Page 4 of Valentine's Slave

The number is unknown, but I already know her name.

Ava:I’m super weirded out by your proposal, but I’m listening

I smile. She may be as hesitant as she believes is socially correct when a stranger offers her fifty thousand dollars for seven days of sex, but she’s already given in. I know it. She’s interested, and there’s no way she’s backing out now.

Grinning, I message back.

Me:Meet me for coffee tomorrow. We’ll talk.

Her reply is just as fast.

Ava:I work the evening shift tomorrow. You free tonight?

Me:Certainly. Let’s meet at Cora’s.

Ava:Are you stalking me?

Me:I observe things carefully. I’ll meet you at 5:30.

She doesn’t text again, and I smirk.

I take a shower and put on a grey suit with a red tie.

I arrive five minutes early, but I note that Ava’s already here. This time, I look her over with more care than before. I note her good posture, her short stature and generous curves. Her hair is swept up in a bun, with only one trail of blond hair falling across her cheek. She wears a touch of red lipstick, and there’s bite in her eyes. She’s been hurt, this girl, and she seems like the type who’s looking for someone good to trust. She most likely also needs a good fuck.

She’s on the sidewalk a few shops down, and when she catches sight of me, she walks over slowly, looking me up and down even more suspiciously than she did last night.

“You’re the guy from the bus stop,” she says, as if it’s an accusation.

I keep my expression neutral. “Correct.”

“Did you follow me?”

“Would you like to have this conversation right outside your workplace or in the privacy of a café?” I ask.

“How do I know you’re not a serial killer?” she demands.

“You don’t.”

“Have you ever killed someone?”

“Yes.”

She opens her mouth, but her smartass response dies on her tongue, and she just stares at me. Finally, she begins to walk.

“There’s an Italian café around the corner,” she says.

“How fitting.”

“You like Italian?”

“I am Italian,” I say. “Italian American.”

“Oh. Are you in the mafia?”

I chuckle. “No.”

That seems to calm her nerves slightly, and she doesn’t speak again until we’re sitting down at a table by the window, her with mint tea, and me with black coffee. As soon as we’re settled, she fixes her gaze on me again.

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