Anything for Money: A Sex-For-Hire College Romance by Lindsey Bedder Page A

factoring in the videos, pictures, and my social media paparazzi. I’ve repressed my whore fantasy for a very long time. When it finally came true, it was exactly as awesome as it was in my first wet dream.
    I had an orgasm when Ameet exploded in my mouth. His cum jetted down my throat and woke me up like an energy drink. As he was still thrusting, I plucked the money out of his hand. I crumpled it in my fist and shuddered with pleasure, just from knowing it was my money now.
    My money from sucking dick.
    Thanks to Ameet’s enthusiasm, it was some of the fastest money I ever earned.
    I folded and unfolded the bill, savoring the cum in my mouth. I’d barely been awake an hour, and I had already serviced two ‘Johns.’ Ameet watched my overflowing lips, mesmerized, and I held them open so he could see better. Then he had to snap a picture or ten on his cell phone. He actually asked permission for this, as if being in pictures wasn’t my job!
    “I totally need to Snapchat this, Rebecca. My friends won’t believe it.”
    “No, mmmm!” It was not easy, talking around the pool in my mouth. “People will get… wrong… idea about me.”
    “Oh.” Ameet looked so crestfallen I almost relented.
    “Just say it’s from a photo shoot,” RJ suggested.
    I nodded.
    “Perfect!” Ameet aimed his phone. “Open wide. Hold the money up, too.”
    And that’s how I was able to sneak a picture of my first whore blow-job onto the Internet, by mixing it in with all the modeling pictures and creeper pictures already available. The world was none the wiser, since it looked legit: grainy and badly lit, and me with a sloppy dumb smile but still somehow sexy. It’s the style that RJ calls ‘mimetic,’ meaning that it echoes real life. I can image search it, find it wherever it turns up, and read what people think about me in the comments.
    When I finally swallowed Ameet’s cum, I immediately wanted to do it again. Another dick. Another worshipful man staring at me. Just one more today. Maybe two. I could squeeze in three, if I tried. I was sure RJ, with all his friends, would be able to help.
    Procuring interested men wouldn’t be a problem. Even when I’m my natural, innocent self, opportunities always seem to arise. At the restaurant, in the line at the grocery store, at the student gym on campus. RJ’s professor—I sometimes caught him looking at me in a less than professorly manner. The groups of guys I lead to their tables at the restaurant where I hostess. The restaurant’s kitchen staff—probably good for a constant supply of cum. I mean cash. The owners of the restaurant. The drunk old men at the bar upstairs. My classmates. Every single guy in the dorm, since they never leave me alone anyway.
    Only now, I could follow up all those hints and half-voiced offers, because it wouldn’t be slutty anymore. I mean, it would be slutty, but it would be the socially acceptable kind of slutty, because it’s what whores do. Nobody would judge me because it would be my job, and nobody would complain because I’d be good at it.
    Maybe I could work a night shift, delivering pizzas. Only I’d offer a special item not on the menu. Once I had a reputation, and everybody knew about me, nothing would be impossible…
    Okay, so I have a dirty mind. Welcome to the world, as seen by Bad Rebecca. I can spin ever deeper into my naught imagination, spiraling into it like a slutty corkscrew, until I open the bottle on a world of filth.
    There I was, naked on my knees in front of a guy I’d barely traded fifty words with before today. His cock still throbbed in my hand and his cum was sliding down my throat. And all I wanted was more.
    Ameet indicated the bill in my hand. “That’s more than I owe you. Can we… can we put the rest on account?”
    I nodded. “Just say when.”
    “Is it transferrable?” RJ asked alertly. He leaned on the couch, watching me over Ameet’s shoulder with an intense gaze. “Maybe Ameet has a friend, or a