Exposed to You (9 page)

His words ran through my mind: “I’m not asking if you
enjoyed getting spanked, though I’m dying to ask.”

No
.

I could feel myself getting riled up again, despite the
nice time we’d had together, so I closed my email, jumped out of bed and paced
my room a few times before I began changing.

How could anyone like getting spanked?

As I marched into the bathroom and began brushing my
teeth, my anger grew until I was fuming that he had actually had the balls to
ask me that question. I was also angry that it was getting to me.

No, I did not like getting spanked,
thank-you-very-much, Mr. King!

I shoved my toothbrush back into the holder and stared
at my flushed expression in the mirror. There was no doubt he’d liked it,
however—that he was into that sort of thing. But was I?

I closed my eyes, and all I could see was an imagined
image of me bent over his bed before his hand came down with a smack. The way I
must have looked! It was beyond embarrassing. The memory of how it went down
seemed burned into my memory.

I’d heard the snap of the shutter and then he’d
approached me, his hands on my bottom and then my thighs…

I shivered, went back to my room and wrapped myself up
in my covers again, unable to stop the memory from playing out again in my
mind.

He spanked me and the shutter went again, and then he
slipped his fingers between my legs…

I threw the covers over my head. He’d
tested
whether or not I’d liked it… And liked it or not, my body had given him the
answer he’d wanted. It didn’t matter what I told him now; he’d asked me the
question because he believed I did. Maybe he wanted me to realize it too. Maybe
he planned to make me so confused and unsure that I would go to him and accept
his deal, dying to find out the answer.  

I groaned and rolled over, curling myself into a little
ball. Like it or not, his plan was working.

***

The next day, Sam and Luke arrived and helped me load up
Sam’s SUV with all my stuff. They even helped me take apart my bed, Luke
carrying the heaviest pieces, like the headboard and baseboard, down the
flights of stairs. I must have thanked him a million times for helping me out
with it, feeling bad the entire time that I hadn’t had a boyfriend to help
carry things as well. Sam just put an arm around me and told me not to worry
about it.

It was hard not to be jealous watching Sam and Luke
interact. They seemed to just get each other the way couples do in movies, the
way I’d never thought could happen in real life. My ex-boyfriends consisted of
jerks and losers, starting with guys that barely graduated High School and
ending with those that had cheated on me or used me in some way, usually sex or
money or both. So Dallon King had been right on the money when he’d insinuated
that I’d never had a boyfriend that had cared about me. It had always been me
doing the caring, and I’d had my heart broken more than I cared to admit.

Dallon King would not be an addition to that list.

I watched as Luke closed the hatch on the back of the
SUV and leaned down to plant a kiss on Sam’s perfect, straight nose. She smiled
up at him before wrapping her arms around his waist and giving him a quick
squeeze. Then we all climbed into the SUV and made our way to Brooklyn.

“How’s your place?” I asked as we drove.

Sam turned around in the passenger seat to beam at me.
“It’s amazing, Amy! I’m so excited. We’re really having a great time and are
going furniture shopping tomorrow.”

“That’s great,” I smiled, pushing down the twinge of
jealousy that had risen into my stomach. Sam was my best friend and I was happy
for her.

“So what did you get up to last night?” Sam asked.

I looked out the window and tried to sound casual. “I
was supposed to meet up with Jer to meet his new girlfriend, but I went out for
drinks instead.”

“Jeremy has a girlfriend that isn’t you? I’m surprised.”

I laughed awkwardly. “We’re just friends. I wanted to
meet her. I guess I will another time. Her name’s Isobel.”

“Hmm,” Sam said thoughtfully. “So who did you go for
drinks with?”

I sighed inwardly. Sam always wanted to know what I was
up to, not just because we were best friends, but also because she was super
maternal and generally interested in other people. It was one of the things I
liked best about her and the reason she hoped to focus on Family Law.

There was no way I could lie to her, but I knew she
would get super excited and interested once I told her who I had gone for
drinks with. It would be a subject that would be difficult to skirt over in the
future.

“His name is Dallon King. I met him the other day. He came
into the café and asked if I wanted to go for drinks after work.”

Luke whistled loudly. “Dallon King. I’ve heard of him.”

I rolled my eyes. Great. Another one.

Sam glanced at Luke, and I could see her wheels turning.
“How? Who is he?”

“He’s in securities, a high position of some sort, but
he also collected donations to start a charity to protect animals. I think it’s
a shelter or something,” he said, shrugging it off. “Anyway, he’s maybe thirty
and super wealthy.”

“Nice!” Sam turned back to me and smiled appreciatively.
“A shelter for animals… He must be a really nice guy.”

I made a noise that could have passed for an
affirmation. If pressed.

“Is he good-looking?” Sam didn’t glance at Luke before
asking, but I saw him glance at her.

“Yeah, he is. I think he knows it, too.”

“Arrogant?”

“Definitely arrogant. But it’s more that he is where he
is, and I’m where I am, and—”

Sam cut me off before I could continue. “I know where
you’re going with that, and it’s dumb. You’re hot, smart, and a good person,
Amy. If this guy has a charity for sheltering pets, he’s probably just as kind
and appreciates that about you. In addition to you being hot, of course,” she
winked.

“Yeah, maybe. Thanks,” I squirmed a little, not feeling
comfortable receiving a compliment under the circumstances, and especially with
Luke being in the car. If he weren’t, I might have told Sam I suspected there
was more to Dallon King than met the eye; that he was into some sex stuff I
might not be. What would the lawyer term for it be—sexual deviance?

Sam sighed loudly. “I can tell you don’t believe me. But
just because Michael was an ass doesn’t mean he will be too.”

“I think she gets it,” Luke said gently and patted Sam
on her knee.

“I just wish she saw how amazing she is too.”

Luke laughed and looked at me in the rear-view mirror.
“Do you know how amazing you are, Amy?”

I laughed in response. “Yep. Totally amazing.”

Sam punched Luke playfully on his arm and faced forward
in her seat again. “All right, let’s change the subject from the smoldering,
wealthy animal lover. But I want details later.”

***

Once Luke and Sam helped me set up the bed and roll the
mattress over its frame, I told them they could take off.

“I really appreciate your help and I don’t want to take
any more of your time. I’m just going to make the bed, unpack a bit and put my
artwork up.”

“Why don’t you come out with us for dinner?” Luke asked,
eying my “kitchen” and its pathetic hotplate. I was personally delighted that
the landlord Bran had thrown in a small bar fridge after I’d signed the lease.

“I’m not really hungry and want to start decorating
right away.”

“Let her get to it,” Sam said, most likely empathizing
with my desire to make the place livable as soon as possible.

“All right, if you say so.” Luke pulled me into a bear
hug. “Congrats, kiddo. We’ll see you soon.”

Sam gave me a hug and left after I promised to fill her
in on any new developments with Dallon King. I also promised her there wouldn’t
be anything new.

It took me three hours to unpack, put up my art and put
the sheets on my bed.  Then I changed into a pair of pink flannel pajamas and
crawled into bed. I had to work the next morning, so I set an alarm on my
iPhone before searching for free Wi-Fi networks. I wasn’t in luck. It looked
like I was going to have to get used to checking my email at the cafe; I’d had
to drop my data plan a few months ago in order to save money.

Without the distraction of the Internet, I had too much
time to think. I needed to find time this week to search for a job. Three
months was going to go by quickly, and I’d already burned a week with this new
job and moving.

If only I could find a job that paid as much as Dallon
King had offered me, I would send him an email boasting about my success. My
excitement at this idea deflated, however, when I realized that he probably
would be happy for me. Even though he’d stepped too far the night of our shoot,
and despite the fact that his intentions and his means of getting what he
wanted were entirely messed up, I’d seen a side of him the night before that
told me he could be a nice, caring person underneath. He wanted me to succeed.
That was what made me feel a bit sad I wouldn’t be seeing him anymore—now that
I’d entirely turned down his offer.

My thoughts then traveled to what he might be up to now,
on a Saturday night. He’d made no attempt to hide the fact that he’d been with
multiple women. Where did he find them? At a club? And then what did he do when
he got them home, told them he wanted to spank them and take their picture?
He’d said some women had asked him to take their picture. Had they asked to be
spanked too?

Or maybe he was at home, sitting on his leather couch
and watching a movie on his sixty-inch LED, wall-mounted television, with a
fire dancing in his marble fireplace. Or maybe even helping out at his shelter,
showing his kind side while petting all the homeless animals.

This last image was too much. I got out of bed and
searched through my purse until I found my earphones. Then I plugged them into
my phone and fell asleep listening to the audiobook version of
Alice in
Wonderland
.

A week went by and I hadn’t had any luck finding a job.
It didn’t really help that I had no idea what I was looking for. If only a
Sketching Teaching Assistant position really existed, I’d be all over that.

One night as Jackson and I split up our measly tips, he
asked me how my job search was going and I informed him of my non-progress.

“If I were a chick, I’d be a server,” he said.

“You know servers can be male too, right?” I teased.

“It’s not the same. Chicks can make a killing working at
a club or one of those bars men go to after work. That’s what you should do.
You’d get hit on like crazy and make mad tips. And the men you’d meet…” he
whistled and winked.

I accepted the $4.75 I’d earned over my eight-hour shift
from him and sighed. “If I can’t find a job in the next month, I’m probably
going to have to do that. I just hate those kinds of places. Going to them, let
alone working at them.”

Jackson smiled a sideways smile. “Just have to learn to
ignore the creeps.”

That was definitely something I’d struggle with; I
couldn’t stop blushing around Dallon King and I got visibly uncomfortable when
men made lewd comments to me.

I filled the mop bucket with water and added soap,
chatting without looking at him. “I’m also not sure I’d be very good at it. I’d
probably forget people’s orders.”

“You’d get the hang of it. Anyway, I’m not sure how much
longer I’ll stay here either. It sucks making minimum wage.”

“Tell me about it,” I sighed. Maybe he was right and I
should look into serving at a place like that. “Hey, if I were to serve, where
would you recommend?”

“Mix. Hands down. They only hire cute girls and I’ve
heard they do really well there.” He studied me for a moment. “Though, I’m not
sure it’s the place for you.”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s a huge meat market and maybe not the best
place to start serving. And you’re pretty… sweet.”

I frowned. If one more person called me sweet, I was
going to blow. I took a deep breath before responding, “I’m not completely
naïve, you know.”

Jackson laughed and held up his hands playfully. “I
know, I know. I’ve seen you and that guy you claim isn’t your boyfriend. I just
meant if you’re worried about it, maybe not the best place to start. It’s a
huge meat market.”

I bit my lip in thought. “Yeah, but it pays the most.
What’s the point in going halfway?”

Jackson grinned. “My thoughts exactly. Look ‘em up.”

The next day, that’s what I did. The entire process was
creepy, but I’d expected that. When I arrived at the bar, I asked a server if I
could talk to her manager. I was dressed nicely in a skirt and blazer with high
heels. The manager was slightly overweight and looked me up and down before
asking me to come to the back for an interview. There, he introduced me to his assistant
manager, who also made no effort to hide that he was checking me out, and then
they proceeded to measure me. They claimed it was for the uniform, but I had a
feeling there was more to it, like they only hired servers with certain
measurements.