Chapter 3

CHAPTER

THREE

HARPER

“Can I borrow your mascara,” Nikki shouts as she lets herself into my bathroom.

“This isn’t the worst idea we’ve ever had, is it?” I respond over the spray of the shower. When she doesn’t answer, I pull back the shower curtain to ensure she didn’t grab my mascara and run. I find her standing at the bathroom sink, curling her hair. “Nik?”

“I was working out how to answer.” She unwinds the curling iron from her long, blonde hair before turning to face me. “You fucked Cal, right?”

“Football Cal?” I clarify.

“Yes,” she rolls her eyes. “Did you fuck another Cal too?”

“No,” I laugh. “And yes, I fucked Football Cal.”

“And what did you get for that?”

“You mean other than a Plan B?” I jest.

“Exactly.” She flails her hands in the air and returns to curling her hair. “You date all these college boys, and you’re lucky to get a cheeseburger and a beer out of them. Even luckier if they even remotely try and make you come.”

She’s not wrong.

The last guy I went out with was under the impression that three items off the dollar menu had basically paid for his right to fuck me in the ass. Considering how absolutely oblivious he was to the concept of foreplay— or a clitoris —my ass was definitely not on the menu for him.

“This is one night,” she continues. “We suck it up and let some rich, fat, old bald dude that probably can’t even keep it up without a little blue pill fuck us for the night. Then, we come home with enough money to pay off our undergrad student loans. And still have enough left over to pay for grad school, our apartment, a new car, and a shit ton of fun for a while.”

“It’s an investment,” I summarize.

“Exactly!” she exclaims. “Do you know of an easier way to make a million dollars? I don’t make near that with any of the Daddies I date.”

I shake my head and mutter, “I guess I’m just nervous.”

Unlike Nikki, I haven’t taken the sugar daddy plunge yet. I signed up for the app with her a few months ago—which I’m sure is how they found me for tonight’s party—but I haven’t actually gone on a date or met up with any of the guys on there. Letting some disgusting old guy sweat all over me for a few minutes doesn’t quite seem worth it.

Although the apartment Nikki’s current Daddy is basically footing the bill for is quite nice.

Way nicer than either of us could afford.

“It’s just sex,” she shrugs. “What is there to be nervous about? It’s not like you’re selling your virginity. You’ve fucked plenty of guys for the hell of it. I know, I’ve been there for several of them.”

“Twice,” I correct her. Not that it makes a difference. “We’ve fucked two guys together. And I’ve told you, it’s not the same for me as it is for you.”

“And I’m telling you, I still don’t believe you. No one eats pussy like that and doesn’t actually enjoy it,” she smirks.

“Whatever.” I throw a hand towel at her as she walks from the bathroom.

It’s not a lie.

She’s the only woman I’ve ever been with—always as the two of us joining a guy—but I’m definitely not sexually attracted to her or any other woman for that matter. They just don’t do it for me. I do enjoy it, though. I come. She comes. It’s fun, but that’s it.

Sex with men isn’t much different, other than the coming part most of the time. That usually doesn’t happen. There is no denying that I like men, but something about sex is missing. It’s definitely not the fireworks and explosions that I hear some girls talk about.

The closest I get to that is the drawer of power tools in my nightstand.

“Ten minutes,” Nik pops her head back in the doorway. “The driver just texted, and he’ll be here in ten minutes.”

“Fuck.” I hastily apply the last of my makeup.

“Don’t worry. I already laid the clothes they sent over on your bed.” She sets my mascara on the vanity. “And I’m just going to go on record here, I could get very used to five-hundred-dollar panties.”

“To what?” I scoff.

“Did you not look in your box earlier? La Perla lingerie, Valentino dresses, and Jimmy Choos.” She slides her hands over the sleek black dress hugging her body. “You don’t go back to off-the-rack stuff after this.”

Quickly finishing my makeup, I head to my room and look at the clothes spread across the foot of my bed. They are gorgeous. Luxurious. And they probably cost as much as a month’s rent for our apartment.

It's one night.

How bad could it be?