The $20,000 One-Night Stand

“I’ll give you $20,000 to spend the night with me.”

What? Oh my god, this guy thinks I’m a prostitute. I told Julie this dress was too much. Even for Vegas.

I cleared my throat. “Wow, I’m not sure I should be insulted or flattered by your assumption, but I am not a… hooker,” I replied, dropping the last word to a hushed whisper. We may be in a crowded club, but I didn’t care to draw any more attention to myself.

The corners of his mouth turned up, and his demeanour, which should have given way to shock or remorse, remained relaxed and aloof.

“I did not insult you with the price. Twenty-thousand dollars for one night is a lot, is it not?” he quickly replied.

“I suppose so,” I pondered aloud. “But I gather you would know more about the value chain of paid escorts, since you’re the one in the market for one.”

He paused, and without answering the implied question, asked another, “do you have student loans?”

I had informed him moments ago that I was in Vegas to celebrate college graduation with my girlfriends, before entering the real world and taking on real responsibilities.

“Are you trying to expose my financial vulnerabilities as a means to get me to sleep with you?” I spat out.

“Maybe.”

This man had no shame. Or he was pulling my leg. Either way, it was kind of amusing, so I smiled.

“Ah, there’s the $20,000 smile.”

Then I laughed, and broke through any lingering embarrassment.

“And how much for a laugh?” I inquired.

His brows lifted and his rakish smirk spread to a genuine smile. “Well, a laugh like that is surely worth another $5,000, maybe more. Can you laugh on command or is it a sporadic occurrence? I enjoy this playful banter but I don’t think laughing will be appropriate in the bedroom.”

“I don’t know, I think the bedroom is a place for fun, and laughter and fun go hand-in-hand.” I paused thoughtfully and added, “regardless, the bedroom should never be boring.”

“Indeed not. In fact, you make it sound so wonderful that I feel compelled to remind you of my offer,” he responded seriously with an inky glare.

I broke his gaze and leaned up against the bar. “You’re a good-looking guy, apparently with money to burn - why would you need to pay for sex?”

He was good-looking. He was tall with a lean frame that allowed his button-down and jeans to hang the way they were intended. His dark hair was wavy and slightly unruly, much like his personality.

“I don’t need to, but paying for it ensures I get what I want. No need to flirt or seduce with an unknown outcome. It’s a sure thing. And I don’t have to feel like a jerk for not calling again.”

“Hmm. Why don’t you try one of those Sugar Baby websites?” I questioned him half seriously. “I’ve read that many are more or less paid sex workers. I’m sure you could find a suitable arrangement.”

“I haven’t had the best of luck with Sugar Babies, unfortunately. Some are inexperienced and nervous, some want to be treated like a real girlfriend, romance and all, and some don’t want a sexual relationship. It’s like dating to find the right one.”

I wasn’t expecting his considered reply. “Well, it sounds like you’ve thought this through and weighed your options.”

“I have. And what about your options? If I wasn’t talking to you right now, other guys would be circling, trying to get you into their beds and pull that scant piece of material you call a dress over your head and onto the floor,” he argued, surveying my body up and down. “Instead of spending the night an unskilled frat boy, why don’t you spend it with me and collect $20,000? Consider it a graduation present.”

He had a point. I planned to let go this weekend and have wild, uninhibited sex with a stranger. Why not do that, and get paid for it? Could it really be that uncomplicated and… compelling even?

“I take your silence as consideration,” he surmised.

“I’ll do it,” I replied with steadfast certainty, before I could change my mind. “Pay me upfront, grab a condom and don’t tell a soul.”

His eyes widened, then he leaned in for a hard kiss, parting my lips with his tongue and finding mine. He grabbed my waist and pulled me close, his anticipation clear with his erection pressing against my abdomen. His right hand moved up to cup my breast while his left grabbed my backside. I groaned and moved my hand up to his neck and through his unruly hair. He responded by pulling me tighter, before slowly relaxing and biting my bottom lip. He lifted his head and stared straight through me.

“Let’s go. Now,” he instructed and grabbed my hand. He led me out of the club and into the elevator. He pushed the button for the penthouse floor and backed me against the back shaft, with his body blocking mine from view. His head grazed my neck and he started sucking on the sensitive nook between my neck and collarbone, building an ache between my legs and moistening my sex. His left hand moved up my thigh, under my dress and found my bare, slippery opening. His eyes widened and glistened with approval to find me without undergarments.

“Yes,” I breathed into his ear, oblivious to any bystanders in the elevator. He could have entered me at that moment, and I would have let him. Thankfully, the bell rang for our floor, and he withdrew.

He pulled me off the elevator and soon I was pushed up against the door of his penthouse suite. His mouth was on mine and his hands grabbed my ass and lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around him, and he fumbled for the key card.

“Fuck me, here, now!” I heard myself pleading into his ear.

“Settle, vixen. I doubt you want to give the hotel security a peep show,” he chuckled and opened the door with the found key card.

“Bed,” I ordered in between rushed kisses. We hadn’t made it past the other side of the door.

“Who’s calling the shots now?” he smiled into my mouth as he carried me down the hall to the bedroom.

I grunted acknowledgement and pulled my dress over my head in one swift movement and threw it on the floor. I wasn’t wearing a bra either. No wonder he thought I was in the market for sex. It was a sex dress.

“Efficient,” he mumbled and threw me onto the bed. He swiftly pulled down his pants and briefs, leaving them in a pool at his feet.

I rose off the bed and started unbuttoning his shirt and he threw me back down on the mattress, and turned me over. I heard a condom wrapper rip open and a moan as he slipped it onto his erect penis. He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me to the edge of the bed, straddling my hips.

“This is going to be hard and fast. I need to release this tension. Then we will do it again slowly and savour the moment,” he instructed hoarsely. Then, he slid inside me with one swift movement.

I mumbled incoherently and groaned audibly with pleasure as he thrust in and out with force. His fingers dug into my hips and then one hand was in my hair, tugging it for leverage.

“Does that feel good? Can you come for me, baby girl?”

“Yes, anything you want. Please,” I begged. My body coiled, ready for release on command.

“Come. Now,” he barked.

I squealed and I exploded around him until my body went lax, a vessel for his own pleasure.

“Fuck!” he yelled and I felt him spasm inside me. His body convulsed and he fell onto my back and wrapped his arms around my stomach for support. He laid there on me like this for a few minutes, breathing heavily until he slowly pulled up and out of me.

“That was…”

“Yeah.”

“... worth the $20,000.”

I peered over my shoulder and saw a big grin plastered on his face. I turned my body over and propped myself up with my elbows to get a better view. His pants were still wrapped around his ankles and his shirt remained mostly buttoned. I was all of a sudden aware of the contrast to my nakedness and reached for a sheet cover.

“Don’t,” he pleaded softly. He stepped out of his pants and pulled his shirt over his head. He reached for his phone and sat down on the bed next to me. He placed the phone in my hands and instructed me to enter my email for the money transfer.

I watched as he swiftly transferred $20,000 to me, and waited for the text alert on my phone. “I guess I forgot to collect beforehand. I’m bad at this," I let out in forced exasperation.

“You most certainly are not,” he smiled and then pinned me down against the mattress for a slow and sensual kiss.

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Two equally-thrilling rounds later and his limbs were wrapped lazily around my body as he snored softly next to me. I stared up at the ceiling, willing myself not to overthink what just happened.

Slowly, I removed myself from his grasp and slid off the bed. I gently closed the door to the bedroom, tiptoed down the hall to my discarded dress, and slipped it over my head. I reached the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. Looking up, I could see the floor-to-ceiling windows offering a spectacular view of the Las Vegas Strip. I walked over and peered out, lazily taking it all in. I felt ok with all this. In fact, I felt pretty good.

A few minutes later I made my way to the desk in the seating area, where I planned to leave a note. His laptop and a little black Moleskine sat atop the desk. I flipped to the first free page in the notebook and wrote “For a good time call…” and then my phone number.

I moved to the suite door and turned back, taking in the scene one last time. I didn’t know if I would see him again or if I would do this again, but I would not regret the experience, be it the first and the last.

I opened and shut the door behind me, with my head held high and a smile on my face.