The Dirty Part

Chapter One

Laughter. Complete and utter humiliating, deep, belly-aching laughter. That was the only response she would ever get from Jason Macke. How could he react any other way to this ridiculous notion she had. She tried to steady her uneven breathing, tugging at the hem of the black skirt riding its way up the thin expanse of her thigh. But then, Jason Macke did not laugh.

So what should she expect then? A cold sneer perhaps, a blank stare seeing right through her pale and frightened figure, a dubious eyebrow raise of quick and scathing judgement? She snorted lightly. Certainly not interest. Certainly not lust. She played the word over and over in her mind. She knew of him even if she’d never met him. He only took girls home for one reason. She had only one chance to catch his eye and if she failed, she paused and shuttered. No, she wasn’t going home alone again tonight, she couldn’t.

Suddenly the fear of what awaited her should she fail overpowered any trepidation she had about facing the all daunting Jason Macke and she straightened up to her full height of five four, brushing a long black curl over her shoulder. It didn’t matter that her hips were not voluptuous. It didn’t matter that her thighs were so thin the gap between them was enough to stick her fist through.

She set her teeth raising her chin to gaze in the dark shadowed mirror on the grungy bathroom wall. She barely recognized the sharp, sleep-deprived eyes that pierced through her, pale blue-green and hollow. She had to make him see her as a woman, though she was barely twenty and he must be nearly twenty three by now. More important she had to make him want her, more than the other tantalizing women draped across the packed floor of the bar that blared music she could feel in the soles of her feet.

She had painted on smoky black eyeliner extending in perfect wing tips. Her cheeks were deeply blush colored on her pale skin, which was drained from the stress of it all. Her bangs fell coyly across one eye before sweeping over her noticeably more pronounced cheek bone since she’d started losing weight. Her lips that were too thin to ever be considered tempting, were filled in with a deep crimson velvet red that once would’ve offset her natural, small part Native American, skin tone, but now stood out sharply.

Still she looked fierce and bold, as she had too if she wanted him to take her seriously. In the brief oasis of the restroom she felt her meek nature threaten to emerge and swallowed it down roughly, clutching tight with slender hands the rim of the cracked sink basin. There was no room for weakness here.

There was so many things a woman must be to be valued by men, if the television standards were anything to go by; alluring, seductive, powerful, charming, flawless, sexy, it was more than she would ever be. She knew she had better put on a hell of a show if this was going to work.

Jason was perfect. His house was far from her own, just off the edge of town, away from everyone. Even if she was found his reputation was enough to make anyone think twice, though the odds of that were astronomical. No one would ever think to look for her there. Not in a million years. Shy, reserved, thoughtful Joann with Jason Macke was an idea that still made her own head spin though she was the one that had been forming the plan for a week now.

She’d bought the top a few days ago, a plunging V was her only hope in the lust department. The rest of her body might be stick thin, but her breasts were a C cup now, and with the push up she’d also bought, they flowed into the top nicely, soft bulges under the smooth fabric. She’d heard that the deep shade of red she’d chosen was supposed to signal desire to men. She didn’t know if it was really true.