One Night Stand Contract Novels & Stories

It wasn’t the business contract. “This is the one I’m actually interested in tonight,” he said, voice low and velvet-rough. “Your father gets nothing until you agree to my terms.” Her eyes scanned the document. Her pulse spiked. Personal Submission Agreement Duration: Entire summer Terms: - Immediate and total availability to Damien Voss, 24/7 - Complete obedience in all matters sexual and personal - No other men. No flirting. No dates. - Full access to her body whenever and wherever he desires - Discretion

“You need someone for the night and you’re paying well.” “That’s right,” he said. “But first we talk about the contract, it’s simple. It's a one night stand, you do what I say in my playroom, no questions. After it’s over you get fifty thousand dollars. But it’s physical only, no feelings or calls after. You leave in the morning.” I swallowed hard. “Fifty thousand is a lot. It would fix everything.” “Okay,” I said. “What exactly do I have to do?”

The thing that’s about to change my life. I take it with trembling hands. He starts going over the details again, just like last time. The contract outlines a one-year marriage, renewable unless either party files for divorce before the end of the term. One million upfront. Two million monthly, transferred on the last business day of each month. No sexual obligation, but public appearances are mandatory. A clause about discretion. A clause about his family. A clause about exclusivity. It’s all swimming in my head like alphabet soup. I’m not even reading it. I’m just trying to keep my tears from falling onto the damn paper.

One night stand with the cursed twins, it would make a hell of a story, if I lived long enough to tell anyone. Kane reached over to the nightstand and picked up a folder I hadn't noticed before. He tossed it onto the bed between us. "Open it." I hesitated, then reached for the folder with shaking hands. Inside was a thick stack of papers, official-looking documents with legal jargon that made my head spin. But certain words jumped out at me: contract, one year term, financial compensation, residential requirements. "What is this?" I asked, looking up at them. Kade sat on the edge of the bed, close enough that I could smell his pine and smoke scent. "A proposition."

I took a sip of my lukewarm coffee and replied to his text like I did to all. “Non-negotiable terms: No intimacy. No extensions. No repeats. Payment upfront. I DON'T ever wear white.” His response came almost immediately. “Agreed. My assistant will send the contract and itinerary.” He was fast. And efficient too. I kind of respected that. A few minutes later, the email pinged in my inbox. I skimmed through the attached contract, scanning the location, terms, and expected appearances. Manhattan, Upper East Side private penthouse, separate rooms...

Without a word, he pulled out his phone, swiped to a document, and shoved the screen in my face. “Read clause number six.” I squinted at the tiny text. My own contract, the ridiculous one he had made me sign weeks ago when this whole arrangement started. “The next morning after any night spent together shall not be counted as a separate night. It is considered a continuous session.” I smacked the phone away from my face. “You motherfucker.” He laughed low, satisfied. “You fell asleep last night before we could finish. So… technically, this morning doesn’t count and you still got the weekend free.”

While official office hours ended at 6:30 AM, Cole routinely stayed late until 10:00 or 11:00 PM, meaning Britney would be tethered to his schedule and expected to leave only when he did. Personal time off was heavily restricted, and taking unauthorized leaves would result in docked pay and strict financial penalties. It was a strict six-month binding contract. Ryan pushed the papers closer, emphasizing that quitting mid-term carried a crippling financial penalty, and failing to meet performance standards would result in immediate termination accompanied by heavy legal compensation. Britney stared down at the clauses, swallowing hard. It sounded dangerously close to corporate slavery. But th

She hesitated, her eyes darting to the small space in the corner of her cramped living room. With a heavy sigh, she stood and went into her room and handed me a sleek black folder, her hands shaking as she handed it to me. “This,” she said, her voice sounding sad. “Daniel sent it. A contract. He wants me to be his mistress.”My eyebrows shot up as I opened the folder. “Personal Services Agreement” I went through the pages, my stomach twisted. Exclusivity. Availability at his call. A monthly stipend of ten grand, luxury accommodations, confidentiality clauses, and a termination clause that demanded she repay every cent and gift if she walked away.

After your seven years elapsed, you will be free to go wherever you want to," she said to me but I wasn't even listening to her. I had made the biggest mistake ever, all because I wanted revenge. "And remember, we have your signature, and this whole place is guarded," she said to me. "You can't leave until I decide other." I didn't know what to do at this instant, to run or to shed tears. "And for the job, we do here," she continued. "It's a one-night stand kind of business. We bring in male customers and every night you dance and if you are chosen, you get a 10 percent payment from us," she noted.

We had to get tested frequently. "Yeah, you can read the details in the contract. Here," Luke grumbled and pulled folded papers from his back pocket. "I need you to read and sign and get that back to me before the show tonight." "Why so soon?" I accepted the papers and looked started to back away. It allowed me a moment to take a full breath before my eyes drifted down to the contract. My eyes scanned the words and the terms before even Luke made it across the floor. "He wants me to fucking stay with him?" I shouted. " Oh my God, this is too much!" I didn't speak out loud on the part about him not needing to use a condom if we both tested clean.