What I Wouldn't Do (Hunter Hayes - Rated R)

Clientele

Frankie was brushing her teeth in the bathroom mirror the next morning, her hair still dripping from the shower, and her towel wrapped securely under her arms when Hunter came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. He rested his cheek against hers and sighed.

“Well, hey there, stranger,” Frankie said, leaning forward to spit and rinse her brush. “I thought you were going into the studio this morning. Last I heard it was ‘super important’ or something.” She laughed, trying to erase the tension she felt growing in the room, but to no avail. Hunter just turned her around and stared at her as her hands found their way into his blonde hair.

“Frankie, are you absolutely sure about this? You know how I feel about it, but if you…I mean…I’m just…ugh.” Frankie pressed a finger to his lips to silence him.

“It’s okay, Hunter. I get it. You have to trust me on this. I’m just a burden on you as it is right now. This way, you’ll have money to support your career, and I’ll at least feel like I’m helping you out a little. I’ve really thought this through, and I think it’s best. I can’t have us being so out of proportion all the time.” She laughed, but he didn’t laugh with her.

“I can’t stop you, then. But you have to promise me that you won’t get emotionally attached to any of them. Not like you did with me. Please, I can’t lose you again. I can’t.”

She kissed him for a moment, feeling his arms around her constrict. “I promise. I swear on my life. You’re it for me. Nobody could ever be better.”

He stared into her eyes for a moment, searching them, then nodded. “Okay. I love you, Frankie.”

“I love you, too, Hunter. Now go to your meeting! Get out of here!” She slapped him on the ass as he left the room, and he finally smiled at her, giving her one more kiss before he walked out of their bedroom.

Frankie perched on the edge of their bed, still dressed in her towel, and listened as the car pulled out of the driveway and rolled down the road. The moment she could no longer hear it, she burst into tears.

How had it come back to this? Why couldn’t she have taken him up on his offer to find another way? I’m no better than this. This is my legacy. It’s all I’m good at. The only thing that makes me feel useful, but it makes me feel so ugly and detestable and oh, God, I’m worthless. I’m nothing but a slut. I’m a whore and I don’t know why I do this to myself. Hunter’s going to leave me. He’s going to finally realize I’m not worth his time.

No, she thought with sudden resolve. She brushed away her tears and reached for her phone, punching in the number she’d been given for her first client of the day and pressing the “Call” button. She spoke into her end, remembering what she’d learned from her years of prior practice. I will show Hunter that he needs me…or at least needs the money I can bring in. He can’t leave me. It won’t happen. I won’t let it.

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"Hi," Frankie said, opening the door wide and letting the man in. His belly entered the foyer before his face, and his hat hid the bowl-shaped bald spot he sported. Frankie smiled as he came closer, but inside she was ready to blow chunks all over his alligator boots. 

"Hey, gorgeous," he said, his southern drawl heavy. Frankie sighed internally, missing Hunter's sweet voice. 

"Did you bring payment?" she asked, smiling sweetly at him and closing the door behind him. 

"Oh, yes," he said, fumbling around in his back pocket for a thick envelope. "I figured it'd be easier in cash."

Frankie took the envelope from him and opened it to check the contents. "It all seems to be here," she said, laying it down in the drawer by the door and coming closer to the man. She lay her hands on his chest and whispered to him sensually. 

"Where do you want me?" she asked, leaning forward to bite his revolting ear. 

"I'll be honest, sweetheart: that kitchen table looks real nice." She bit back her natural instinct to laugh at his suggestion, instead grabbing his hand and pulling him towards it. 

"I'll do whatever you want, but I don't kiss on the mouth," she said, laying back on the wood and untying the robe she was wearing, letting it drift to the floor in a puddle of silk.

He nodded, removing his shoes and shirt and coming forward to touch her. Every caress made her skin feel like it was being covered in a thick layer of sludge. Everywhere his lips touched her body made her shiver in disgust. Her fabricated moans ripped from her throat and made her feel like garbage. And when he was finally done and had left her to her shame, she couldn't even bring herself to cry. 

Why did she deserve tears?

New chapter! Any thoughts?! (:

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