couch until I’m bent at a sharper angle.

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