Page 2 of Doctor's Demands
I’ve shared a few classes with the woman. She’s not a big talker, so the fact that she’s asking me anything is a miracle. “Financial troubles.” I put the paper away in my bag and nod with a gesture at the one she has in her hand. “Is next year’s bill pretty steep for you too?”
“It’s high, yes. But nothing I can’t cover. You seem a bit distraught, Petra. Would you like to join me for a cup of coffee? I’ll let you bend my ear about your problems if you like.”
Leticia is a complicated woman, in my opinion. She drives a nice car, wears expensive clothing, and lives in a very nice apartment, from what I’ve been told. And she’s always kept to herself. No one knows much about her. She’s a real enigma at Ohio State.
Long, dark curls hang in spirals down her back. Her tall frame reminds me of a Native American and her dark eyes are hauntingly beautiful. She’s more than a knock-out—she’s stunning in every way.
Even the way she speaks, with an odd accent no one can figure out, is mysterious and sexual. And she wants me to join her for coffee and will allow me to whine about my problems to her.
Why?
“Leticia, that’s sweet of you,” I say as I walk away and find her walking right next to me. “I’d hate to bore you with my financial woes.”
“I won’t be bored, Petra. And I may have answers that might help you.”
I don’t see how she could unless she wants to pay next year’s tuition. But she seems set on helping me and that’s nice of her. I can’t be rude and blow her off.
“Sure, let’s get some cheap coffee,” I say as I head to the student cafe. “It doesn’t get any cheaper than our very own Hub. You can’t beat free. I’ll treat.” I laugh at my joke and so does she.
Then she reaches out, taking my hand, and pulls me toward the parking lot instead. “I tell you what, let’s go to lunch. Somewhere insanely expensive. My treat, Petra.”
“No,” I say as I shake my head. “I can’t let you do that.”
She tugs at me to go with her. “I insist. Come, it’ll be fun and I’m sure I can help you with your problems.”
I can’t help but ogle at the fire engine red Mercedes convertible she drives. “Leticia, can I ask you a personal question?” I slide into the buttery leather of the passenger seat as she gets behind the wheel and nods. “Do you come from a wealthy family?”
“No,” she says quickly. “I made all my money on my own.”
“Yet you’re in college. You’re majoring in English Lit., right?” I ask, as it doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. If she already knows how to do something that makes her so much money, why go to school?”
“I am majoring in that. You see, I want to be a writer someday. Not anytime soon though. I’m happy with what I’m doing now to get me by for the next few years. But one day I’ll have to put that behind me and then I might write about my adventures.” She pulls out of the parking lot and heads toward downtown.
Curiosity forces me to ask, “Adventures?”
“That’s how I like to think about what I do to make money.” She stops at a red light and pulls out a couple of pairs of expensive sunglasses. She hands one to me, then puts the other pair on. “You can have those. I have lots of them.”
Looking the aviator-style glasses over, I see the word, ‘Cartier’ engraved on the side of the ear piece and know they cost more than the POS car I drive. “I can’t possibly …”
She clucks her tongue at me as she shakes her head. “You can. They’re yours. You know, Petra, you have a rare beauty. With that long, silky, straight black hair, your brown, doe-like eyes, those thick lashes that surround those gorgeous eyes of yours, and caramel lips, you’re a natural beauty. When you add in that coffee-with-just-the-right-amount-of-cream-colored skin and your curves, well you make an exotic specimen many men would love to have.”
Leticia exudes sex. I mean she’s just like some kind of a goddess. But I think she has the wrong idea about me. Easing the sunglasses on, I take a look in the mirror on the opposite side of the visor and think I look pretty damn hot. When I look back at Leticia, I see a sexy smile on her face. “Um, look, I’m not into girls.”
Her laughter peels through the air. “I’m not asking you out, Petra. I’m not exactly into girls myself. I am into making money. Lots of money. If that means exchanging some bodily fluids with another female, then I do what I have to.”
Whoa! Did she just say she gets paid for sex? Cause that’s what I got out of it!
Sitting in awkward silence, I look away from her. I have no idea what the hell she wants with me, but I know she wants something. So, I spit out, “I’m not about to become a hooker. If that’s what you are and that’s how you make your money, I want no part of that. You can take me back to campus if that’s what you’re after.”
Pulling into a parking garage downtown, she eyes me over her sunglasses. “Petra, I’m not a whore. I value my body. And the men who pay me do too.”
“Shit!” I hiss. “That’s the definition of a hooker, Leticia. You may be a high-priced one, but you’re nothing more than a call girl.”
With a shake of her head, she picks up her cell and taps in a web address. I see some kind of a landing page that says ‘The Dungeon of Decorum’ on it. There are some ropes on either side of the title, and then at the bottom there are lots of shadowy figures. “This is a place I’ve gone to every summer for the last few years. I like to think of it as an adventure. A sexual one, where I get paid very well. You see, there are people in this world who like certain things they don’t want anyone to know about, or very few people to know about anyway. And that’s where places like this come into play.” She giggles a little and I frown at her.
“Leticia, what the hell is this place?”
“A place where people who want to venture into the misunderstood world of BDSM come to meet and play with one another. It’s completely safe,” she adds as she looks at my horrified expression.
