Submission for Payment

"I've just had so much stress I'm completely out of money and they just keep calling me. I can't go anywhere, I can do anything, I can't concentrate......" Cynthia rolled all her words into a continuous breathe while trying to fight tears.

"Slow down. Take it one thing at a time." Dr. Webb said while motioning her to take a tissue from the box on his desk.

His expression never broke even for an instant. His methodical approach to interactions was a skill he forged long ago and this was not the first weeping young lady to grace his office. Many had turned on the tears like a facet in attempts to work him for a pass. Such techniques had no effect on a man like Webb.

Although Cynthia's tears were of the real variety, they had no more impact on him than those of the crocodile brand. His stoic gaze from his slightly elevated chair made Cynthia feel like a little girl from her boots to her hair band. Her posture was badly impacted by her emotions, she sat with her feet out to the side but he knees together and she was slouched over trying to make herself as small as she could.

Catching her breath between sobs to continued to pour her heart out. "I just have so much debt. I feel so depressed that I can barely move sometimes."

Cynthia went on to details all her terrible spending habits and all the wasted money. She talked about how immature she was and how she felt cornered because of it. She was careful to remind him that she was a good person but she had made bad decisions. She told him that she didn't want to fail him or herself but that the weight was too much sometimes and every time she let someone down the weight got heavier. From her slouched position her tears were now dripping on her boots making new patterns in the salt.

"So what are you going to do about it?"

Cynthia was caught a bit off guard by the even keel in his voice. The entire time she had been making a fool out of herself he sat in the same pose looking over his spectacles and through the tips of his fingers.

"I don't know. I just don't know. What can I do?" She pleaded for some sort of direction, maybe some way out.

Maybe he would have mercy on her. Maybe he would see that she really needed a break. Maybe, just maybe, something would go right and she would be saved.

"Miss Rosen, your life isn't over. Look at me; I didn't get here from sailing in calm waters. I fought for it; I did what I had to do when I had to do. It's not worth your time to think about what other people would do; it's what you have to do that you should be concerned with."

Cynthia started to dry her tears to listen to what he had to say. Dr. Webb was the first person she confided her problem to; she never meant to it just came out all at once. She was horribly embarrassed but at the same it felt good to finally tell someone; almost as if some of the weight was lifted. She was now listening silently.

"I want to help you Cynthia. You have a bright future and you shouldn't let his hold you back. I don't want to discuss this any further here as I have other appointments. Meet me at the Stonewater Pub at 8:00 Thursday. If you don't show up or you're late I'll assume that you don't need help." He paused for a few seconds to gauge the young lady's reaction and then continued.

"That's all for now."

If his words were not enough his body language made it clear that this meeting was over. He spun his chair back toward his desk making no eye contact with Cynthia as she got up to leave. She looked all around the wooden chair as if she had dropped something before picking her head up and leaving the office. Once outside she felt like she was in a different universe and she didn't want to look anyone in the face.

Cynthia walked all the way home through the cold and the snow; she didn't want to take the bus because even that sort of interaction with people seemed like too much. In her mind she was cautiously optimistic she felt like something might finally go her way; like she had a friend who wanted to help her.

Thursday came and she wanted to look her best, she felt by looking her best she could be on more of an even footing with the professor. She wore stockings and a conservative black skirt that went to her knees and a loose fitting green sweater that had the highest thread count in her closet. She put on the golden necklace that her parents gave her for graduating high school and her favorite pair of dangling earrings. She did her brassy blonde hair carefully and put her signature black hair band on top to hold it in place. Despite the cold and the snow she wasn't going to wear her little girl boots she instead opted for her modest low heel dress slips that she could clean later. Cynthia must have checked herself twenty times in the mirror before leaving.

The pub was too far to walk, it was well off campus and well out of the student ghetto too so Cynthia had to take a cab. Luckily she still had some of the $500.00 that her parents sent her so the cab fare seemed like a small investment for the wisdom she was about to gain. There was no doubt that Dr. Webb was a smart man, Cynthia figured anyone with doctor in their title had to be smart. She really thought he would know something that she could do. Maybe he would give her a job where she could study and work at the same time. It would be easy and she would be taken care of. These sorts of fantasies started soon after her meeting and had grown in their fantastic nature since.

The Stonewater Pub was a location that Cynthia had never been to. It was a little strange, it was an Irish pub but that's not the strange part, it had doors on the booths. The style was called a "snug pub" and it certainly was not for the university crowd. The worst part was that she didn't know how to know where he was. It wasn't 8:00 yet so she just stood in the entrance and refused offers to be seated. She felt awkward standing there but deflected any possible suspicion by smiling brightly.

At exactly 8:00 a door to one of the booths in the row opened and Dr. Webb pushed his way out. He seemed taller than his stature in class but in this setting he looked less dignified. It was almost as if he was out of his element but too aloof to realize it himself. He motioned to Cynthia to join him by waving his arm while holding the door to the booth open. It was just now that the oddness of the meeting place hit Cynthia; she was too busy thinking of all the help Webb could provide to consider the question of why they had to meet here.

Once in the booth and the door was closed Dr. Webb was right back into his element. Using some of the same techniques he used in his office Webb controlled the conversation. He wanted to know about her plans for the future, her fears and finally her obstacles. He asked how much her debt really was. There were no tears this time, instead Cynthia felt like she was trying to work through her problem and she had a sponsor. They went through her debts in detail and talked about the consequences of not paying. Some of what he was saying was scaring her as it hadn't yet offered any solutions. The solution was soon to follow.

"You're a pretty girl Cynthia and I can help you with your problems and I think you're smart enough to accept."

His words were strange to Cynthia; she didn't understand why he was telling her she was pretty.

Before she could respond he continued, "I can give you $2,000 that's what I'm willing to do. In the event that it works out there could be a possibility for more"

Cynthia wasn't sure she was hearing him right; did he really mean $2,000? "You-you would do that for me? I'm so grateful, Dr. Webb. This means the world to me I don't know how I could ever thank you."

"Miss Rosen, this is the real world and thank-you's are not considered restitution. You didn't let me finish. You are going to have to enter into a contract to receive the money."

"Well, what contract? I'll do it. What do I have to do?" Cynthia said, in fear of losing whatever deal she was making.

Professor Webb looked over his spectacles right at Cynthia so that there could be no mistaking his words. "Sweetheart, you have to be willing to give me something that I want."

"What do you want?" Cynthia still wasn't getting it.

"I want you, honey."

Cynthia turned as white as a ghost as she realized what he was asking her to do. Her impression of this man that she trusted changed in an instant and a sick feeling came to her stomach. He no longer looked dignified or smart; instead she could now see the sweat that had beaded on his forehead, she saw his gut that was obscenely stuffed into the small booth.

"You w-w-w-ant me to sell my body?" Cynthia managed to whimper.

If this had been even just a month earlier she would have slapped him across his face and stormed out. The thing was that at that point in time she hadn't slapped him and she hadn't stormed out, she did nothing of the sort, she instead asked for clarification. For that reason Webb knew that he had caught her and that she wasn't going to break free. He didn't answer her question; he just continued to stare at her with the same even stare that implied that he was running this show.

"What do I have to do? Are you going to fuck me?"

His gaze remained steady as he nodded his head affirmatively.

"This Sunday."

"I can't do that"

"Are you bargaining with me? I could offer you much less and you would have to take it. What else are you going to do? Everyone has to do things they don't want to sometimes to get what they want. You want a future don't you?"

Cynthia wanted a future but not one with her dignity stripped away. This doctor, this man, was subjecting her to his will. This was a man she would have never slept with or even thought about sleeping with but this was the choice she confronted with: On one hand she could say no but then she would have to deal with the consequences of such a response. It wasn't lost on Cynthia that she had no gotten herself in so deep that if she said "no" it wasn't just the creditors she had to worry about, this man also controlled her grade.

She had opened herself up to him and no he was using her every weakness to obtain his own end. His soul contained no more compassion than his gaze. From the moment Cynthia showed her weakness he had decided to expose her and drag her down. That was as much his end as bedding the pretty young girl more than 30 years his junior. He had played with her like a cat with a mouse and now it was time for the kill. His cold gaze made it clear to Cynthia that no simply wasn't an option.

"Where should I meet you?" She said in a voice that was frail but refused to break; she wasn't going to cry in front of her tormenter this time.

He gave her the details on the way that they would meet and where it would be. They hammered out these details like any other business transaction between two people. Cynthia didn't feel comfortable being the commodity but reality was proving to be colder than the Canadian winter.

When there was nothing left to say she got up to leave when Dr. Webb stopped her. "Honey, you haven't paid for your drink yet." Utterly defeated she pulled some money out of her purse and left it on the table. "Don't worry, sweetheart, everything will be ok. Make sure that you're clean for Sunday"

Cynthia left the pub and started walking into the cold, completely horrified by his last base comment. The snow whipped through the air and stuck to her face. Her house was too far to walk but she was in a trance and not even sure if she was walking in the right direction. Without her boots her feet began to freeze but she continued to walk. It wasn't until a concerned police officer stopped her that she broke out of her daze. He offered her a ride home but Cynthia wasn't in the mood to take anything from anyone and would only allow him to call her a cab. When she finally made it home her feet were nearly frost bitten and pulsed in rhythmic pain. Her roommate, Tara, was concerned and helped her into the shower. Cynthia's behavior had been gradually getting more concerning, so this particular incident just seemed like another odd example.

The next day Cynthia barely moved, she felt unable to do anything besides lie in bed and think. The thoughts that passed through her head went from extreme to another. First, she would convince herself that she wouldn't do it and that there was no way that she could possibly do it; then she would start to break down these absolutes. Being paid for sex is nothing new in this world; it's often referred to as the world's oldest profession. The notion that it happens generally conjures a strange dichotomy between the moral and immoral feelings that exist in most people.

It's more acceptable for a man to visit a prostitute than it is for a woman to be one. For a man the reasons can range from being in search of comfort to sowing some wild oats at a bachelor party. For the woman involved, her lecherous intentions are beyond moral waffling she is never free from the act no mater the circumstances. After all, the women who sell their bodies either on the stripper pole or in the ads of an escort service aren't part of "your" world. They come from the depths of society where no better future could have ever confronted them; they aren't "your" sisters, your daughters or the women you care about.

Cynthia also thought about the man that would have her. Dr. Webb certainly was not what fantasies were made of. His appearance was something she didn't want to think about but couldn't help considering. Cynthia was usually pretty picky about her choice in partners and now this fat slob would be rolling around on top of her. The two couldn't have been any less of a pair. To Cynthia sex was supposed to be spiritual, loving and fun. If she had sex with Dr. Webb it would be cold, base and distasteful.

That was one extreme the other extreme was that it might not be that bad. Cynthia wasn't a virgin so it's not like she was saving herself. "So what if he fucks me?" She thought to herself. "It might only last a few minutes and then I would be free." She knew that nobody would ever know and maybe Dr. Webb was right when he said that sometimes we need to do things we don't want to when we want to get ahead. It's completely possible that everyone who has gotten ahead in the world has done things that they aren't proud of.

No matter how she phrased it to herself she had the nagging feeling that no matter what reasoning she used she wouldn't be able to love herself when it was over. Full of fragmented thoughts Cynthia stood up in her bedroom and removed all of her clothes to look at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a mess from an uncomfortable sleep full of tossing and turning. Cynthia started to evaluate the girl that looked back at her while seemingly trying to avoid her eyes. She pushed her breasts up and together; trying to make them look fuller. She then trailed her hands down her belly pushing in at her hips. She posed with her hips pushed as far back as she could go and tried to admire her midsection while shifting her weight from one foot to the other. To hide her messy hair she picked up a baseball cap off the corner of her dresser and bunched her hair up inside. She paid special attention to the line of her jawbone and the soft features of her face. "All you're worth is $2,000." She quietly said to herself while exhaling in despair.

When she sank back on to her bed, completely naked, she had made up her mind to go through with it. When the finality of this decision set in, Cynthia was finally able to get up and face the day. In her mind she had already become a prostitute and only the physical act was left. She no longer thought about Webb or anything else, she wished Sunday was already there so she could just get the dirty deed over with.

Sunday eventually came and Cynthia was ready for it. She woke up very early and took a shower, which was the first of many she would take that day. From the morning until the evening Cynthia showered four times. His comment about being clean stuck with her and settled in her belly causing her plenty of anxiety. Deciding what to wear was not easy either. She had never done this before and didn't know how to dress. She tried on a number of outfits before settling on a black fixed box pleated skirt and one of her favorite silver blouses made of cotton and silk. The blouse was tight fitting and pushed her perky breasts together. Underneath she wore a silver pair of silk panties to match and decided to not wear stockings. Keeping with the theme of silver she wore a silver bracelet and silver earrings shaped like hearts. After it was all assembled she pulled her black hair band over her hair to keep it in place and make her feel like herself.

She was supposed to meet Dr. Webb at 6:00 pm in front of the park across the street from the shopping centre. Cynthia had arrived early and didn't want to freeze in her knee length skirt, so she walked around the mall. She window shopped and looked at prices and paid special attention to the women on the posters. She thought about how much she had come to hate the materialism in the world that she was part of and how she was about to sell herself to meet the ideals in these advertisements.

When she made it to the park she was still a couple minutes early and felt all of the winter's cold. It wasn't snowing or windy but the air was unforgiving to a girl without stockings. Webb was right on time, he unlocked the passenger door but he didn't get out to hold the door for his "date." Cynthia felt very strange once she got in the car, almost like this wasn't happening. Webb, for his part, was rather distant and quiet. Cynthia could tell that she was sitting in the seat usually reserved for his wife.

The last flickers of guilt lasted until he pulled the car into a small motel where he had already rented a room. Things were starting to become very real and Cynthia began to get nervous still having a hard time believing that he was going to make her go through with this. When he got out of the car he still didn't open the door for Cynthia, instead he motioned with a wave of his hand for her to follow him.

She didn't feel any chemistry at all. This was such an unnatural meeting that she wasn't sure how it was going to end. When they entered the room the main thing that struck her was the motel's cheapness. It smelt like smoke and the carpet even peeled at the corners. The covers reminded her of a cut-rate sofa, much worse than her warm and cushy duvet. There was a small TV in the corner a dresser against the wall and a tiny round table with an ashtray beside the TV. Webb was unconcerned with the surroundings and got down to discussing the business of the meeting.

"Here's $1,000 right now and when it's time to go I will give you the other $1,000." He handed the money to Cynthia and she put it in her purse without counting it.

"Why don't you sit up on the dresser, honey?" He motioned to the dresser as the two still had not made physical contact.

Cynthia did as he requested and sat on the dresser with her knees together. Webb came in close and tried to part her knees but she resisted and turned away and looked down.

"Honey, this is going to happen and you're going to have to get into this." He was peering at the frightened girl as she looked away.

"You took the money and now it's time to make good on the bargain, now spread your legs and let me check you out."

Cynthia moved her legs apart and he stood between them. His breathing had become more labored as his excitement was undeterred by her mood. He placed his hand under her skirt and moved mechanically toward her pussy. His finger was cold to the touch as he moved her panties to the side and felt his way around. Cynthia sat completely still as she felt him push his ring finger into her opening and the cold metal of his ring make contact with her labia.