Shit.
I need to keep it together here. I still don’t even know what the hell he wants from me ...
“What about girls?” he says with a playful smile, catching me totally off guard.
The heat increases in my cheeks, sizzling now, as I shake my head again.
“Girls either,” I say in an almost whisper. “So, Mr Whitelaw,” I continue, trying to summon any remaining scraps of confidence, “what exactly do you want from me? I mean, I still don’t know why you’ve even paid for my ticket here. What is it about girls ... likemethat you like exactly?”
At this, he sits back casually in his chair, obviously thinking the question over, taking his time before he replies.
“That’s a good question,” he says slowly. “Well, Jennifer, I suppose I should be a little more forthcoming about our possiblearrangement. As you can probably guess, I am a very busy man. I have a lot of responsibilities here at Whitelaw Enterprises. And I imagine there was perhaps one particular word in my advert that drew your attention to it, was there not?”
“There was,” I admit, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow me.
“And what word was that, Jennifer?”
I blush even harder, squirming in my seat. Is he really going to make mesayit?
“Virgin,” I whisper.
“That’s right,” he says. “Virgins fascinate me, Jennifer. I find myself drawn towards the mix of innocence and curiosity that a girl like you no doubt possesses. After all, aren’t you dying to find out what all the fuss is about?”
I turn my burning face away from him, unable to speak. But he continues on regardless ...
“There’s nothing more intriguing to me than opening up a young woman to all the sexual possibilities – all the many things that lay before her. However, increasingly, as I’m sure you’re aware, a virgin is a hard thing to come across. And so I find myself in the rather frustrating position of having toadvertisefor one ... And even then, there weren’t exactly hundreds of suitable applicants if you know what I mean ... But enough about me. I want to know a little more about you, Jennifer. Have you doneanything at allwith a boy?”
I think hard about my limited experience: nothing more than a few fumbled kisses, a few awkward fondles, then shake my head, feeling my heart booming loud in my ears and my cheeks so hot now they feel like they might catch fire.
“Very good,” he replies with a smile. “I think that you’reexactlywhat I’m looking for. So, I suppose you’d like me to explain a little more about the arrangement, correct?”
I nod, totally lost for words – totally transfixed and pinned into place by this strange and captivating man.
It all feels so unreal; like something out of a corny novel.
“I would take possession of you for one week. And during that time, Jennifer, you would bemine– to do with as I pleased. Do you understand what I mean by this?”
“I, uh, I think so ...” I croak in reply.
“I want totakeyou, Jennifer. I want to teach you. I want totasteyou. And by the end of the week ... I want tohaveyou. Do you understand what I’m getting at?”
I can tell that he’s getting excited as he talks. There’s this devilish, animal glint in his eye, and I feel my palms going clammy and a cold sweat breaking out on my skin. I feel myself shaking my head and moving, too, getting ready to push myself up out of my seat and get the hell out of here. I mean, I guess Iknewdeep down that it was gonna be something sexual – something skeezy and creepy. But even so, I feel totally uncomfortable as he speaks, totally out of my depth, and now all I wanna do is leave.
“I’m sorry,” I begin, pushing myself unsteadily to my feet. “I think there’s been some kind of mistake ...”
“Oh, come off it, Jennifer,” he chides, his voice growing cold all of a sudden and his mouth curling in a venomous sneer. “What the hell did youthinkan advert for a Virgin Wanted would be about? Did you think I was asking you to come here to help pet kittens?”
“I’m really sorry, Mr Whitelaw,” I repeat, backing away from him now, feeling churned up, my head spinning, my stomach twisted with nausea, not to mention just a little bitafraidof him.
And as I move away, he gets up from the desk too, walking out from behind it, striding quickly towards me, towering over me, his eyes so cold and piercing.
“You’re telling me that you’re about to walk out onone million dollars?” he hisses.
I stop dead in my tracks, scanning his face. But this is no joke – he’s being totally and utterly serious.
“Onemilliondollars?” I repeat in a whisper.
He nods his head, slowly.
