The Right Price

By M.E. Clayton

What’s worse than selling your body for money?

When you don’t seem to think that it’s that bad of an idea to begin with.

Collins
Never afraid of doing what needs to be done, Collins Armstrong has no problem with holding down three jobs to support herself and her grandmother. With an absent father and a drunk of a mother, Collins considers her grandmother her only real family. It also helps that her grandmother is the best person that she knows, so there isn’t anything that Collins wouldn’t do for the old woman.

When things get tight at home, Collins realizes that getting by might no longer be an option. Working three jobs as a gas station cashier, grocery store stock person, and a waitress at a strip club does nothing to change the math on her bills. However, Collins is a fighter, so if getting up on that stripper pole is what it takes to make sure that she and her grandmother survive...well, so be it.

Evander
Never afraid to make the tough decisions, Evander Kendrick has no problem crushing whoever gets in his way of his goals. With his mother gone and an asshole of a father, Evander’s only obligation in life is to his younger brother, Holden. Having raised Holden since he was old enough to pour his own cereal, Evander’s millions didn’t matter to him as much as his brother’s happiness.

When another business meeting lands him back at The Fourth Face, Evander has no reason to believe that it won’t be business as usual. Sitting in one of the VIP rooms, it’s nothing to toss around hundred-dollar bills to the beautiful women assigned to cater to him and his party. However, when a black-haired, blue-eyed beauty becomes his newest server...well, that changes everything.

When the almighty dollar becomes ten thousand almighty dollars...
Collins has seen and done a lot of things in her life. Still, when she finds herself giving a private lap dance to the hottest guy that she has ever seen, all she can think about is how she doesn’t know how to dance. However, the sexy god doesn’t seem to care, so who is she to argue?

Evander has seen and done a lot of things in his life. Still, he’s never seen or done anything like the stunning ebony-haired goddess that has knocked him to his knees. Insisting on a lap dance, even though she’s only a server, he doesn’t expect her to say yes. However, a gift horse and all that, right?

When a two-thousand-dollar lap dance turns into a ten-thousand-dollar one-night stand, expectations turn into complications, and battle lines have been drawn. Still, one thing is for certain; neither Collins nor Evander are the type of people to surrender peacefully.

Note: This book contains adult situations, adult language, sexually explicit encounters, some bad lap dancing, a meddling grandmother, and an annoying younger brother. If sensitive to any of the aforementioned issues, please do not purchase.

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.E. Clayton
• Release date: Jul 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005409586

M.E. Clayton

M.E. Clayton works fulltime and writes as a hobby only. She is also an avid reader and Pinterest addict. When she's not working, reading, writing, or on Pinterest, she is spending time with her family and friends, or her dog, Boy, or her cat, Seatbelt. She lives in California with her husband and enjoys doing nothing but reading. Seriously. She does nothing but read. However, that's how she likes it.

Book preview

Just a couple of things before I let you go and get your read on. While I am doing my best to work with better editing and proofreading software, all my books are solo, independent works. I write my books, proofread my books, edit my books, create the covers, etc. I have one beta who gives me feedback on my stories, but other than that, all my books are independent projects.

That being said, I apologize, in advance, for the typos, grammar inconsistencies, or any other mistakes I may make. Since writing is strictly a hobby for me, I haven’t looked into commitments in regard to publishers, editors, etc. My hope is that my stories are enjoyable enough that a few mistakes, here and there, can be overlooked. However, if you’re a stickler for grammar, my books are probably not for you.

Also, I am an avid reader-I mean an AVID reader. I love to read above any other hobby. However, the only downside to my reading obsession is when I fall in love with a series, but I have to wait for the additional books to come out. So, because I feel that disappointment down to my soul, when I started publishing my works, I vowed to publish all books in my series all at once. No waiting here…LOL. Now, the exception to that will be if enough readers request additional stories based off the standalone, such as in Facing the Enemy. At that point, if I decide to move forward with a requested series, I will make sure all additional books are available all at once. As much as this is a hobby for me, I am writing these books for all of you, as well as myself.

Thank you, for everything!

Contact Me

I really appreciate you reading my book and I would love to hear from you! Now, unfortunately, because I do have a full-time job and one part-time job, plus a family that I love spending time with, I’m not very active on social media. However, for the sites I do participate in, here are my social media coordinates:

Website

News & Updates

Author Pages

Social Media Sites

Email

Newsletter Sign Up

Other Books

Dedication

For Vintage Venus –

We’ll get up on those poles one day….LOL!

Playlist

Ain’t It Funny – Jennifer Lopez

Feels Like Forever – Joe Crocker

Plush – Stone Temple Pilots

New Classic – Selena Gomez & Drew Seeley

Smooth – Santana ft. Rob Thomas

Teardrop – Massive Attack

Sex & Candy – Marcy Playground

My Love – Justin Timberlake ft. T.I.

Forever Tonight – Peter Cetera ft. Crystal Bernard

All or Nothing – Theory of a Deadman

Prologue

I was a whore.

It didn’t matter how many times I tried to justify what I’d just done; those justifications didn’t change the facts.

By definition, I was officially a whore.

Sure, I could argue the altruistic reasons behind my choices, but those reasons didn’t make me any less of a whore. A man could sell street drugs to finance his wife’s cancer treatments, but that still didn’t make him any less of a drug dealer than your average street thug. The state laws didn’t have clauses for ‘good reasons’. You didn’t get less jail time for selling a pound of cocaine than the next guy so long as you had a good reason for doing it, a noble reason.

Besides, everyone had good reasons for doing the things that they did. It was just a matter of perspective. Someone with a perfect life might think that my reasons weren’t good enough, but a person with a crappy life might understand completely and even sympathize with me a bit.

At the end of it all, life was about what we could live with, and looking in the mirror, I wasn’t sure that this was something that I could live with.

In fact, I was sure of it.

My hands were still shaking, and it wasn’t from everything that I’d just experienced. My hands were shaking because they’d never held an envelope full of one-hundred-dollar bills before, and they didn’t want to. At least, not like this.

With dead blue eyes looking back at me, I wondered if the shaking was just a side effect of hitting rock bottom. Did your body experience actual physical reactions to the loss of hope? Was despair a physical feeling in addition to an emotional and mental one? Was shame really that crippling? Was I always going to struggle like this every time that I passed a mirror from now on?

Worse than the money, the fact that I had enjoyed every second of what just happened was the real shameful part to all of this. I was here as a whore-bought and paid for-but up until the point when I had seen the envelope stuff with cash, it hadn’t felt that way. In fact, passed out on the bed, without a care in the world, that man had no idea that he’d been the best sex of my life.

I hadn’t faked anything.

My moans had been real. My whimpers had been genuine. My orgasms had been mind-blowing. Everything about tonight had been the stuff of fantasies. He’d said and done all the right things, and I’d actually forgotten what I was doing here. For a few hours, I had fallen into the fantasy of this being a real date between two people that had found themselves liking each other.

Then he had mentioned the envelope.

I let out a choked laugh as I realized that I wasn’t even a good whore. A good, smart, savvy, experienced whore would have gotten the money upfront. She would have counted the bills, then handled it all like the business transaction that it was. She wouldn’t have let him take her over, and over, and over again, lost in all the false pleasure, before getting her hands on that promised money.

After splashing some water on my face, I knew that I needed to get out of here. I needed to come to terms with what I’d just done, and I couldn’t do it locked in a hotel suite bathroom. I couldn’t do it with him sleeping on the other side of the wall.

Covering my mouth, I pushed down a hysterical laugh when I realized that he was no better at this than I was. He should know better than to fall asleep in the presence of a whore. What was stopping me from going through his wallet and stealing his money or taking pictures of his personal information with my cellphone?

Straightening to my full five-foot-three, I did my best to smooth my dress down, and look half-ass decent. Sure, it was almost five in the morning, and everyone was going to know what I’d been up to as I walked out of the hotel lobby, but considering where this expensive hotel was located, I seriously doubted that I’d ever see any of these strangers again.

As silent as a jungle cat, I left the bathroom, gathered my purse and shoes, then stared at the envelope on the table for a full minute before I reached for it. However, as soon as my fingertips touched the padded envelope, I drew my shaky hand back. Once I placed it in my purse and left, there’d be no going back, not that there really was. I’d already sold myself; the rest was just about collecting payment.

Ten-thousand freakin’ dollars.

That’s how much my soul had been worth.

Chapter 1

Collins~

I clicked the key fob to lock my car, but there really was no point to it. Even though I lived in a bad neighborhood, my car was used enough that there was no real fear of it attracting any criminals. That was the thing about bad neighborhoods; theft wasn’t a huge crime here. Sure, assaults, rapes, killings, and drug dealing were common enough, but most poor people had nothing worth stealing, and that was me. I was one of those poor people that had nothing worth stealing.

Closing the gate behind me, it was only a matter of time before the rickety chain-linked fence that surrounded my house fell down completely. It was hardly a burglary deterrent, so much as it was a property line marker. The entire lot was maybe five-thousand square feet, but the rent was only nine-hundred dollars a month, and the landlord cared about nothing else but the rent. As long as it was paid on time, I never heard from him.

The house was a small two-bedroom, one bath, kitchen, living room, and washroom ensemble, and while not built by the best materials around, the roof didn’t leak, the water heater worked, and the central air ran a reasonable electric bill. I also made sure to keep it clean, even if none of the furniture matched.

Still, it was a million times better than being homeless.

Unlocking the front door, I made sure to lock it behind me, greeting my grandmother as I walked through the door. Hey, Nan.

She lifted the remote control, paused her television show, then smiled back at me. Collins, honey, she replied. It’s nice to see you home.

Mavie Spencer was the only family that I had, even though both my parents were still alive. Well, my mother was still alive; I couldn’t be certain about my father. He had taken off when I was only six-years-old, and that was the last that I’d seen of him. With that as the perfect excuse, my mother had ended up deciding that she was going to use alcohol to numb the loneliness, and that ended up leaving me with Nan, but I was a better person for it.

Have you eaten dinner yet? I asked as I walked into the kitchen to put away a few things that I had picked up at the grocery store.

Yes, I did, she answered. A tuna melt.

While I didn’t consider a tuna melt dinner, it was better than nothing. Plus, it was a simple thing to make. Nan was up there in age, and I worried about her trying to do too much when I was at work. I had three jobs, and while they didn’t leave me a lot of time to spend with her, they did keep a roof over our heads and food in our stomachs.

Widowed at a young age, Nan had lost Grandpa Pembrooke to a sudden heart attacked when he’d only been forty-years-old. With my mother only being eighteen at the time, I hadn’t had a chance to meet Grandpa Pembrooke, but Nan had never remarried, so that told me a lot about her marriage to the man. She still spoke of him as if he were still alive, and it hurt my heart sometimes to hear her carrying on about him. I wasn’t sure if she was lonely, but it was apparent that she still missed him a great deal.

Now, while Grandpa Pem had left Nan a decent-sized life insurance, money flew out the door a lot more quickly when you went from a two-income family to a single-income family. With my mother being selfish and drowning in her own problems, she hadn’t been much help when Nan had been forced to move out of the home that she had shared with Grandpa Pembrooke. Unfortunately for Nan, she had owed more on the house than it’d been worth, so when the bank had foreclosed on her, she’d been left with nothing. By the time that I’d found out about her financial troubles, it’d been too late. I could have easily moved in with her to help pay the bills, but she hadn’t wanted to be a burden-her words, not mine.

So, after losing the house, I had immediately moved Nan in with me, and while it had put a huge strain on my finances, I didn’t regret it. With an absent father and neglectful mother, Nan had been the one to raise me, so taking care of her now was the least that I could do. Sure, I’d had to take on a third job, but I was still young enough to make it work. Plus, I had no husband or children to interfere with what needed to be done.

The only real concern was Nan’s physical health. Last year, old age had finally started making an appearance, and even though a lot of people considered eighty still a manageable age, eighty on medication wasn’t that manageable.