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

boss?”
    Tingles. I truly had no secrets from RJ, and he knew exactly what would turn my dial.
    “Yes,” I said, trying to sound sweet and innocent, and failing utterly. My word came out like a panther’s growl.
    “Like maybe my advisor,” Ameet pondered. “So he’ll recommend me for that internship I applied for.”
    “Think your advisor would like her?” RJ prodded.
    “You know he would, Ripper. I told you all about him.” Ameet turned to me. “My advisor is obsessed with you, Rebecca. He downloads everything he can find online. He’s so jealous that I know you. He wants me to introduce him to you. He said he’d be your advisor, if you wanted.”
    “She could come with you to your next meeting,” RJ said. “She’ll wear my favorite outfit, that high-fashion dress of hers. You’ll have your meeting, and he’ll be tongue-tied, staring her up and down. And then at the end, you could say, ‘Oh, one more thing.’”
    “Yes,” I growled again. RJ was painting a humiliating, filthy scene. I knew I could make it work.
    “I like it,” Ameet said, and he did, because I’d forgotten to release his shaft, and it was hardening again in my hand. “I’d nod at Rebecca, and she’d get up and slink over without a word. She’d drop to her knees in front of him. Then, just before he came in her mouth, I’d ask for the recommendation.”
    Frissons of pleasure, batting at me like a cat with a toy. RJ watched it play out on my face, drawing pleasure from my pleasure. How he could read me! We were such a match.
    No, we were such a waste.
    We were a fucking waste of what would probably be an epic relationship, something so hot it would burn down the world. Why had I ever turned him away, or let him persist believing he was friend-zoned? And why hadn’t I broken every nail tearing the wall apart by hand? I might be organized, career-oriented, and sexy, but I never said I was smart.
    “I like it,” I said, for both of them. “I like that plan.”
    It answered Ameet, but it spoke to RJ. If only RJ would hear me.

We're Sooo Close!
    R ipper Jack and I got close, but we didn’t close the deal. The next time I returned to his house, I discovered we were still only friends. All that intensity and intimacy from the morning with Archibald and then Ameet—it was all gone. Like he’d pressed a reset button without me knowing.
    It was depressing to realize that I’d gotten closer to being a whore than being RJ’s girlfriend. I’d been working on RJ all semester, whereas precisely nobody had known about my whore fixation until I drunkenly yelled it outside a bar. I was also a little pissed that RJ hadn’t followed up on that. Did RJ think it was just a one-time fantasy for me? Did he not believe this could be our real dynamic? And for that matter, if he was merely a friend-zoned ‘buddy,’ why did he help me act out a fantasy in the first place?

    * * *
    I went to class with RJ when he presented the Archibald photo shoot. It had one of my most favorite pictures of all time, and I begged him to include it in the series. It jumped out at me in so many ways, and I wanted to know what the other students thought of it.
    He was hesitant, but then surprised me by using it. There I was, my most intimate and revealing photo yet, projected on the twelve-foot screen. My breath caught when it went up. I squirmed in my seat, suddenly hot. As it turned out, I had a lot of time to squirm, because that photo stayed up the longest. It took a while for the class to unpack why it was so special.
    First, you have to get past my splayed legs and my nipples against Archibald’s chest. You have to get past how my panties had shifted completely to the side, and my pussy lips were split open, glinting wet, and wrapped around Archibald’s shaft. Then, you have to wrap your mind around the artistic contrast of my lean body, with my rippling abs, and Archibald’s pillowy flesh.
    If you can get past all those surface features, you’ll see