Anything for Money: A Sex-For-Hire College Romance by Lindsey Bedder Read Free Book Online

have been that older guy, leaning by the elevator with his iPhone pointed my direction—he was the nice guy on the maintenance staff who always made a point to check in on me, and see if I needed anything.
    It could have been any of them. It might be some of them in the future, depending on what RJ decided. The men were there for the taking. The most important ingredient, in all of this, was me.
    This was all about me. About me presenting a specific idea of myself. About me magnifying and portraying a particular element of my personality, my sexuality. The photos—of me —wanted to communicate that profound, gratuitous beauty of all women, when they shed everything else in a moment of passion. It was about men wanting me, and having me. All those eyes, locked on me… me.
    Full body surge.
    My heels came perilously close to losing purchase on the smooth floor. They almost slid me off balance. I accidentally de-latched Joseph’s mouth, and he looked up, bleary-eyed and hungry.
    This was my chance. I grabbed his face and pulled it to mine, using his weight to pull myself upright.
    “Nice,” RJ said. “You’re very body-aware.”
    Kissing him hard on the mouth, I used Joseph’s balance to spin him against the wall. His head cracked the brickwork but he didn’t notice.
    Still kissing, I spun like a ballerina in his arms, and pressed my ass on his cock. My chest was now free in the air, but I didn’t replace the plunge neck fabric. It didn’t feel like what the moment needed.
    My breasts were out, this was fashion modeling, blah-blah, etc. I’d explain it to anybody who asked, but I’d explain it later, not now. My tight little skirt had snapped to the top of my ass, and left me completely bare below my hips. I didn’t now how my panties were arranged; I couldn’t distinguish anything down there. I only know I felt full, and wet, and exposed.
    And so what?
    Maybe I was even a little glad for the crowd of people watching. I was killing this modeling thing. The part of me that is less than humble wanted the world to see me owning this session. This was more than just fashion, this was Paris-level fashion. Milan-level fashion. I was like that model on the catwalk, completely naked except for the crazy hat. Just google-search her. She was confident and nude and strutting and perfect and way beyond judgment.
    *Click* *Click* *Click* *Click* *Click*
    “Brilliant,” RJ muttered.
    Joseph’s hands weren’t idle. One slid around my waist and up to my chest again, to caress and tease my breasts. The other hand palmed my tight tummy. He pressed his fingertips against my tight, hot skin, and slid them down to my panties.
    RJ saw what was happening.
    “Hold that expression, Rebecca,” he ordered.
    I tried to keep the face I had. I think I succeeded. In the photographs, I’m wanton and disheveled. I look wild, hungry, angry, even a little frightened.
    *Click* *Click* *Click*
    The pictures show Joseph’s hands sliding under the elastic band of my panties. They slid down… down… down even further.
    *Click* *Click*
    The pictures show Joseph’s hand cupping my mound, inside my panties, as my eyes roll back into my head. Around us, closer than I realized, were the unfocused forms of the audience, phones held our way, fingers pointed.
    Sensation racked my body.
    The dizzying jolts of pleasure and pressure, the people watching, me trying to press against Joseph while he surged against me, all while keeping tenuous balance because of my ridiculous heels—all of this reminded me of riding the mechanical bull at that bar in town. I’d been a two-time record holder freshman year. They had pictures on the walls, and a video on their website.
    —No, don’t let yourself get distracted.
    Joseph’s fingers curled into my snatch. With that, I could feel precisely how wet I was. How full and hot I was. I also had some pressure to rock against—I mean, to pose against.
    “Tilt back and kiss him while he fingers you,” RJ