Or is it the leftovers I had last night?Either way, I can’t keep my stomach from threatening to revolt as I look at the screen in front of me.Being so close to Christmas, we’re bound to be overwhelmed by callers wanting their services turned on or reinstated.
Unfortunately, I’ve been there, done that, and crafted the tee shirt with my tears.The only reason I’m not on the other end of these calls is because I get a free phone line with this company.I just need to stay a good enough employee to not lose this job.
Taking in a deep breath, I do my best to clear my head and get on with my day.All around me, the other workers stay bright and cheerful while talking to the most vile of customers.I, on the other hand, can’t seem to fully keep it together.Yes, I’m nice and cordial on the phone.I try to do what I can to help them, but after a bit, their caustic voices, their shouted demands, their horrid cursing break something in me.
Tears blur my eyes as I turn off my phone and mark that I’m taking one of my fifteen minutes allotted time.The only reprieve I have is outside, where the icy wind whips through me, making my teeth chatter.It’s painful, but a far better sensation than the sweltering heat of the office.
Staring at the ground, the nausea from earlier threatens to return.Has to be something I ate.Even with the extra money I had, I made sure Daniel was fed first.He’s the one who I’m truly worried about.Unfortunately, that left me cleaning out the fridge of whatever was left.Maybe after Christmas there will be a sale on the unsold food.
A dull itch resides under my skin as I continue to stand there, letting the wind whip into me.Try as I might, I can’t seem to scratch it.I can’t get it to go away.God.The last thing I need is to be sick.
Slipping back inside, I use the last few minutes to look at my bank account.The app Jason had me install helped in many ways—at least now I can’t overdraw without knowing it.The problem is, I can’t stop checking it.
Every time I use my card, I check it.Every time I think something might have come out, I check it.It’s pathological at this point.An addiction I cannot seem to kick.The only saving grace is the notification Jason set to let me know when my account goes below a certain amount.
I’m not even close to it, yet I can’t stop checking.Fucking pavlovian.At least it’s something else to think about that’s not Jason Locke and the absolute perfection of his body.
Slick gathers at my thighs as my mind conjures the image of his massive cock.Fucking traitor.I’m supposed to be getting him out of my mind, not nearly panting over him while at my office desk.
Reaching out, I fix the pens lying haphazard in my cup.What is wrong with them?Why can’t they just stay straight?But no matter how hard I try, they slump in ways that have no rhyme or reason—only chaos.
Frustrated, I turn my attention to the sticky notes in the corner.Those I’m able to shift about until they look perfect.It’s something, at least.Those stupid pens keep making my eyes twitch, though.
Unable to stand it any longer, I open my drawer and dump them all in.But that just makes everything worse.Nothing in the drawer is orderly.Instead of taking calls, I find myself rummaging about, fixing everything like a woman possessed.It’s not until one of my coworkers calls out, telling me to get on my phone before I get fired, that I even realize time has passed… a lot of it.
Fear and desperation edge out the need for rightness, but it doesn’t take it away completely.So that I don’t allow myself to fall into another time trap, I don’t even take a break.I continue to work through until my bladder screams so loudly, I just can’t ignore it.
Shuffling to the restroom, I look at my account again.Even lower.Fuck.Maybe I shouldn’t have paid down debt or paid ahead.Now, I don’t have the luxury of looking at cold hard cash.
Desperation claws at my throat as I sit there, fingers trembling and heart pounding in my chest.I need more.I need to feel safe.I need to find a way to just get ahead.The clinic does that.It helps me pay for things far faster than this current job.
Closing my eyes, I recall the woman at the bank who gave me the card in the first place.She was head to toe opulence.She was everything I longed to be but never could manage to become.Problem is, at this point, I don’t need all that.I don’t need furs and diamonds.
What I want is far more simple.I want safety and security for my brother and me.I want him to have the best food he can and never go hungry.I don’t want to depend on the charity of my neighbor.Not for food or for watching him.
If I had the money, there are so many programs I could put Daniel in where I just know he’d thrive.He’s asked, but never pushed, never demanded.When I’d tell him, “It’s not in the budget, bud,” he’d look a touch sad and dejected, but he never argued with me.
God, how I wish I could give him the world.I can’t do that working here.No matter how I save, how little I do for myself, this job just barely covers the normal bills.It will never account for anything extra.
As much as I hate the idea of whoring myself out, it’s a big enough payday to actually let me do those little things most people think nothing of.It will give me the boost I need to help my brother and me thrive instead of just barely survive.
It’s not wrong, right?This is totally justifiable, right?And it has absolutely nothing to do with one sexy Jason Locke.Not at all.If he happens to be the one to fuck me, then I’ll consider that an added bonus.
The phone screen blurs as my hands shake so violently, I fear I’ll drop it into the toilet.He ordered me away.He demanded that I never return.Hell, he fucking paid me money to never go back.But he’s not my boss.He’s not my owner.He sure as hell isn’t my mate.He has no claim on me or what I do.
Holding back a sob, I type in my information and send it.The pit in my stomach grows wide as I wait for it to process.With it being so close to Christmas, I’m sure the Alphas have already settled up with whoever they’re going to fuck through the holidays.I can only hope there’s someone who could want me.
Would they be kind?
Would they ravage me the way Jason threatened?
Would they hurt me?
Will it be worth it?Honestly, to see the bags disappear from Daniel’s face, to see him happy and hopeful, yes.I’d endure hell itself, if that’s what it took.My suffering means nothing if it means he’ll be okay.I’m used to looking out for me, to going without.I can’t keep forcing that onto him.
Within moments, a message pops up.Sweat beads on my forehead as I whisper it out loud to myself.“We have secured you a match.See you this evening.”
My throat goes dry as I keep reading it over and over.It can’t be real.It can’t be happening this fast.Both elation and horror settle into my gut.I’m so grateful to have a bit of extra cash this close to Christmas, but now I have to face the ramifications.
