Good Girls Say Yes

“Who cares? Three days of sex with a millionaire at a mansion plus money? If you decline, find out if he’ll take me instead.”

Wine almost comes out of my nose because I’m laughing so hard. “I’ll do that.”

My phone chimes, and I see that it’s Lily.

No, you weren’t so drunk that you misinterpreted. Matthew is a stand-up guy. I swear he’s not crazy, and you’ll be perfectlysafe if you go. I think you might be in a little over your head with him, but you don’t have to worry about his sanity.

I read the text aloud, and Jess frowns. “What does she mean by that.”

“He can be really intense,” I say. “If I go, it’s not going to be some kind of game where I pretend to do these things, he’ll actually expect me to do them.”

“Ah. Okay. Well I still say that I’d do it, but you don’t have to decide right now.”

I nod. “I think I’m going to sleep on it and see what I think tomorrow. Maybe Tuesday.”

“You’ll tell me if you decide to go, right?”

“Of course,” I laugh. “I’m counting on you to be the one who notices if I disappear.”

She laughs and finishes her wine. “You got it. Don’t think about it too hard, okay? It’s a big decision, but whatever you decide is okay. There isn’t a right answer.”

“Thanks, Jess.”

She grabs her bag and waves on the way out the door. “See ya, submissive.”

I throw a pillow at her but she closes the door and it hits with a soft thump. I hear her laughter as she walks down the hallway.

It was good to talk it out with her, but I still have no idea what I want to do. How do I possibly make this decision?

Five

I make it all the way through Monday without texting Matthew. I’ve looked at his letter so many times that it’s starting to get worn, and I have his number memorized. I keep going back and forth between wanting the fun and the escape, and telling myself that it’s not worth the risk. Then I think of how much that money would help me, and I’m back to thinking about going.

Luckily I don’t have any big clients right now, so my bosses don’t notice that I’m almost terminally distracted. It’s the middle of the summer, and it’s a relatively slow time for our public relations firm. All the events taking place now were planned months ago, and there are far fewer companies that want a big push for fall. This is Georgia, after all. So instead of keeping busy, my mind is running the same damn loop over and over.

On top of that, I can still remember the feel of his hands on me, and the cadence of his voice when he promised what he would show me if I lost the bet. If I take it, I have no intention of losing, but that utter confidence is still alluring. Intriguing. If he weren’t so damn determined to prove that I’m one of his little submissive girls, then I would have already said yes. But then again, if he wasn’t into it, I would never have met him in the first place.

This entire situation has way, way too many angles in it. I can barely wrap my head around it. That’s what keeps my hands off my phone for all of Monday, and most of Tuesday. It’s Tuesday evening when everything snaps into clear focus. This isn’t an opportunity I’ll ever get again. Who cares if he’s trying to make me submissive? I know that I’m not, so why wouldn’t I just say yes? If I have nothing to lose, why would I say no? I was having some lingering guilt about making him feel bad by winning, and that’s bullshit. He offered, and if he’s willing, then so am I. Hell, I could use a little sex-filled getaway. Our little interlude is the most sex I’ve had in over a year, and now that I remember what it’s like, I want more.

I grab my phone and enter the number, writing about seven different versions of my message before I actually hit send.

I accept the challenge. Get your checkbook ready.

I send that, quickly followed by my address.

Not even ten minutes later my phone chimes.

I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me.

You pinned me to a wall and fucked me, I think that’s a little hard to forget.

Good. I was hoping you’d be thinking about it. And me.

Damn it, I walked right into that one. He was checking to see what kind of impression he made. I had decided to play it cool, but that’s out the window if he knows that I can’t stop thinking about that night. I try to think of the perfect response, but it’s easier to be witty face-to-face.