Wicked Dirty (Stark World 2)

Joy leans forward. "She means that if you get naked with him, then you can pretty much expect a tip."

"Seriously?" As I look between the two of them, a stocky man with thick, curly hair enters the room. He looks about thirty, and has laugh lines around his eyes. There's really nothing remarkable about him. Nothing, that is, except the fact that he's wearing scrubs and carrying a tray with a syringe on it.

"Ben, this is Sugar. Sugar, if you'd be so kind as to let Ben take a small blood sample..."

I gape at her.

"My clients are very safety conscious. Just another service I provide. Ben can have the results back to us before you're out of wardrobe. And as I mentioned, we're on a bit of a time crunch."

I hesitate, then I glance at Joy, who nods and mouths, Do it.

"Um, okay." I hold out my arm for Ben. "And Mr. Z? I mean, do you have this kind of information on him, too?"

"Of course. To be honest, that requirement has cost me a few clients. But I'm not interested in putting my girls at risk. By the way, I assume you're on birth control?"

"What?" I look away as Ben draws blood, his work swift and almost painless. He bandages the site, gives me a single nod of acknowledgement, then walks off. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine in that department."

"Excellent," Marjorie says. "And now I'm afraid we're out of time. I need you to either sign that NDA or tell me you're not interested so that I can let Mr. Z know that he's out of luck this evening."

I draw in a breath to buy a few more seconds, a little irritated with myself because I went through this whole thought process once already while we were sitting at Blacklist. But that was when the idea was vague and amorphous. Now it's real and dark and full of sharp edges.

Honestly, it's not the moral ambiguity of having sex for money that's eating at me. It's the thought of being with a stranger. I did that once--only once--and I've been beating myself up ever since.

But I'd been vulnerable then. And tonight, I'll be the one with the power. Because I can say no if I want to--and if I choose to say yes, it's because of the payday. A payday that can go a hell of a long way toward digging me out of my current financial hole. Especially if what Joy said about a tip is true.

After my first and only time, I promised myself I was going to hold out for the right guy. A good guy.

/> I don't know if Mr. Z is good or not. But if sleeping with him can save my house, then I guess that makes him the right guy. At the very least, he's the guy I need.

"All right," I say, meeting Marjorie's eyes, and then exhaling loudly. "I'm in."

"Lovely," she says, then taps out a quick text. "My dear, he's going to adore you." She stands. "Now, to get you ready."

I follow her down a carpeted hallway to what would normally be the master bedroom. Here, however, it's filled with racks of outfits, a giant make-up station, and at least half a dozen trifold mirrors.

"I adore this condo," Marjorie says, noticing my confusion. "But I use it as an office, not as my home."

"Oh."

"This is cool," Joy says, pulling a shocking red dress from one of the racks. There's probably less than a yard of material, and even if I did manage to wriggle into it, I doubt I could walk.

"Uh, I'm not sure--"

But I don't have the chance to finish before Marjorie interrupts. "That would be darling on her, I'm sure. But it screams sex. And while that may be in the cards, Mr. Z prefers a more elegant look. But set it aside, and I'll tag it in the database as one of Sugar's possible outfits."

"Why--"

"Tonight won't solve your financial problems," Marjorie says with a small smile. "And after the initial awkwardness, I think you'll appreciate being on my roster. Even when you're past this crunch, a girl can always use some pocket money."

"Right, but if Mr. Z doesn't like that kind of--"

She cuts me off with a sharp shake of her head. "He never sees the same girl twice. If you end up on my roster, you'll be introduced to other men, and most prefer to see a girl at least a few times. But," she adds in a lighter tone, "we're getting ahead of ourselves. Right now, you simply need a dress. How about this one?"

She's moved to the rack opposite Joy, and she tugs out a pale pink dress with a low-cut bodice that buttons up, a fitted waist, and a flared skirt. It's simple, managing to be both classy and elegant.

She passes it to me, and I realize it's exactly the kind of dress I might pick out for myself. "I like it," I say, and immediately feel better. No matter what I'm about to set out to do, at least I won't be decked out in leather and hooker heels.

And, as an added plus, Marjorie tells me that I get to keep the clothes. Considering what I'm about to do, I figure I'm earning them. But still, the unexpected bonus makes me happy.