Negotiations

The sound of tearing fabric was loud.

Becca pulled back. She spat a thread of expensive wool onto the carpet. She looked up, expecting a reaction.

Art just watched her.

He reached into his jacket. Pulled out a single crisp bill. Dropped it.

It fluttered down and landed on her shoulder as she took him whole in her mouth.

-Good girl, he groaned.

She kept going until his groans grew silent and she brought him to completion.

Becca plucked the bill from her skin. She stood up, brushing her knees.

-I aim to please, Daddy. Want to go again? Another hundred?

Art ignored the question. He walked to the window.

-I don't have time for this nickel and dime bullshit.

Becca stiffened.

-Hey now. You came to me. Rates are rates.

Art turned. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit again. This time, he didn't pull out a bill. He pulled out the rest of the brick. And another. And another. And a few more.

He stacked them on the Ikea table. Three pillars of blue-striped hundreds.

Becca’s breath hitched. It was a lot.

-What is this? she asked.

-Fifty grand. Cash. A down payment.

Becca stared at the money.

-For what?

-For everything, Art said. No more hourly rates. No more negotiations. You’re mine until I say you’re not.

Becca looked at him. A warning bell rang deep in her brain. Run. She looked at the money on the table and ignored it.

She walked over. Ran a hand over the stacks.

-Everything? she asked.

-Yeah.

Becca laughed. She could handle this. Just another man with a weird kink. Becca Sunshine could survive anything.

-You got a deal, baby, she said.

She reached for the money.

-Leave it, Art snapped. There’s more.

Becca froze.

-Get your coat, we’re leaving.

Becca hesitated. She looked at the money, then at the door.

-Sure, Art, she said. Lead the way.