The Girlfriend Experience: How I Bit Off More Than I Could Chew

By Madi Le

Fun trips. Getting to see the world. Spending time with hot billionaires.

That's what I thought I was signing up for. That's what the The Girlfriend Experience CEO and owner promised to give me.

What I actually signed up for is the most f*cked up love triangle I have ever been a part of.

The bidding war came to blows. Two rich men were fighting for me. They were willing to do whatever it took to keep me.

All because I wanted to have some fun!

Be careful what you wish for!

• Language: English
• Publisher: HeartthrobPublishing
• Release date: Jan 19, 2019

Book preview

The Girlfriend Experience

How I Bit Off More Than I Could Chew

Madi Le ♥

Published by Raven Westbrook House

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Smashwords Edition

Chapter One ♥

*

Everyone needs money. It’s a fundamental fact of life. There are a few people in the world who believe, deep down, that they’re the only ones. That if your parents had enough, still have enough, then you’re born never needing anything. Sam Tudor’s parents had plenty. She needed money.

Sam had watched them spend it in slow motion. Like watching as someone else’s car careens into yours. Nothing that she could do about it. At first not realizing it and then hoping it wouldn’t affect her and then finally realizing that the time to course correct was a long time ago and nobody seemed particularly interested except her in the first place.

She sucked in a breath and tried to remind herself that it was going to be fine. It was. Behind on rent? Sure. But she’d been behind before. The money would appear, just like it always had. But there was a long way to go, and a short time to get there, and it was becoming less and less clear that her hopes were going to come true.

Sam had the card on her desk. She looked at it again. On the back, a phone number was written in permanent marker and underlined twice. She hadn’t been the one to write it, or the one to underline it. She had standards, and she wasn’t going to stoop so low as to actually call it.

Rather than sitting in her room getting hungry, she stood up. She looked at the clock. She had a meal planned in two hours. She wasn’t sure how she was going to kill those two hours; not yet, at least. But she had to. She thought about a snack to quell the gnawing in her stomach. But she’d already worked through the bag of sunflower seeds over past ten days, and she hadn’t budgeted for another for another four days.

She sucked in a breath. She thought about asking her parents for money. After all, they had enough. And they’d give it to her if they had it to give. But they’d wasted enough for a lifetime. She wasn’t going to be the next in a long line of problems.

Sam pressed her lips together and started outside. Nancy stood outside. The neighborhood wasn’t anything like the one she’d grown up in. Perhaps she was too used to extravagance in her life. There was no complaint about the house except for its empty cupboards.

It didn’t stop her from thinking how Nancy Stewart didn’t seem to fit in here, any more than she did. The old woman had been in the house sixty years, since she was a young woman -- ‘about your age,’ she said to Sam, every time she mentioned it.

Her skin hung off her bones like a loose-fitting dress, but even still she had an almost regal bearing as she stood outside, pruning a hedge carefully with a hand-snip. How she had the energy for it, never mind the patience, Sam didn’t know. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to.

Hello, Nancy called.

Sam winced. She’d hoped to get out without being seen. But of course that was too much to hope for.

Hi, she said, forcing her face into a smile and turning. She waved.

Going somewhere special?

Just for a walk, Sam answered. Have to get my exercise.

A body like yours? Nancy said, her smile as pleasant as could be, even as Samantha could see the cogs turning in her head. Why, I don’t think you need it so much as you think, dear.

Very kind.

Just have to keep things in order, she said, tapping the side of her head, apparently unaware of the irony. Like this old house. It’s been in the family for almost a hundred years. My parents moved in, oh, more than sixty years ago now, when I was hardly your age, and it’s still got strong bones. Just have to keep things maintained.

Of course. But I wanted to walk, too.

Oh, yes, well, it’s a very nice day out. A good morning for a walk.

That’s what I thought, Sam agreed. She tried to think of a way out without coming off like a bitch. She wasn’t sure it was possible. Maybe she could afford to risk it. After all, in her experience, people tended to assume that was how she was anyways. Stuck up and too good-looking for her own good. She scrunched her nose without realising it.

Is something wrong?

Just thinking of going for that walk.

Oh well, of course, don’t let me keep you, Nancy said, her voice taking on a faraway tone. I’ll just be here.

Have a good day, Sam said.

You too.

Sam kept her shoulders straight until she was pretty sure that Nancy’s failing eyes couldn’t see any more. Then she let her shoulders slump. The whole conversation had lasted an eternity. She checked her phone. Five whole minutes.

A hundred and fifteen more to go, and she’d have a sandwich and a small salad. Hopefully that would be enough to get her through to supper.

Sam clicked her teeth together, tried to remind herself that everything was going to be perfectly okay, and turned down the next street. Just a quick walk. Get the blood flowing, and then sit down and watch some television. No, wait–she’d canceled her television service. Too expensive, she’d said. And she never watched it.

But then she ran out of other things to do, too, and all she had left was the turned-off television and a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She thought of the man with the card again.

She knew what he was, or what she thought he was. But she needed money, and she needed it yesterday. She needed someone to take her out to lunch. If some porno guy was offering to bring her by and feed her a buffet, who was she kidding? She was hungry.

She pressed her lips together. She wasn’t seriously considering this, was she?

Girlfriend Experience. It sounded like a prostitution thing. But prostitution was illegal, and nobody was going to go around talking to just anyone on the street trying to recruit them.

So it was obviously the name of the guy’s porn site. And she wasn’t going to film a porno. But if she could get some free food out of the deal then she was willing to give him a call. She didn’t have to commit to anything, and she wasn’t going to let herself get filmed. It was just going to be an interview, and she was just going to eat some food and blow him off.

She pursed her lips. It was scummy. It was below a Tudor. But Sam’s parents hadn’t left her in a position for pride. She had to do what she had to do. She’d finish the walk, grab a shower, maybe a little bite of food. Then she’d call the number, and she’d let herself get sweet-talked into something that she knew was a bad idea from the beginning.

The rest of the walk was easier, like she was on the downslope already. Her life was getting easier. Maybe she could figure something out. A mask, or glasses, or a fake tattoo. A way she could at least suggest it wasn’t her, while she raked in the money. It made her feel dirty. It made her feel hot. She was almost smiling when she got back inside, stripped off her clothes, and jumped into the shower.

The phone practically dialed itself. She put it to her ear. It rang. Her heart thumped so loud that she could barely hear when the phone clicked audibly. A man’s voice answered. She’d heard it only once before, on the street.

Miss Tudor?

She blinked. How did they know who she was? Was she the only number that they’d given out, or were there different numbers for each person? None of it made sense. She tried not to feel as terrified as she did. It didn’t work.

Um. Yes.

We’ve been anxiously awaiting your call. Should we send a car?

A car?

You didn’t think we’d make you burn your own gas to come to a meeting, did you? He sounded amused.

What was this meeting going to consist of?

Just a conversation. Have you eaten yet?

Not yet, she said, leaving out the fact that she’d hoped they would ask.

Good. We’ll meet someplace public for dinner. Coffee.

Good.

Sam pushed a lock of hair out of her face, pulled the whole mess back into a ponytail, and ran a brush through it until it went through smooth. She tied her hair back and dressed, knowing that what she wore was going to be important.

She could have back out the door inside five minutes if her life depended on it. If the house was on fire, thirty seconds and an embarrassing afternoon of having nothing but a towel on. But even as she heard the sound of the car outside give a honk to let her know it had arrived, she was still dressing.

It had to be sexy enough to be appealing, or they were just going to tell her they’d made a mistake. But it couldn’t be too sexy; she needed to maintain some degree of modesty that she hoped could provide her an ‘out’ when the time came.

And maybe if she waited long enough, she would be freed from having to make the decision at all. The person outside would decide she wasn’t serious about the job, and they’d leave. Simple as that.

Only they didn’t leave. They didn’t even beep the horn again. The engine kept running, whisper-quiet, and she whittled down her options until finally it was a coin-toss and neither was wrong. She chose the black number that showed off her boobs a little and made suggestions about her hips that she wouldn’t be able to confirm or deny.

If Sam expected her quick Sorry to be met with a comment about timeliness, none was forthcoming. The man behind the wheel of the car had a stoic expression, like he’d been paid enough to fight past the boredom.

The seats were thick, comfortable leather, and in spite of the beating sun they didn’t stick to her thighs or burn with heat. And to her very great surprise, other than the driver she was alone in that luxurious car.

A divider between the front and rear seats had buttons on it. She guessed that she could close the entire thing up tight if she needed to for some reason. She tried to imagine a reason that she might. With the people she was almost certainly going to meet, it wasn’t hard to imagine one or two uses that were there to find. Again, her confidence faltered even as her body started to feel unnaturally warm.

Sam watched the city slide by her as they drove, reminding herself again that there was nothing to worry about. She could always refuse, worst-case scenario. She wasn’t getting kidnapped; it only happened in movies. She wasn’t getting attacked, or they wouldn’t have her picked up.

The guy was thin and had a tattoo, like a lot of men her age did, and he didn’t strike her as anything other than maybe a skeeze.