“She told me he wants a girl to act out submission scenes for his new book. Like,reallyact them out.” I shiver, remembering her text: ‘Does that sound weird? I mean, can’t he just go to a sex club or something? Why does he have to hire a young college girl to do this?’
Hunter’s grin is wolfish. “Is she actually doing it?”
“She starts next week. I told her to call if she needs to be rescued, so be ready.”
He laughs, running a hand down my spine. “Smart girl. How’d she get the job?”
I shrug. “Apparently, the guy used some kind of matching service called Sweet Lies. It’s supposed to be very expensive and very exclusive. A little like Sanctum, actually. Have you ever heard of it?”
Hunter’s eyes go sharp for a second. “All rich men know about Sweet Lies,” he says, voice lower. “And it’s a far cry from Sanctum, trust me, because it’s more like a bimbo academy. Ever heard of those?”
I blink. “No, but I have a feeling you’re about to educate me.”
He shrugs, rolling onto his back, face to the sun. “Guys like that author dude, they don’t just want a normal assistant. They want someone moldable. Someone who’ll play along, maybe even let them fuck with her head a little. Sweet Lies screens the girls for that. They only pick the ones who want to be remade, thus the comparison to a bimbo academy.”
I think of Kat’s sassiness, and the way she always says what’s on her mind. “I don’t think Kat’s the bimbo type at all.”
Hunter just shrugs.
“For enough cash, anyone can become anything. It just depends on if the money’s right.”
I stare at him.
“Oh my god. I don’t even know what to think. Do you think she’ll be okay?”
My fiancé looks at me and grins. “I’m sure your friend will be fine. Just tell her to keep her wits about her and to make her new boss happy. It’s fine. It always is.”
Then, Hunter rolls over, pinning me to the float. He kisses me, slow and deep, one hand tangled in my hair, the other pressed to the small of my back.
“You ever want to be remade into a bimbo?” he whispers.
I slide my arms around his neck. “Only if you’re the one doing the re-making.”
He kisses my jaw, my ear, my collarbone. “Don’t tempt me.”
I grin, pulling him down on top of me. Our bodies fit, wet and sticky and perfect.
We make love right there on the float, the lake all around us, sky wide and clean overhead. There’s no hiding, no shame, just the wild joy of bodies in motion and the world spinning with us.
After, we lie tangled, skin to skin, breathing in the cold blue air.
Hunter strokes my hair, eyes on the horizon. “What do you think your friend will find up at that dude’s lake house?” he asks.
I close my eyes, picturing Kat, the handsome but eccentric author, the wild woods. “Hopefully, everything she ever wanted. And maybe a few things she’s never dreamed of.”
He laughs, and the sound echoes across the water.
“You’re going to tell me all about it when it happens, aren’t you?” he says.
I nod, giggling a bit.
“Absolutely.”
Then, we watch the sun climb the sky, the water turning to gold, and I know we’re both thinking the same thing:
The story never really ends.
It just gets better.
