Page 258 of Filthy Elites

I don’t know what it says about him, but he’s notremotelysneaky about the shady things he does.

I forgot all about the present he left for me over the course of my last two classes, but I’m reminded when I slide in and go to drop my heavy-ass backpack in the passenger seat. I nearly crush a pink striped gift bag. I catch its weight just as the top of the gift bag dents.

Shifting my target, I drop my school bag farther over on the seat and grab the gift bag, pulling it on my lap so I can see what’s inside.

Layers of white tissue paper obscure the item. I push them aside and see two things—an envelope with my name on it, and a bit of white folded fabric.

I pull the note out first.

The envelope is sealed, so I tear it open. When I go to pull it out, I’m startled to find money stuffed inside along with the note. My stomach twists, a mix of confusion and… I’m not sure what. I count out the fifties in mild disbelief.

He gave me $300?

More perplexed than I was before, I open the note card. The inside is blank but for his writing.

Let’s see how serious you were about that side hustle. ;)

This is the first half.

You’ll get the other 300 after I get a picture of you wearing what’s inside the bag. Nothing else.

What?

Oh, my god.

My cheeks burn as I set aside the card and the money and pull the folded fabric out of the bag.

It’s a pair of white panties. They’re the epitome of purity with soft fabric over the crotch, but lace everywhere else. They even have a little white bow in the center.

He has got to be kidding.

I’m floored. He is out of his mind if he thinks I’m sending him a picture of me in just my panties.

Before I head home, I grab my phone and carefully type in his number from the slip of paper he sent over at lunch.

“You have lost your whole mind if you think I’m doing that,” I text him.

I wait a few seconds to see if he has his phone out, but he’s probably heading to his car or driving home. I put my phone in the cup holder and head to my house, too, but I can’t stop thinking about the panties he bought me and his insane request.

Once I’m in my driveway, I check my phone again and see I have a text from him. It’s the first one I’ve ever received, and my tummy flutters a little.

“Why?” he asks. “It’s exactly what you asked for. Less than an hour of work, and you’ll make $600. What’s the issue?”

There are too many issues! I don’t even know where to begin.

I type back, “I was JOKING about stripping. I might be in dire straits, but sex work wasn’t in my five year plan.”

“Guess you don’t need the money that badly then,” he shoots back.

Yes, I do.

My energy dips a little when I realize it. It’s depraved asking me to send him a picture like that for a lot of reasons, but the reality is, I do need money, and as shady as his terms are, he is offering some.

As reluctant as I am to do what he asked, I know I shouldn’t turn down a chance to make an extra $600. It wouldn’t buy me a whole month with all our expenses, but it would still be a relief to have an unexpected infusion of cash. And while Iwasjoking about stripping, I can’t say I’d never consider it. There are more important things than my modesty, and Mom’s cancer treatment is definitely one of them. Keeping a roof over our heads is another. I know how she would feel if we lost the house, and as bad as her health is, she can’t take stress like that.

I guess at least if I sent him a picture, he would be the only one seeing it.

Rather than acknowledge why this makes a bit of sense, I text back, “What would your girlfriend think about all this?”

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