“It’s not just physical. It gets into your head. I know we’re not the same, Lizzy, but I have trouble believing you’d be happy if you just sold it to some random man.” Her nose wrinkles. “What if they’re ugly or old or they want to do disturbing things?”
“Well, for one, the buyer could probably be a woman or nonbinary person. And for two, they can’t be criminals.” Richard told me that much. “I can even decline them if I want and choose another bidder. And if we leave the premises, I’ll have the option of taking along a team of guards.”
“So they’re renting you? For a night? For a few hours?” Suri looks aghast. “Lizzy, if this is about money, if it’s about Cross—and after what you did today I know it is—”
“But it’s not,” I interject. I’m waving my arms now, my heart beating too hard as it becomes clear to me how much Suri’s opinion matters. I don’t want her to see me differently. I don’t want her pity or revulsion. I want her support.
I think, not for the first time, how ridiculous it is that someone taking charge of their sexual assets, someone like me who’s making money off them, is looked down upon. I can’t wait to write about this.
“It’s not about money, not completely. It’s about me doing something interesting, doing something that I want. I see it the opposite of how you do. I’m tired of waiting for the right guy. As you’ve known for years now, he doesn’t exist.” She opens her mouth, I’m sure to say something like ‘You could meet him tomorrow,’ so I beat her to the point. “I don’t even think I’d want to lose it to a boyfriend, to be a virgin when he’s not. A twenty-three-year-old virgin.” I make a face. “I want to go ahead and experience this, put it behind me. And if I can make half a million dollars in the process, what’s wrong with that? In fact...”
I trail off, because Suri’s mouth is hanging open. “Did you say half a million dollars?”
“Maybe,” I say, like it doesn’t matter.
Suspicion pinches her features as she stands up, grabbing for a napkin on the counter and using it to dab her mouth. She lowers the napkin and frowns. “So this is about Cross.”
“It’s about me,” I insist.
“You’re not planning to use the money to pay for his medical bills which, you know, you told a judge you would pay?”
I open my mouth then close it, not sure what to say. Suri’s eyes narrow to slits. “I saw the news today, Lizzy DeVille. I’m your bestie, not a moron. Remember, I have money. I can help. I’m Cross’s friend, too. In fact, I think it would be a travesty if you went out selling...selling yourself, when I’m right here and perfectly willing to help Cross.”
“You just bought this huge house, Sur. Listen to me.” I catch her hand in mine. I press our joined hands on top of the stylish flowered table mats, which coordinate perfectly with the green gingham table cloth beneath them. “Have I ever done anything I regretted? Have I ever made a really big, bad, stupid choice, one I ended up hating myself for?”
“There’s a first time for everything,” she says. “I have money, and I want to use it to help Cross. You need to let me and forget this craziness.”
I shake my head. “This is something I want to do. It’ll be an experience. And as for money, this was my idea. If you had extra money to throw around, I have no doubt you would have already thrown it. You can chip in if you want, but I’m doing this, too,” I say vehemently. “You might not understand, because you’ve had sex. You’ve done it. I’m just...waiting. Like...I don’t know...a dairy product outside the refrigerator.”
Suri screws her face up, then lets out a little hoot. “Did you just take the extremely anti-feminist stance that you are somehow spoiling?”
“No! All I’m saying is it’s bugging me. That I haven’t done it. I feel like...the suspense is just getting to me. I’d like to have it done.”
“What about...opinions?” she asks quietly.
I squeeze her hand and let it go. “I’ll be using another name, and my face will be shadowed the night of bidding. When they advertise me, it’ll just be my body on billboards or whatever. No one will know.”
I’ve already called Richard back and asked him not to reveal my true identity to anyone, even—especially—Marchant Radcliffe, Hunter’s friend. Marchant owns Love Inc., the mega-brothel where the deed is getting done.
Suri’s eyes are swimming with tears, and I feel a spark of annoyance.
“I know you’re just showing me you care, and I appreciate it, Sur, I really do. But I’ll be back in two weeks or so, just the same as I am now, but a little more experienced. I’m having one sexual encounter with likely a man, who’ll likely be very nice to me, and I’ll have more protection than the Pope. I’m okay with this. It’s my choice.”