January 2005
"Get the fuck away from me, Corey," Ashley Saunders snarled, putting as much contempt into her glare as was infused in her words.
"I've got the cash. It was a gift for my eighteenth birthday."
"The cash isn't the point, asshole. I'm not a fucking whore."
"But Josh said that you..."
"That I what?"
"Um, did it with him—for money. Took his virginity."
"Josh Kinkaid? That little pussy said I fucked him? For money?"
"Yeah. He said you did it for twenty bucks."
"I didn't do shit for money. And he was so fucking nervous he couldn't get it up. He's still as much a virgin as you."
"Look, if it would take more than twenty, I'm willing. Would a hundred do?"
Ashley's intended retort never made its way out of her suddenly dry mouth. With the occasional babysitting gig being the only job her parents would allow her to have while she was still in school, the attraction of the hundred dollars that Corey was offering her was enough to for her to consider the possibilities. She had certainly had sex for worse reasons.
"Put your number in. I'll call later," she sighed, handing Corey her phone. "I don't want to talk about this at school."
***
Eighteen-year-old Ashley Saunders studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The dark-haired girl looking back at her with slightly too large brown eyes, at least in her own estimation, did not look like a whore. At least, her reflection did not match her mental image of a whore. Yet in just a few minutes, Corey Strickland would be picking her up so he could lose his virginity to her, and she would be taking money from him for this to happen.
The decision to move forward with the transaction had not been an easy one for the brunette senior to make. She had debated it in her minds for a couple of days after Corey first proposed the deal. The major issue was not Corey. She had known him since second grade and considered him a friend. Further, even though he fell firmly into the 'geek' social clique at school, he was a decent looking guy, albeit a bit on the scrawny side. Plus, he always smelled nice, a characteristic that Ashley liked in a man.
No, the problem was the transaction itself. Sex was not new to her, and she had engaged in it with guys she liked less than Corey and for worse reasons. But it had always been on her terms, even if those terms were not that great. This felt different, even though she had negotiated the extent of the encounter and the price. It still felt to her like Corey, in proposing the deal, was in control of it.
"And it makes me a whore," Ashley whispered to the mirror, knowing in her heart that the reflection—her reflection—would soon be as much of a whore as any hooker on the street corner.
Shaking off the self-loathing she felt growing inside of her, Ashley checked her makeup one last time, then let her eyes drop to the reflection of her torso. She had chosen a fitted, light blue top that emphasized her breasts without shoving them in everyone's face, especially when it was buttoned up to not show any cleavage. That would change once she was out of the house, but she had to make it past her mother before it could happen.
For a moment, she thought about changing from her skin-tight jeans, which were a few shades darker blue than her top, to a skirt, but she resisted the urge. Her mother might frown at the jeans, but she would never allow the skirt. Ashely knew from experience that her mother considered a skirt far to easy access to trust around boys, and that attitude had not wavered even after the young woman turned eighteen back in late October.
"Your date is here, Ash," her little sister called from downstairs, and Ashley shuddered even as her mouth turned to a desert and her stomach decided it wanted to try out for the gymnastics team.
"Coming," she rasped, taking a last chance to fluff her hair before leaving the bathroom.
As expected, her mother was waiting for Ashley at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes roving up and down in obvious critique.
"Aren't those clothes a little tight, Ashley?"
"They're comfortable, Mom," the eighteen-year-old replied, forcing herself not to roll her eyes. "I have some dresses that are looser. I could wear one of those."
As Ashley expected, her mother shook her head before the words were even out of Ashley's mouth. Like skirts, dresses on dates afforded too many opportunities for roving hands, at least in her mother's mind.
"You have looser tops," Mrs. Saunders countered, arms now folded across her chest.
"I thought you did not want me to be loose, Mom," Ashley quipped, darting past her mother and around the corner.
Corey, his blonde hair neater than Ashley had ever seen it, stood in the entry hall, hands in pockets. In addition to black jeans, he wore a gray button-up shirt under a blue jacket. But it was not his hair or his clothes that caught the brunette's attention the most. It was his ear-to-ear grin that did that.
"Hey Corey," Ashley said, peering into his blue eyes. "I'm ready."
"You look fantastic," the young man replied, and she saw his gaze drop to her chest before traveling lower.
Don't let my mom see you looking at my crotch like that,
she thought at him, even as she felt warmth spring to life between her legs. Almost as if he had sensed her thoughts, Corey's eyes snapped back on her face just as her mom rounded the corner.
"Ashley's curfew is 11:00 pm, Corey," Mrs. Saunders informed the young man, and Ashley saw Corey nod, his eyes showing fear under her mother's glare.
"I'm eighteen, Mom," Ashley groaned. "The curfew laws don't apply to me anymore. And Corey's eighteen now too, so they don't apply to him either."
"I don't care about the law, dear," her mother replied, her voice much warmer than her eyes. "As long as you live here, you have a curfew."
"Yeah, and I'm trapped here because you won't let me get a job, so I guess you win."
"Maybe you don't need to be going out tonight, young lady," her mother snapped.
Ashley was about to launch into a scathing retort, but she saw shock and disappointment settle onto Corey's face. Breathing in and counting to ten in her head, the brunette managed to gain control of herself.
"Sorry, Mom. You're right. But would midnight be okay instead of 11:00?"
"Well, you are eighteen, as you said," her mother replied, her thoughtful expression giving Ashley some hope. "I guess midnight is okay."
"Thanks, Mom!"
Rushing to where Corey stood, looking befuddled yet relieved, Ashley grabbed the young man's hand and pulled him toward the door. Yanking her coat from where it hung by the door, the young woman flung open the door and waved behind her as she pulled him in her wake.
"Is she always like that?" he asked her once they were safely in his car.
"You mean a controlling bitch? Yes, she is."
"Sorry about that."
"Oh, I'm used to it. I can't wait to get the fuck out of that house. But my parents won't let me get a real job, so I'm stuck."