Undeniable Read online

  butterflies_and_light: What now? I’ve never done this before

  zb1234: Meet me tomorrow night. 9pm at the Starbucks under the Marriot in the financial district. Albert St.

  butterflies_and_light: ok.

  zb1234: I’ll be wearing a blue polo shirt.

  zb1234: I’ll book a room upstairs. If you don’t like me you can leave. I’ll even pay for your coffee ;)

  butterflies_and_light: I’m sure I’ll like you :)

  I gulped. What if I didn’t like him? What if this guy wasn’t actually Zac? He could be some creep, some psychopath.

  I took a deep breath. It was too late now. I needed the money.

  Six

  The Starbucks was bustling when I walked in, the air heavy with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Laughter punctuated the occasional buzz of the blender, and the seats were packed with energetic, happy-looking people. Many of them looked like they’d come straight from work, and I felt a brief hit of envy: why couldn’t I have a job that required me to wear spiffy suits and tops? Instead, I spent my days wearing a stupid red-and-yellow diner uniform.

  At least I’d dressed up for now. The thick leggings and jacket were for the New York chill, but the cute shirt and the flared skirt that I wore underneath was for impressing Zac. My eyes roamed towards the back of the room, where plush brown armchairs were arranged in twos. I spotted Zac immediately. He was sitting in one corner by himself, reading something on his iPad.

  And he was wearing a navy blue polo shirt.

  Relief hit me hard, leaving me weak for a moment as I breathed in deeply, thankful that zb1234 wasn’t some strange creep, before I shrugged out of my jacket and walked over to where Zac was sitting.

  “Hi,” I said, smiling with a confidence that I didn’t feel, and slid into the armchair opposite him.

  He looked up, his blue-green eyes curious, and then surprised.

  “What’re you doing here?” He glanced around nervously, and I realized he hadn’t understood that I was butterflies_and_light.

  I smiled, suddenly feeling cruel. “Oh, I’m just waiting for a friend. She said she’ll be half an hour late… is it ok if I wait here with you?”

  He looked at me unsmilingly. “I’m kind of waiting for someone.”

  “Really?” I leaned forward flirtatiously and lowered my voice an octave. “Is it a hot date?”

  I giggled, and Zac glanced at the door and frowned. “Something like that.”

  He looked at me pointedly, and I giggled again, like it was in fashion. My nervousness was surfacing all over again. His eyes were so deep. Even when he was annoyed, all I wanted to do was to reach out and stroke his face.

  And that’s what I was here for, wasn’t it? If things went well, I’d be stroking a lot more than just his face.

  I glanced down and said softly, “I’m butterflies and light.”

  It was a ridiculous thing to say out loud and anyone listening would think that I was nuts. But Zac didn’t. I glanced up, and his eyes were narrow and his angular face was now dark with fury.

  “Is this a joke?” he growled. “Who set you up?”

  I hesitated for a second, staring into his eyes. I could sense that his anger wasn’t just about being set up – this was something else. I took a deep breath. It was all or nothing – I needed the money, and I wasn’t about to blow my one chance at getting it.

  “It’s not a joke. I saw your ad on AppleADay.com, and I… I thought– I thought I could…” I stared at him, not quite sure what to say, and he grabbed the jacket draped over the back of his armchair, about to get to his feet and leave.

  “Please don’t go,” I said softly, my voice belying my desperation. “I really need this job. I’d do just about anything for the money, and I know you want this, too. Please don’t go.”

  He sighed and sat back again. “Why should I trust you?”

  I shook my head, not quite sure how to respond. Finally, I said, “I saw your ad. It was nothing more than that.” His eyes raked down my body, and I felt a tinge of happiness. He wanted me. The photos had worked.

  Armed with a sudden confidence, I said, “I don’t know who you are or what your phone number is. How would I set this up?” Doubt crept into his eyes and I went on, “I know you might not believe me, but… it’s true. I need the money. And I wasn’t trying to play a prank on you or anything. I – I really want to do this.”

  I gulped, and Zac watched me stoically. He took a sip of his coffee, never taking his eyes off me, and finally he pulled up his briefcase and took out some papers. “Read this,” he said gruffly.

  I did what he said, flicking through the pages and wondering what was going on.

  “It’s a standard non-disclosure agreement,” Zac said, as I skimmed over the words.

  I nodded. Most of it was legalese that went over my head, but there didn’t seem to be anything unusual in there. “The aforementioned will not mention any details of her activities on the night of the…” and so forth.

  “What’s your full name?” Zac said.

  “Allison Nobokov.”

  Zac took the contract back from me, filled out the blank spot for “the Receiving Party,” and handed the contract back to me with a pen. I glanced at the name written in the space for “the Disclosing Party” - “The Smith Corporate Trust.” It didn’t mean anything to me, but I mentally filed the name away for future reference.

  I signed wordlessly. Who was this guy? I watched him carefully as I handed the papers back once again. Was he a senator? Maybe a movie star? Was I so out of touch with the world that I didn’t even recognize famous people when I saw them? But surely, if he were famous, other people would recognize him and come over for autographs and photos. But nobody was doing that. He couldn’t be famous.

  Zac regarded me quietly for a few seconds, and I wondered if he would back out. But then he said softly, “Why do you need the money?”

  I shook my head. “It’s personal.”

  “I need to know.”

  He was watching me, his face hard and unwavering. I couldn’t read the intensity in his eyes, and I shrugged. “My brother needs the money.”

  “Why?”

  “Um… he got into some trouble. He owes someone money.”

  “Drugs?”

  I looked into his eyes and then down at my lap. How had things gotten so bad? I sighed and nodded, trying to stop myself from entering my now-familiar cycle of self-blame.

  “What’s his name?”

  I glanced at him, a little surprised by the question. “My brother’s? Joel Nobokov.”

  “And you’re Allie. Allison Nobokov.”

  I smiled nervously. “Yes. And you’re Zac. Zac…?”

  Zac smiled thinly. “Just Zac. Or Zac Smith, if it makes you feel better.”

  I frowned, not liking his anonymity. He already knew who I was. He knew where I lived and where I worked and all I knew about him was… well, not much.

  I’d already told Jessie that I was meeting someone at Starbucks, and that I might spend the night at the Marriot with him.

  “Ooo!” She’d raised one eyebrow suggestively. “Kinky. Who is this guy?”

  “Someone I met online,” I told her, promising details later. Details that hopefully I wouldn’t have to give.

  She knew where I was, and I’d told her to be worried if I wasn’t back by the next morning. But that wasn’t much reassurance in the face of Zac’s anonymity. Then again, I told myself, what about all those guys who use made-up names to take girls home? Surely this was better than that? At least I knew Zac’s first name.

  As though reading my mind, Zac said, “I can’t tell you my last name. Privacy issues.”

  “You sure take your privacy seriously.”

  He shrugged. “And yet you found me.”

  Our eyes held for a few seconds, and then he stood up. “Would you like to come upstairs?”

  I took a deep breath and nodded. This was what I’d wanted that night, this was what I needed to do now
.

  “I would,” I said, standing up and grabbing my coat.

  Seven

  The room was beautiful, with a gorgeous view across the bay and a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket. The bedcovers were white, and they looked fancy and fluffy. A couch covered in cream-and-pink abstract print fabric faced a large, flat-screen TV. It seemed to be a lot of trouble for just one night and I smiled nervously. “Come here often?”

  The corners of Zac’s lips went up slightly, and he shook his head. “This is my first in the Marriot, actually.”

  “Oh.”

  I didn’t like the thought of other women doing this before me – other women that he’d paid. It made me feel sleazy and dirty, and I tried to push the thought away. Besides, why was I jealous? It’s not like I was in love with this guy. I was just here for his money.

  “Here,” Zac said, handing me a wad of bills. “Count it.”

  My face flamed as I held the bills in my hand. This was too real. I was selling my sex for this bunch of bills.

  I put the bundle of bills on the TV cabinet. “I trust you.”

  “You shouldn’t.” Zac’s eyes were hard and impersonal, and he glanced at the bills. “Lots of people out to hurt you.”

  He stood there, watching me until I picked up the bills again, and counted through them. Twenty-five thousand. It was all there.

  “So this really is your first time as an escort,” Zac said, walking over to the bottle of champagne. There were two champagne flutes nearby, and I watched as he uncorked the bottle with a bang, and poured the fizzy liquid out. He glanced at me with a slight frown. “Do you never drink?”

  I shrugged. “I do, sometimes. If it’s a special occasion.”

  Which this wasn’t. My words hung heavily in the air, and Zac handed me a glass. “Drink up.” He made a mock toast. “To us.”

  I raised my glass and drank rapidly, the sweet liquid bubbling down my throat. Zac sipped politely, and refilled my glass when it was finished.

  “That’s Veuve Clicquot, if it means anything to you.”

  It didn’t. I sipped my second glass, feeling the alcohol heading towards my brain. I could just about visualize it, bubbling and frothing its way up. It all seemed so romantic – the hotel room, the chilled champagne. And yet, it wasn’t romantic. Not really. It was just another paid transaction.

  Screw that. I’d made too big a deal of finding the right guy, and having a lovely first time. That hadn’t happened. I’d heard enough from my friends to know that in reality, first times were awkward and painful.

  I put the glass down on the coffee table and sat on the couch, trying to look sophisticated and confident. I slowly unzipped my boots, slipped out of them, and tossed them to the other side of the room. I reached under the skirt and pulled off my thick leggings, hoping I looked reasonably sexy doing so. Zac crossed the room. His shoes and socks came off, before he sat next to me, and draped one arm around the back of the seat.

  “So,” I said, unable to hide the nervousness in my voice. “Why do you do this? I invited you in that night.”

  Zac frowned, and shook his head. “I can’t talk about that.”

  “But why–”

  “No more questions.”

  I felt his hand on the back of my neck, and then his lips brushed mine. The jolt of electricity hit me suddenly, making me gasp and draw back. I stared up into his eyes. They were dark, darker than I’d ever seen them, and I saw the barely contained desire that lurked there. He grazed my lips again, his lips barely brushing against my lower lip.

  I moaned, suddenly wanting more, no longer aware of the hotel room or the bundle of notes lying on top of the TV cabinet. I wanted more.

  As if he’d read my mind, Zac scooped one arm under my knees, and lifted me up onto his lap. I was facing sideways, away from him, and I turned to face him again, letting my fingers run through his soft, thick hair.

  “Mine,” he growled softly, and then his lips brushed against mine again. I pressed back, trying not to moan into his mouth. The kiss was so perfect, gentle and teasing and promising more to come. I felt myself grow lightheaded, unsure if it was the champagne or his lips, and my eyes fluttered open. I didn’t remember closing them.

  He traced his lips gently along the curve of my cheek until he found my earlobe, and then his teeth closed down, making me half-squeal, half-moan. He cradled my head between his hands and the he pressed his lips down on mine. His tongue probed, seeking something more, and I fought back with my mouth.

  I felt my blood heat up and pulse through my veins, the excitement bubbling inside me, and I couldn’t wait for what was about to come. And then suddenly, my eyes fluttered open and I pulled back, my breath coming in short bursts.

  “I can’t,” I said.

  Zac looked at me, the desire in his eyes mingling with concern. “Why?”

  His lips traced a path from between my shoulder blades, up the side of my neck, and up to my earlobe. “I can feel your heat.”

  That much was true. I radiated desire in hot, pulsing waves, and my body craved Zac. I tried to stand up, but he rose with me, turning me so that I faced him, and pressing me against his hard chest. “What’s wrong?”

  Zac’s voice was hoarse, and I shook my head, unable to speak for a few seconds. I could feel myself held against him, my breasts pressed flat against his strong chest, his abs hard and firm. His whole body was hard, and I found myself stepping closer, wanting to feel more, recognizing the hardness that was pressing against my lower stomach, a loud declaration of Zac’s desire for me.

  “You want me,” Zac said. It was a statement, not a question, and I nodded. “Then why can’t you?”

  Because I was all too aware of the money lying on the TV cabinet. I didn’t want this, I didn’t want to have to be for sale. And when we were pressed together like this, it didn’t feel like I was. It felt as though Zac and I had a powerful connection, something that wasn’t for sale. He had filled a hole inside me that I didn’t even know I had. It wasn’t just tonight – it was from that very first time I’d seen him in that diner. Those intense eyes, with that hollowness behind them. I could see a part of myself in him…

  Get a grip. This was a job, nothing more.

  But how could I turn our connection into this? Into something so … commercial?

  “The kisses,” I managed to say. “I feel…”

  Zac traced a finger slowly down the side of my face, and I closed my eyes and stifled my groan. “Let me guess,” he said. “No kissing.”

  I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and looked up. His lips were thin, pink and perfectly curved. I wanted to feel them on my lips again. I definitely wanted more kissing.

  I breathed out softly. “Kissing’s ok.”

  “You know I’ll be gentle.”

  I nodded.

  Zac bent down and softly bit my lower lip. “Let me know if I hurt you.”

  “That hurt.”

  “Liar.”

  He smiled at me and I felt myself crashing into his deep, mysterious eyes.

  And then I stepped back. I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest. “No, no.”

  I couldn’t meet his eyes. He looked confused and a little hurt, and I covered my face with my hands. What was wrong with me? I had principles, that’s what was wrong; I couldn’t just turn myself into a hooker overnight.

  I heard Zac move back to the sofa and he sighed. “This is why I never hire virgins.”

  “I’m not being virginal.”

  I looked up at him, annoyed, and he laughed shortly. There was no amusement in his eyes, and he shook his head. “Then what’s wrong?”

  I glanced at the money lying there, waiting for me to take it, and he followed my glance and leaned back. “Fine,” he said softly. “We won’t go through with this.”

  I looked at him, surprised. His eyes were gentler now, tinged with regret, and I shook my head. “I’m sorry.”

  I glanced at the money again. Twenty-five thousand dolla
rs. I needed that. Joel needed that. I couldn’t just turn my back on my responsibilities. But I also couldn’t turn into a prostitute. That wasn’t who I was. Surely there were other ways of earning the money? I hadn’t looked hard enough. I’d gotten distracted by zb1234’s ad, and his messages about paying for one night.

  “You can leave now,” Zac said, sounding bored.

  I looked into his eyes and gulped. “Are you… are you sure?”

  He nodded. “And take the money.”

  “But I didn’t earn it.”

  His lips curved upward. “You haven’t learned enough about living here, have you? Someone offers you money, take it. Stop asking questions.”

  “But…” I hadn’t really asked a question.

  We stared at each other for a few seconds, and Zac shrugged. “You don’t want to do this, fine. I understand. You’re a virgin. Maybe you’re religious.”

  “I’m not.” The words came out, broken and jagged, and we shared a glance. I wasn’t religious, not since my mother died, and I could see in his eyes that neither was he. Something had happened to us, something had been taken away, and along with that, any faith in a God had disappeared.

  “Well, whatever.” He said finally. “It was nice meeting you.”

  I couldn’t believe this. “You’re just giving me the money? What are you, gardener of the Money Orchard?”

  He laughed suddenly, his eyes sparkling again. “Just go. Before I change my mind.”

  His eyes dropped from mine and raked downwards slowly, as if to burn in his mind the memory of who I was. Just like that, flames erupted inside me. He wanted to see me naked. He wanted to do things to me. And I wanted him to.

  Now that the money was off the table, I wanted him more than ever.

  I took a few steps towards him slowly. “Maybe I want you to change your mind.”

  A lazy smile flickered across his face, and he made no move to get up. Instead, he grabbed my hand and pulled me closer. All of a sudden, I was leaning over him. I lifted one leg, and sat down slowly on his lap, and then I straddled both my legs around his waist. I could feel him under the thin fabric of my panties – I could feel his hardness pressing into me.