Now that Catherine has agreed to be Tom's personal call girl, she wonders if she can keep his business and her pleasure truly separate. And as she gives in to Tom's fantasies, she questions whether she and Bobby are really in love. As her heart and her libido collide, there's only one thing Catherine is truly certain of: Tom is the politest pervert she's ever met.
~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~
Once we got to my house, Tom set his helmet on the table and slipped his gym bag off his arm. He reached into it while I bent down to untie my sneakers. I watched him rifle through it and then pull something black and box-shaped from inside. He dropped the gym bag to the floor and wiped his wet hair out of his eyes.
He slipped my shoes off for me and stood up. I stared at the thing until I was sure of what it was, then I laughed. “Where did you get that?”
He gave a small, crooked smile and shrugged.
I wiped the moisture from around my nose. It had been a very hot day and both of us were even sweatier than usual. “Seriously,” I said. “Who even sells polaroid cameras anymore?” I suddenly realized what he probably wanted and I shook my head. “Wait, no way.”
“You get to keep the photos,” he said peacefully. He took my hand and started to lead me upstairs. I sighed and went with him. When we got to my room he took his shoes off and set them next to the bed. Then he pulled five crisp hundreds from his wallet and set them on the dresser.
He flipped the camera open and wandered to my nightstand. He walked towards the mirror, and then he turned. I was still standing by my doorway.
“Take your clothes off,” he said.
I gave him a sidelong look while he peered through the camera.
He smiled. “Do it. You can count the money first.”
I pulled my shirt up over my head and threw it down on the floor. I was wearing a black sports bra and the fabric was almost soaked completely through. “Actually,” he said, taking a step back against the mirror, “yeah, count it now.”
I tried to give him the look that I thought this was stupid but he ignored it. “Take your shorts off,” he said. “Do it in the bra and panties.”
I hooked my thumbs into my waistband and wiggled out of my shorts. I bent low to hook them off my ankles and get my socks off too. “Stand up and count it,” he said.
I rose up and stepped to my dresser. The bills slid off the wood and into my hands and I started to count. 1…2… The camera flashed. The thing let out a loud mechanical whirr and the picture popped out of the mouth. I licked my thumb and slipped the third bill down. I counted the fourth. And when I folded the last one the camera flashed again and the first picture fluttered to the ground and the second followed it down.
Tom reached down to the floor and took the two pictures. He laid them on my nightstand and turned around to face me.
Half of him was in the mirror. In the other half I could see myself standing in front of my doorway. Tom held the camera up to his face.