All Chapters of Contracted: My One-Night Stand Happened to be My Professor : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

ALEXANDER I'm reading.The words blur on the page. I've been staring at the same sentence for five minutes. My glass of Old Fashioned sits on the table, the ice long melted, the whiskey watered down. I don't drink it. I never do. I just order it. The routine is the point.This place is the only place where I can escape the hurricane of my life. Here, I'm just a man with a book and a drink. Anonymous. Invisible.I glance at my watch. 6:15. Almost time to leave. Back to the cold penthouse. Back to the silence."Excuse me?"A voice cuts through my reading. Female. Young. I don't look up."I was wondering—"I set my book aside. Slowly. I look up.She's standing there. The waitress from earlier. She's served me a few times. Not today, though. Her shift must have ended.Brown hair. Messy. Glasses. She's short. Maybe five foot five. Her eyes are brown. Warm. But there's something behind them. Something raw. Something broken.She looks nervous. Her hands fidget. She's wearing a thin coat. Sh

ALEXANDER I look at her sprawled out on my bed.Her legs are spread. Her face is flushed. Her chest is heaving. She's a mess. Beautiful and broken and desperate.I feel sorry for her. I wonder what pushed her to such a desperate request. What kind of pain makes a woman walk up to a stranger and ask to be fucked?Desperate or not, it doesn't matter. She wants to erase a memory. I'll simply install a new one.This.I tilt my head, studying her. She's not done. She did as she was told. Lying on her back. Legs spread. Waiting.Good girl.I stroke my dick as I make my way between her parted legs. She's still shaking from cumming. But I'm not going to let her breathe. Not going to let her think. For this night to be unforgettable, I have to fuck the memory out of her.I tear another packet of condom with my teeth. Roll it on. It's a tight fit. My size makes it hard, the friction making me hiss. She's still panting, watching me through half-lidded eyes.I lean over her. My hand traces a thi

MIA A month passes in a flash.I've been too busy preparing for school to think about anything else. Packing. Buying textbooks. Filling out forms. Charlotte has been amazing—letting me crash on her couch, feeding me, listening to me ramble about my fears and excitement.And now today is my first day.It's been a month since I left Justin. A month since I made the best bad decision of my life. I've seen that man twice on two different Tuesdays since that night. He was there, in his usual corner, reading his book. I served him once. He didn't look up. I didn't say anything.Of course we didn't talk. We're strangers. That's what we agreed on. That's what it was supposed to be.I'm in a cab heading to the school. The streets pass me like frames—Bleecker Street, Broadway, Houston Street. The city is alive. Busy. Indifferent. I'm just another person in a yellow cab, heading somewhere important.I stare out the window. My reflection stares back. I look different. Maybe it's the new outfit.

ALEXANDERI set my fork down.The metal clinks against the porcelain. The sound echoes in the too-quiet room."What's so important that we have to discuss it with an outsider?" I ask. My eyes find my mother. I hold her gaze. Cold. Hard.My mother sets her own fork down. Laces her fingers on the table. "I've been talking with Natasha's family. We've decided it would be a good way to stay connected if you and Natasha got married."I knock over my water glass.Liquid spills across the white tablecloth. The servant rushes forward with a napkin. I ignore it. I'm staring at my mother."I'm sorry. What?""I said—""It was rhetorical." My voice is sharp. Cutting. "I heard you. I'm not marrying her."My mother's lips tighten. "Alexander, you have no say in this matter. You're too laid-back to take action on getting a wife. Your father and I aren't getting any younger. You need to succeed us. It's time."I push my chair back. It scrapes against the floor. "Hasn't my decision from the countless

MIAIt's almost 9 PM.My shift is finally over. Charlotte's too. We're both exhausted, our feet aching, our clothes smelling like whiskey and sweat. We grab our bags from the back and head for the door.He and his friend left about five minutes ago. I watched them go. I hate that I watched them go.Charlotte is still talking. Something about the other guy. The brown-haired one. The one who winked at her."I just wish I'd had a chance to talk to him," she says. "Just five minutes. That's all I need. I could have gotten his name, his number, his life story—""I just want to get home, shower, and go to bed.""You're no fun." She nudges me. "I'm still going to think about him, though. Even if you don't want to hear it. And honestly? I have a new image for when I use my vibrator tonight."I laugh. It comes out tired but real. "Charlotte. Please.""What? I'm just being honest."We turn the corner onto St. Marks Place. The street is quiet. The usual sounds of the city are muffled, distant. W