Cammers With Benefits

With these thoughts roiling about in my head, I bite my lips, look over to Jack, and say, “I wouldn’t mind seeing where you live.” I quickly add, “So I can know where to meet you if I want to talk more about that proposition of yours.”

Jack’s face blooms with the sly realization of what I’m saying, but he says nothing.

Ten minutes later, I’m in a newly gentrified part of the city with no fewer than four coffee shops within a one-block’s walk. He leads me inside his brownstone building and to the elevator, where he inserts a card, presses the penthouse button, and we’re whisked upwards, my stomach twisting with the knowledge of what’s soon to come.

The elevator doesn’t end in a hallway with half a dozen other doors like my building. Instead, the doors slide open to reveal his apartment. I step out of the elevator and into a magazine. At least, that’s what it feels like. It’s is a mix between classic New York loft-style—with its exposed brick walls and high ceilings that don’t try to hide the wires and air vents above—combined seamlessly with Swedish minimalism. Add to that the fact that the square footage of his apartment is probably five times that of mine, and I’m breathless by the time I sink into the leather sofa that spans the entire living room wall.

“This place is amazing.”

Jack looks around as if noticing how nice his place is for the first time. “It’s not half bad, is it?”

All I can do is to nod in response. Now that I’m away from the bustle of the secret bar and comfortable on his insanely plush couch, the exhaustion I’ve been ignoring hits me all at once. I wonder if Jack would mind if I just fell asleep right here, right now?

“Champagne?” Jack asks, looking as though he’s just woken from a leisurely nap. In one hand, he’s holding a bottle that says ‘Brut’ on the front. In the other he carries two champagne flutes by their stems.

I can’t even imagine drinking more alcohol at this point, but I’m just at the perfect level of drunk to be equal parts sleepy and horny. And the sight of Jack is riling up the latter half, so I sit up once more and take a glass.

“To our partnership,” Jack says and pops the top. White bubbles froth down the bottle as he fills out glasses to the brim.

He drains his glass in one go, but I stare at mine and wonder aloud,“It feels a little strange to be drinking champagne the night your business burnt to the ground.”

“One of my businesses,” Jack corrects me. “Besides, I’m not worried. We have good insurance, and this might be just the chance we need to finally scale up.”

I sip at me champagne. It’s bitter even though I’m sure this isn’t a cheap bottle. I’m not sure what people see in this drink to be honest. But then again, I’ve never had fancy tastes.

After Jack drains a second flute, he sits down beside me, his body pressed against mine. There’s no warning before his tongue is in my mouth, his hand sliding under my shirt. I’m so shocked at first that I can’t move. I’m not stupid; I knew this was the direction we were moving in. Why else would he invite me up to his apartment? But the shift was especially jarring for me, because with every heartbeat that races through my chest, the only thing I can think of is Brice’s face.

It’s stupid, I know. I saw how the nurse sat on his bed. How she leaned over him. They were too friendly to be just friends. Besides, she’s young and pretty. Plus, unlike me, she has a respectable job. I shouldn’t be surprised that Brice has left me for another girl. The only surprising bit about the past few months is that he went along with me at all.

Even knowing all of this, I’m still holding onto the anorexically slim hope that Brice will come to his senses. I don’t know if I can forgive him if I find out he’s slept with that nurse, but I know he’ll certainly never look at me the same if I find myself under Jack. Which is the direction we’re currently heading towards at breakneck speed.

He’s leaned over me, his hand having found my breast. My rational mind is fighting to keep in control even as hormones rise within me, threatening to form into a storm I can’t hope to overcome. It’s not until I moan into Jack’s mouth that I know this is definitely not what I want. Well, that’s not completely true. I want to forget the pain of losing Brice. Even if just for half an hour, it would be glorious to lose myself to my senses. But I know when I wake up beside Jack, I’ll regret everything. And it will be too late to take it back.

But it’s not too late now.

When I pull away from Jack and yank his arm out from under my shirt, he groans. “What’s the hold up this time?”

Instead of telling him the truth, I say, “I don’t feel too good.” He backs off like a cat falling in a bathtub at the sound of this, probably at the fear of being covered in vomit. Then I slap my hand over my mouth, make a gagging sound, and rush down the hall in the direction of Jack’s pointed finger.

Once in the bathroom, I lock the door behind me. For one whole second I forget why I’m here as I admire the scale of his shower. It’s bigger than my entire bathroom, with water jets running down the sides. Then reality hits me again and I’m huddled on the floor, back against the door, face buried between my knees.

While I’ve managed to hold it together in front of Jack up to now, I’m falling apart inside. And it’s not even all about Brice. My whole life is a mess. Not only have I lost my best friend, I’ve lost the man I love, my new workplace, and any semblance of a structured future. I don’t know what I’m going to be doing tomorrow, much less next month. Do I return to cam work until Greg can get the funds rolling in from our Choose You Own Sex-venture series? Do I try to get a regular job? The bigger question is what I’ll do with any free time in between working. It used to be Brice and me, watching cult classics or cringe-inducing Kung fu films from the seventies. It won’t be the same watching them by myself.

I’m just about to gather myself off the floor when I hear a buzzer go off in the other room. Jack’s muffled voice answers, his tone annoyed. There’s a loud clack as he slams something down, but not seconds later, the buzzing has retu

rned. Another clack, then more buzzing. Finally he screams into what I can only assume is a phone, “Fine. Come on up.”

When I emerge from the bathroom, slinking back into the living room like a guilty puppy, I find Jack staring at what appears to be an old landline phone with a video screen on the wall. The gears click into place, and I realize it’s an advanced door buzzer. Before I can ask who it was and why Jack looks like he could rip an apple in half right now, the elevator dings.

And out steps Brice.

Well, he would step if he could walk. Instead, he’s in a wheelchair, the nurse whose back I have only seen until now pushing him into my world. Now that I have a view of her face, I get why Brice would be into her: she’s like a sweet cartoon character, as innocent looking as a doll. I’m not beautiful—though on a good day I’d go so far as to let myself be called pretty—but my face is too sharp and my eyebrows a constant jungle that must be thinned. This girl in front of me has a beauty that she manages to make look effortless.

“Tess!” Brice shouts, his eyes beaming until he turns to Jack. “I knew she was up here. Greg said he saw you two leave the studio together last night.” When his gaze is back on me, the love he had in his eyes just moments ago has evaporated, leaving behind raw ache. “The only thing I don’t get is why. Why would you go and sleep with this asshole?”

“You’re in my house,” Jack interjects with. “And don’t think being in a wheelchair is going to keep me from throwing you out.”

Even I’m leaning towards defending Jack. It’s not like he brought me here against my will. And although he’s been a bit show-off-y with his hidden bar and his apartment and everything, I don’t think he deserves to be called an asshole.