WLW OneShots

Craved

I was on my way to deliver some (some? More like a ton) packages to... a model? An actor? I have no idea. But judging by the amount of fan mail (yes, I've checked) I'm holding in four huge bags, it seems to be someone who must be handsome. Like hella handsome. Even though I have to take the stairs to reach the 13th floor because the elevator is out of use, I anticipate to see someone handsome or beautiful. I expect to be compensated for taking the stairs. I could be an asshole and just make sure the registration takes the bags but my boss always tells me to be the one to deliver. You never know who might turn out to be an asshole, so don't you dare be the asshole, he'd say.

Seriously, this penthouse perplex seems so fancy and reeks of rich. I got checked twice by security guards and it took each of them 30 minutes to let me pass through. Sometimes I hate this job but I know that I can't be picky. Not now.
I promised Lydia to organize an unforgettable 10th birthday. She didn't insist, I did. Whenever I saw her face. Whenever I saw those big blue eyes getting shot diamonds on by the sunlight. Whenever she'd watch her friends unbox huge presents. Whenever that sad smile curled at the corner of her lips. Whenever she'd make sure that I wouldn't notice how much she desires to wear beautiful princess gowns.

I can't let our situation ruin her. I can't let the same that happened to me happen to her. She deserves so much more, so goddamn more.
So I take all my strength to finally make it to the 13th floor. I take a minute to collect myself and look presentable. I hope my cheeks didn't color into a hot red. As I reach the door to the penthouse, I hear muffled moans and laughter. Great, I had hoped this one would be a decent delivery for once. Knocking, I expect to wait for a couple minutes but to my surprise 10 seconds later the door opened.

Oh.
A tall, beautiful woman appears in front of me. She is in a white tank top with gray sweatpants while her fluffy hair falls down to her shoulders. The muscles on her arms aren't too big, just toned enough. While her lips are beautifully oval shaped with just a bit of a pink coloring to them, her neck is covered in red lipstick marks. While I admire her astounding presence, she clears her throat.

"Hello, this is for... Sade Wilson." I say.
"Ah yes, come on in." She steps to the side, opening the door enough to fit me and the bags through. I stand in the middle of a huge room only now aware that she wasn't alone. A naked woman, no. I take a look around the penthouse. Not one. Not two. But five women lingering everywhere around. They look so stoned, totally unaware of my presence. Just when I'm about to drop the bags, Wilson tells me to follow her.

Wilson opens another door which leads to an office. Everything is almost covered in brown leather. Talk about rich. I drop the bags to the brown sofa in front of the big desk. As I'm about to leave, I bump into Wilson who is (was) standing behind me.
"My apologies." I say while holding my hand to my nose. She just looks down at me through her nose and opens her mouth but closes it again.
"Did you take the stairs?" Wilson finally speaks into the void.
"Yes." I press my lips together to moisten them.
Her eyes follow as she replies with a simple hm. Finally, she steps aside gesturing me to leave.

Once I left the penthouse I felt like I could breathe again. It's not that I felt uncomfortable. I just didn't like the fact that it felt like I was inside a club getting interrogated by some mobster.
Well, whatever. It's not like I'll ever return again.

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Dammit. It's not like I'll ever return again, my ass. This is the 15th time in two months in which I found myself back in this cursed penthouse. The elevator still hasn't been fixed and I still get checked by security guards. Not just one time, but every time I return, one of them tries to hit on me. I've been told to use my face and tall body for something that brings in good money but I can't leave Lydia just to receive some model training.
I thought of leaving the fan mail at the registration but apparently Ms. Wilson requested to explicitly get her fan mail delivered by the delivery woman. She doesn't want to risk to lose any of it.

When I finally leave her empty penthouse once again, I curse to myself. Never have I met someone as annoying as her. On my way down, I barely notice that someone is walking past me. I bump into them and spill all the coffee they held on to their clothes.
"Oh my god! I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" I panic.
"Why don't you lift your eyes to watch where you're going? Look at this mess." The woman appears to carry a distaste on her face for me. Well, no wonder.

"I'm really sorry. I-"
"Pay me back." The woman cuts me off.
I finally take a good look at her and can't help but notice. She seems to be ridiculously rich.
"I-"
"This is Armani, yeah? Do you know what that means?" She cuts me off again. "I expect the payment by the end of the week. Here is my card."
And with that she left me there in the lobby, fazed.

I'm finally getting back to my senses when someone tells me to move out of the way. I can't afford this. I can't let this happen. I need to find a way to- Calm down, Shay. Don't panic. You got this. If you think carefully, you saved enough to afford an older car. If you're lucky, her clothes altogether could cost around 800$. Maybe lesser, maybe- who am I kidding? I'm fucked. I can't give up all of my savings. I can't. I can't. I can't.
After a moment, it hits me. Either you try to work your ass off and try to negotiate or...

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"You can use me but give me money in return."
I watch the blonde delivery woman in front of me, standing just a few inches shorter than me. I was trying to have my daily nap when a violent ringing sounded from my door. First I thought it was my manager but I got surprised by Shay (I got to learn her name the few times she came over). I cross my arms over my chest and lift my chin.
"Why would I want to use you?" I scoff. I might have purposely ordered the registration to not accept any mail of mine just so I could see the flushed cheeks of Shay. But that doesn't mean I want to do her... or does it?

Shay surprisingly lifts her chin back in response to meet my eyes. Determination, I see. She steps into my penthouse, now only a few inches separating our lips. I couldn't help but notice the small birthmark below her lower lip. I want to taste it. I want to taste her everything.
"Don't be ridiculous. I know you want me." Shay whispers.
Fucking hell. She smells so fucking sweet. I know the tint of sweat in the sweetness I smell should put me off, I dislike uncleanliness. But for some reason it's different with her. It has always been different with her. If I want a woman, I whisper sweet nothings into her ear, tell her how pretty she is, fuck her and then leave. It's that easy. But Shay. Goddamnit. I want to get to know her as I fuck her. I want to thread my fingers through her curly blond hair. I want to lose myself in those gray eyes of hers.

"What if I told you that there is no need for you? I can get whoever I want." I state.
"That's true." Shay agrees. "But Wilson. Even if you fuck every single woman you come across..." she leans in closer to my ear, "you'll still crave me."
The last thing I knew were that I tasted that small pink mouth of hers.