The Rental (8 page)

I was about to ask if I was meant to lie, but she continued, saying, “We need all employees to create a pseudonym. Many want this, and others don’t mind, but to keep all our valued staff safe and as anonymous as we can, we require you to take some time for this aspect of application.”

“Wait,” I said. “So I’ve got the job? I’m hired?”

“You know,” Amber said as she leant forward on her elbow pointing at me, “we need more enthusiastic employees like yourself. But a word of warning—compartmentalise. You need to treat your time here like a different life. At first, it may not seem important, but you’ll realise everything here can go up in flames in an instant. You don’t want to discover you have no life to go back to.”

“Sure. I will.”

“I like you. A lot. Don’t lose your qualities.”

I was high on excitement, but I realised like a sudden change in the wind, I’d need to mull it over. My life was about to change in an instant, and it’d be easy to make the wrong choice. Even just the pause now made me shift in my seat. I’d never been paid to turn someone on, and I didn’t know nearly anything about this position in the scheme of things. The atmosphere in this building seemed as Amber described, compartmentalised. Would I need to put up an act in front of other rentals and staff, as well as clients?

If I had a change of heart, I could always quit.

No worries, Vee. Now chill.

“I’ll note that one down,” I answered.

“I hope you’ll enjoy us as much as we will enjoy having you here.”

She left me to fill out the form. Over the next twenty minutes, I created a profile for myself. I thought picking a name would take forever, but it didn’t take too long to figure out who my other self would be. Victoria. Victoria would have brown hair, instead of my blonde. She had a mum, dad, and two sisters (sisters sounded hot, didn’t it?) and a pet cat. She lived with roommates (ward off the stalkers) and loved to dance.

Afterward, I handed the form in to Amber, who was waiting at the desk with the receptionist. She took me to their on-site doctor who performed a swab and blood test to check for any existing conditions or diseases.

A make-up artist made up my face, put on a wig from the storage room as described in my application and took a series of portfolio shots—some headshots and some body shots.

It all happened so fast, I went through it with a smile and hoped I’d wake up and still feel confident this was the right choice to make. I’d been a thinker for the last half a year, bunkered down in my own world, trapped and plagued by money issues, and the worst kind of loss I’d ever experienced.

I was ready to be a doer, although my forced smile and upbeat responses to everyone was as far as my belief ran. I wanted, though, oh how I craved, like a pulsing ache in my belly before a big race. I wanted to experience the dirty things I saw and imagined, and I wanted freedom. I could do the hard work now for the money that would get me there.

I didn’t know how I would, but I wanted to learn.

I got tips during my initiation. I should wear my hair or wig down, always, and I wasn’t to cut it shorter than my shoulders unless I had long-term clients who were happy for me to do so. Deflect personal questions if asked too often.

Amber started packing up to leave, so I asked, “Do I get the house tour?”

“Not today. We’re busy with the shortage.”

“Okay, then.”

“I’ll be in touch. Oh, and I forgot to tell you,” she said. “I’m relieved you and Rick aren’t in a relationship. Because of the nature of The Rental, we don’t allow personal relationships between anyone who works here out of the interest of clients.” She patted my shoulder and retreated. “But that won’t be an issue for you.”

7

I
GOT HOME
in the early hours of the morning. I slept and woke, telling Mum my work cancelled some shifts so I’d be home for the next few days. She swallowed it all easily as the eggs she’d made to eat—in haste—before dashing off. It was lucky because I didn’t know what else to say. I curled up in bed that day and the next, waiting to get a call or email from Amber, reading a book and watching movies.

I was watching
Titanic
and had hit pause before Rose and Jack went to the bow at sunset for their infamous scene. It was midday, and I wanted to watch the rest in one gulp after lunch.

The doorbell rang when I was in the kitchen cutting up tomatoes for my toasted sandwich. I narrowed my eyes and ran into Mum’s room to peep. Justin hadn’t pestered me for a few months now, and I hardly expected him to come for a nice Sunday lunch.

But Rick had come. He arrived with a lopsided smile in effect mirroring the same cheesy expression on my face as I let him in. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Wanted to drop by to see how you were.”

“I’m making a bite to eat. Want some?”

He was in drawstring lounge pants, a T-shirt and a hoodie scrunched above his elbows. Rick Delaney would either use his appeal for leverage over whatever he wanted with me today or was positively clueless of how he affected me.

I turned my back, heading there anyway before he answered, my bitten lip hidden from his view. In those pants, the material hung loosely, and I continued cutting my tomato though the image of the slight outline I’d seen wouldn’t disappear. I couldn’t continue cutting tomatoes now, so I used the slices I had, piled on a slice of cheese and ham, and pressed it between the hot plates.

While Mr Sex had walked in and aroused my imagination with a mere walk, I couldn’t have looked worse—unless maybe I was in a hessian sack. I wore leggings, a tank top, and a long cardigan, wispy and weightless when I walked. I hadn’t combed my hair or worn a bra, and my unruly state had me chin down, cleaning everything I’d used immediately as my sandwich cooked.

He sat down at a stool under the lip of the kitchen bench, resting his elbows on the surface. “Starving, actually. Thanks for saving a piece.”

The dripping sarcasm in his tone and the pointed glare at the singular sandwich indicated he wasn’t serious.

I shook my head although smiling, and leaned my elbows on the bench. “You surprised me visiting like this. I um … put it all away, not really thinking.”

He surveyed the clean surface, and his gaze ended between my elbows. My cheeks flamed, and as badly as I wanted to drop my gaze, I knew by the wide-eyed lust in his that he could see either nipple, my pushed together cleavage or both. The idea made me smile, so I stayed that way, with a coy grin.

“How’s your mum?” he asked.

“My mum?” I turned and moved the sandwich to the plate. It wasn’t for hunger—I’d lost that. Him steering the conversation to my mum made my hope sag, but I continued on halving the toasted sandwich with a knife and pushing his half his way, as if I didn’t mind at all. “She’s doing better now, not fantastic, but … well … okay. Here.”

I took a bite of mine, scalded my tongue, and flinched.

“Come here.”

I walked around, plopping onto the stool next to him.

“Open up.”

I stuck out my tongue.

He assessed it. “Seems fine. I believe only your pride is wounded.” I didn’t say a word, only breathed heavily through my nose.

“Vee, is your mother home?”

With my lip trapped between my teeth, I shook my head.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about Friday night. All of it,” he said, and put his hands on the sides of my stool. His fingers caressed my butt as he pulled me close between his knees. “Not the moment I laid eyes on you, the kiss, or what I said.”

He brought up a slideshow of flashbacks to my mind, and I replayed that interview with Amber and my induction process. I had been dreaming of the call or email all weekend, but didn’t realise until now I’d tucked away my fears and concerns. Rick dredged it all up, slimy and sloppy, and my hands became fidgety in response. I picked up my triangle from the plate and ate it up, licking my cheesy fingertips clean. Rick watched me, lips parted as he watched every flick, withdrawal, and slide in and out. He all but made me feel like I was sucking his dick.

I brushed my sleeve over my forehead and weakly smiled. “Nah. It’s fine.” I couldn’t even look at his face, instead staring at his T-shirt.

“What were you doing before?” he asked, popping his triangle into his mouth.

“Watching a movie. We can just hang out here if you want to.”

He swallowed, bobbing his Adam’s apple up and down. “I was thinking we could watch a movie anyway, so I’m happy to sit in with you. Don’t ruin your movie on account of me. I’m easy to please.”

“Really?” I asked. “Because it’s
Titanic
.”

He swallowed his last piece and took the plate with him to the sink. He began washing his hands, turned to me, and said, “Nice.” I forgot his response as soon as he said it. I watched his back and shoulders tense while he scrubbed his hands together, shook them in the sink, and rubbed them down with the towel.

Good God, it seemed I could turn anything into a sexual connotation when it involved Rick. I had to get a grip. I stood from my seat and let a deep breath wash my dirty mind clean.

“Cool, it’s on in my room.” I grabbed a bag of M&M’s from the pantry and led us back to continue watching.

In my room, I must have started to fuss because he told me to stop. He got under my blanket with me, and I pressed play. My heartbeat was right in my throat the entire time. I couldn’t swallow any M&M’s, though it wasn’t for lack of trying, and I ended up feeding the few I did bring to my mouth over to Rick’s to feed him instead.

He wrapped his tongue over the chocolate, wetting my fingers in the process, and then slowly withdrew. “Sit with me,” he whispered roughly.

I placed my hands on either side to lift up. I was immediately assaulted with awkward possibilities of getting all tangled with my limbs while figuring out how to slide over to him. Or if he wanted me between his legs at all. In that pause, he slid his hands over my hips and placed me at the peak inside his thighs.

I broke out in a sweat and threw off the cover to the end of the bed, past his bare feet extending beyond my own.

His dick came to life and nudged the hollow between my ass cheeks through my leggings.

On screen, Rose was naked, and the camera panned down her length, past her breasts and switched to Jack’s startled, yet cool, composure.

“This doesn’t happen to me when I watch movies,” Rick whispered in my ear, sliding his bottom lip down the outer rim and breathing—hard. I sucked in a rapid breath and let my head ease onto his shoulder. He held my hips steady and grinded his erection against me, and if not for my leggings, he’d be inside me. He wound his arms around me like a band and added, “I missed you so much, Vee. I’m trying to watch Rose’s tits, but I just can’t.”

He didn’t. He nibbled on my neck, on my ear; he turned my chin with his finger and nibbled on my lips. Later, he used his teeth and lips to suck on my neck, but let go quickly. I guessed branding me with a hickey would not bode well for clients wanting to own me during their bookings.

He used his hands mostly after that. When he touched my waist and down my sides with the same hungry sensuality as from his twenty-first, I shuddered. Tight against my skin, his hands lowered into a V between my thighs.

The memory of those hands on that night had always belonged to Rick. Not my then boyfriend, his brother. Somewhere inside, I thought I knew all along that it could never be Justin. Did that make Rick and me as bad as Justin and Cara?

I didn’t mind burning for my dirty thoughts. It was smoking hot in hell, anyway.

Rick raised his palms, slowly, up my stomach and chest. He slid them over my pebbled nipples, and then centred over my hammering, wild heart. “Do you feel that?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“I wanted you so badly that night, Vee. I was drunk, and things were bad with you and Justin, but it shouldn’t be right what I did. And the worst thing is I don’t feel bad. I’m not as good as you might think, baby,” he said and kissed behind my ear. “There were three strippers at that party. But guess who I had wood for when I took off? Guess who all my friends had wood for? You know it wasn’t
just
because of them.”

I shook my head. No, he wasn’t going to say—

“You. Because you owned that sexy as hell get up in those thigh-high boots. You loved what you saw, and that confidence was such a turn on. One of the guys told me something about you before I came up behind you on the dance floor. I was so mad that I wanted you there, consequences be damned. I stopped myself then, and I’m trying like fuck to stop myself now, but I don’t know if I can if you become a rental.”

He leant back into my neck and held his lips there, gluing me to him with pure lust. Delicate and strained breaths heated me up, scorching me inside and out.

I turned my chin to him, so I could see his face. “There are things you mightn’t know about me. I’m a virgin, Rick. I’m virginal, unexperienced, and awkward. But I’m also so …” I couldn’t make myself say the word the first time, so I tried again, “so wet feeling you behind me, feeling the way you touch me.” I paused. “And remembering those girls all over you. Could I pretend to be a person I’m not?”

He ran his palm down my cheek and fluttered his eyelids closed, groaning, and hugging me tight with his other hand around my waist. He sighed, defeated, and then said, “You’re pure, desirable, and confident. If you be exactly you, I promise it’ll be everything any man could ever want.”

“Even you?”

“Especially me,” he said, sounding pained. I frowned up at his eyes.

I didn’t know if Rick wanted to take my virginity and fuck me senseless, or if he wanted to make me his, but I knew
I
wanted too many things.

I wanted to embrace
bad.

I wanted to make him hot, bothered, hard, and pained, and I wanted him to be mine.

I wanted to become a rental, but trembled at the idea, too.

I wanted to break all the rules.

And I wanted to stop thinking about the consequences.

“Let’s keep tonight quiet,” he said.

“The movie or this discussion?”