A/N: Hi everyone! This is my first fanfiction, and I came up with the idea randomly while re-reading some of the books and it sort of just stuck and I had to do something with it. As of right now, I think the story is only going to be a couple of chapters, but I guess we'll see where the idea takes me. It's completely AU and takes place prior to the Great Revelation.

I'm sure some of you recognize this story-I gave up on it after I saw that someone had completely plagiarized my story but changed the pairing. It really upset me and to spite this person, I didn't continue the story so that he/she wouldn't be able to copy it... but then I realized that I was mostly punishing myself since I wanted to write this. I've since changed some things around and I'll be continuing to post.

Please let me know what you think, I would love to hear your thoughts on the story/changes.

It's rated M for future chapters. Hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I do not own these great characters

Chapter One: Down the Rabbit Hole

SPOV

"I got one medium rare and one well done burger." I smile towards the couple I vaguely recognize as Mark Bellefleur and Daisy DePont as I serve them their food at Merlotte's. I double-check how much coke they have left in their glasses and make a mental note to get them a refill as soon as I get the chance.

The smell of grease mixed in with sweat is heavy in the air tonight. It's sweltering in here since it's so crowded; people from town are all squeezed in together. The sound of silverware clanking and drunken screams can probably be heard a mile away.

The place is rowdy to say the least.

It's not all that surprising seeing as how tonight is Monday night football and my boss, Sam Merlotte, had the genius idea of installing a TV screen by the bar. Of course, the mere reminder of this new "venture" so to speak earns an eye roll from me. But I guess a girl can't complain about having a crowd of people to serve on a day of a week that's normally slow as all hell.

Mental reminder: forget the crazy-ness and focus on the fact that the football crowd will be good for your wallet.

As a waitress, I only make my living on tips. So, as exhausting as all of this nonstop running around is, the more the merrier is my motto tonight. Sometimes the tiny black shorts and tight t-shirt uniform I have to wear to work has its advantages too.

Football + tiny uniform = more tips.

"Thanks," Mark grumbles in response and Daisy looks at me in embarrassment. Her cheeks are flaming red. Clearly, this outing isn't going successfully. By the looks of his button down shirt and fitted pants, Mark hadn't expected Merlotte's to be this full of drunken idiots on a Monday night. You and me both buddy. I'll be sure to pass your thanks along to Sam Merlotte!

"Let me know if I can get ya'll anything else!" I ignore their awkwardness and keep my smile plastered firmly on my face—I need all the tips I can get. Mark has always turned his nose up at everyone in town just like his mom and all the Bellefleur's before him. Apparently a little old family money makes them better than all of us poorer folk. So why he insists on bringing Daisy to the town watering hole for a date baffles me. If he were trying to impress her, wouldn't he just make the drive to Shreveport? She's had the innocent doe-eyed Southern Belle part down pat ever since I can remember. And I know that Mark and the rest of the Bellefleur's eat that kind of thing right up.

"Thanks, Sookie," Daisy responds with her eyes firmly set on the food in front of her. I watch her pick up her napkin and lay it across her lap demurely. I'm not sure if she's trying to protect her light pink sundress or put on a show in front of Mark so that he knows that she has good table manners.

"Sookie!" I hear my name being bellowed from across the bar over all the noise and I don't need to look to see that it's my brother, Jason Stackhouse, that's calling after me. We don't look anything alike save for the blond hair and blue eyes combo we inherited from Daddy. I step towards his direction carefully. Getting to him requires some serious cat-like grace. It should be considered a talent navigating through a bunch of drunken football obsessed fools without spilling a thing on my tray.

Remember Sook, more drinks = more tips.

"Hi there, Sookie." Hoyt Fortenberry looks at me shyly when I finally manage to squeeze by the masses and get to my brother's table. I smile in return acknowledging him. I hope that he doesn't get the wrong idea. As far as Jason's friends go, Hoyt's certainly up there as someone I can at least somewhat appreciate. Considering most of the guys Jason hangs around drink too much and have no respect for me, or most ladies, Hoyt is definitely an outlier. He's always polite to me and I know that if on the off chance I ever need his help with anything, he'll be there for me.

Sure, he's cute and maybe if I weren't the way I am, I might entertain the idea of actually saying yes to a date with him (he's certainly asked plenty of times). Instead I resigned myself a long time ago to accept that I can't ever date. Not just Hoyt, or even a man from our little town of Bon Temps, Louisiana.

Anyone.

"Sook, could uh, me and the boys get 'nother round?" My brother's slurring his words already. I nod and make my way over to the bar to put in the order. Hopefully Jason won't get into too much trouble. Given how packed it is in here tonight, it's almost a guarantee that Jason's slighted at least half the women in here in some way. It didn't take a mind reader to know that women in this town were attracted to his good looks and not his winning personality. Maybe not dating had some perks; I won't ever have to worry about too many exes being in the same room together.

There isn't anything "wrong" per se about any of the guys in town—if you can ignore the fact that most of them drink like it's their job and think the highest form of romance means a night out at Merlotte's—but it's hard for a girl to ignore a man that's constantly thinking about how nice your rack is or what it takes to get you into bed. And men sure think about those things a lot. To say it's distracting and unattractive is an understatement.

I was born with a disability, or a curse really, that allows me a foray into the minds of those that I cross paths with. As a child, hearing everyone's thoughts was challenging and difficult to wrap my head around. I used to respond to anything I heard since I couldn't distinguish whether or not someone was thinking something or actually saying it out loud, which made people both confused by me and scared of me.

To say my parents thought I was crazy isn't an exaggeration by any means. It was tough for me, but it was also just as so for my parents who didn't know what to do with me or what to make of my curse. Though, they didn't have to deal with me for long seeing as how they died when I was only seven-years-old in a flash flood while crossing a bridge in town. Jason and I were left to my Gran who took us in and raised us like we were her own.

My Gran was a good woman. She was strong with eyes full of empathy and wisdom. She helped me through my issues with the children at school and all the headaches and difficulties that came with reading everyone's mind. She never once thought I was crazy and she was always patient with me. It was because of her that I never gave up. It was because of her that I somehow managed to find it in me to quiet the relentless voices… To block them out so that I wouldn't go insane. I call them my shields. I do my best to keep them up as much as possible so that I don't have to hear every thought that crosses people's minds around me. She spent years trying to help me live my life as normally as I possibly could.

I missed her so much.

"Here you go boys!" I serve Jason and his buddies their beers while they holler at the TV screen, completely ignoring me in favor of watching The Saints. One glance at the screen tells me that this isn't going well for our boys. Tom Brady and the rest of The Patriots are destroying our undefeated season and no one at Merlotte's seems to be happy about it.

Yep, it's going to be a long night.

By the time the game is over, my shift has also finally ended and I grab my purse from the back office with a sigh of relief. My body's aching from running around and carrying all the trays full of food and drinks for hours. I can't wait to go home and just relax for a change.

I sit down on the couch by Sam's desk and unzip my small bag where I keep all the cash during shift and I start counting the money I have left over in tips. I bite my lip once I finish adding up my pay out to a grand total of $112. It isn't great but it's also nothing to be upset about... Except, too bad this cash won't even put a dent in the bills I have to pay. And boy, those bills sure are piling up. Just the reminder makes my already aching body stiffen in complete displeasure and I can feel my eyes start to water at my frustration.

"Hey Sook, everythin' alright?" Sam interrupts my thoughts. He's coming back into his office, probably to get to the books. He walks straight over to me in his familiar red plaid shirt and old jeans, with his dark hair pulled back. I can sense him about to give me one of his pep talks. I just can't listen to it tonight.

Before I know it his tall figure is looming over me. "Yeah, Sam, nothing to worry about, really." I give him a watery smile and make a swipe towards my face before I get up in a hurry. I stuff the money into my purse and run out the door as fast as I can. He's already witnessed plenty of my crying these past few months and a girl needs to have some pride. What was I thinking anyways counting the money in Sam's office? It's like I was setting myself up to get upset before I even had the chance to at least do it in the privacy of my own home.

I'm clutching the steering wheel so hard on my drive home, that my knuckles are white. I take a deep breath and concentrate on driving steadily so that I make it home in one piece. Coming home isn't turning out to be the reprieve I was hoping for earlier.

I pull up into my bumpy driveway on Hummingbird Lane a few minutes later and get out of the car. I look down at the gravel in distaste. Another expense waiting for me to worry about soon. There's no way my beat up yellow car (that's way older than me) is going survive that much longer, and even less, is it going to survive my barely there driveway in bad need of some paving.

It's been aptly named a death trap by my brother.

From my car I have the full view of the stretch of Stackhouse land. My lawn needs work done, the gutters need cleaning, the house needs a fresh coat of paint. Everywhere I look there's something that needs to get done and a cost to be paid to do it. I hardly recognize the place to be the same as the beautiful country home I used to love as a child.

I go over to my mailbox and I grab the mail and unlock my front door before going inside. The old floorboards are creaking with every step I take.

"As if I can afford to have those fixed either…" I mutter to myself.

I make my way through the living room and into the kitchen, skimming the mail in my hands. Great, more bills… more reminders of the debt that I've accumulated in the past few years, more invoices. I sit in one of my old oak chairs that my great-grandfather built next to the matching table and open each letter, reading all the documents. Past due…interest rate increase… Notice… I must be a masochist. God, I can't believe all the zeroes on each page. I'm not just tens of thousands of dollars in debt; no I'm lucky enough to be in hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt.

Four years ago, Gran was diagnosed with breast cancer and I was devastated. I was convinced that being the strong woman she had always been that she would get through it.

I was wrong.

Gran went through years of hospital visits, seeing specialists and getting chemo and radiation done. She did everything she could in order to fight for her life. The bills piled up but I stubbornly ignored them. I only paid attention to Gran and made sure she was getting all the help she needed, whether she was being taken care of at the hospital or at home when she wasn't in treatment.

Money was so tight that when Gran wasn't home, I spent nights with the lights off to save on electricity. I kept the cable because when Gran was home, she enjoyed watching the few limited channels we had and I couldn't bear to take that away from her. I ended up cancelling my phone contract, deeming it a luxury I could no longer afford. I was careful about spending money on anything, even food. But a girl's gotta eat, right? It was hard. I didn't just have to worry about Gran's hospital bills or the utility bills, but also property taxes, insurance and then when Gran lost her battle against cancer, I had funeral arrangements as well.

Jason's the only family I have left and I don't want to burden him with these bills. It only seems fair that I take on the financial responsibility since Gran left the house to me after she passed (which I know still hurts him to this day). He has no idea of the existing bills I have yet to pay, or even put a dent in, and I want to keep it that way. Jason wouldn't be able to contribute much anyway, so why should he have to suffer the same fate as me?

I have to handle this on my own.

After Gran died, I was distraught and overwhelmed with all these payments I knew I had to make. I kept myself busy working doubles at Merlotte's and I even got a part time gig at the library to make some extra cash. I could've also gotten money from babysitting Arlene's kids but from what I've gathered from her mind during shifts working with her, she couldn't afford it, so I really didn't have the heart to even ask.

"Honey, I'm home!" I hear my roommate scream as she saunters into the kitchen in an infectiously happy mood. "So I got some news for yeah roomie," she winks at me as I watch her take a seat across from me at the kitchen table. Her long brown hair swinging with her movements momentarily captivates me.

"What's this news that's got you so excited?" I ask her while I try to discreetly push the bills I was just flipping through aside. My roommate, Amelia Broadway, is probably the only good thing in my life right now. We met at the hospital in Shreveport where Gran used to get her chemo and radiation. Amelia's mom used to also get her cancer treatments done there too and she and I had bonded over our family's unfortunate circumstances. Sadly, her mom lost her battle to cancer three months before Gran did.

Since then, she's been living with me and we've been helping each other through our grief. Amelia said she couldn't take moving back to New Orleans. Being in her childhood home brought back too many bad memories for her. She helps with the bills, which I'm grateful for, but she's also someone that I can depend on and I love her most for that. I try to give her as much privacy as possible. I use my shields to avoid reading her mind and so far it's been working for us. Well, for the most part at least. She's what I've come to call a loud broadcaster.

"Okay, so before I tell you, I really really need you to promise me that you'll listen and that you won't get all judge-y before you hear everything. Can you do that, Sook?" Amelia bats her eyelashes at me and holds her hands clasped together in front of her in the typical begging position. I roll my eyes at her as I laugh. Give it to Amelia to make anything sound dramatic.

"Yeah, yeah I promise." I yawn and stretch my arms over my head as I wait for her to continue. I'm so tired that sitting in this wooden chair is starting to get comfortable. I guess any position where my feet aren't supporting my entire body weight is probably comfortable to me.

"Well, while I was with Octavia today, I came across something interesting." She starts. Amelia's of course referring to her witchcraft mentor. Surely if I can read people's minds then magic must exist? In fact, I've seen Amelia do some interesting spells but nothing that's been too ground breaking. I guess that's the main point of her seeing Octavia. She's trying to hone in on her craft, as she puts it. She got into it when she learned of her mother's sickness. Amelia thought she could learn something that could help her mom through the cancer or help with the pain. Even though that's what she set out to do, I know that she's seriously committed to this and continues to see Octavia pretty much every day now.

"And?"

"And, Ms. Stackhouse, I have found a very creative and simple way for you to pay all the bills you've been worried about." She's beaming with her eyes wide open in excitement as she pulls out an article from her purse and holds it out for me to see. There's a picture of a woman in her underwear but you can only see her from the neck down. Before I read what it says, Amelia turns the article to face her.

I give her a strange look since I have absolutely no idea where she's going with this. "What's a woman in her underthings got to do with me?" I mean, she does know better than to suggest I start making money by becoming an underwear model, right? I've gotten looks when I'm in my swimsuit before but that was mostly pervs that were interested in my DD sized rack. And seeing as how I can read their thoughts, I was more than confident about this tidbit. Besides, I have zero interest in making a career out of getting photographed wearing underwear.

"This isn't just a woman in her underthings as you so elegantly put it. This is your ticket to riches!" She exclaims and waves the article around like it's the golden ticket from that movie with Willa Wonka and his chocolate factory. "You could be this woman!"

"Amelia!" I chastise her, shocked. "No."

"You said you would let me tell you everything before you interrupted." She's openly glaring at me now. "Besides, I would never suggest you pose for pictures in your underwear for the rest of your life or, let's be honest, maybe the next 10, well, 15 years tops!" She states matter-of-factly. I fight the urge to laugh. Amelia has a way of going off in weird tangents like it's her job. "What I am suggesting is that you follow this girl's lead. She's a genius, Sookie. Genius!"

"Alright, alright you win. I'm listening." I turn to give her my undivided attention and put my legs up on the oak chair across from me. "This better be good." I grumble. I have a bath upstairs with my name on it that I want to get to ASAP!

"Well, as I was saying… This girl is a genius. She took out a large amount of loans for school, and by the time she graduated, her loans were up to $300,000!" She raises her arms up to emphasize how large this amount of money she's referring to is. Unfortunately for me, I don't actually need her to highlight how much money that is. I can imagine that amount since it's not off the mark of how much I owe.

"And..?"

"And she came up with the best idea to pay off all her loans and all she did was give up one night of her life. That's it! One night out of the many thousands you get in a lifetime and poof her loans disappeared without another thought to them. No more looming payments, no more worrying about money. None!" She stands up from her chair in excitement and I wince at the sound of the chair scrapping the wooden floors. She's waiting for me to respond, but all I can do is look at her in confusion.

"How was she able to get rid of all her debt in one night? Was this some business or investment thing that I would never understand?" I tap my fingers on the table in thought. I tried to "Google" some solutions to my money problems before. The best that I could make out of some of the articles was that I should invest. Except, I don't really understand how to do that. Plus, I can't exactly live by the "you have to spend money to make money" motto seeing as how I didn't have any money to spare on risky ideas off the Internet.

She starts to tense a little. I only notice because her shoulders stiffen. This can't be good. "Okay well this is the part where you don't judge. Just hear me out, yeah?" I nod dumbly, waiting for her to get to the point. "She, like you, never really dated I guess, or if she did, never got that far with anyone..."

"Huh? What's that got to do with anything?"

"Well Sook, this girl decided that it was more important for her to make certain that she pay her loans as soon as possible and get on with her life. She figured that, you know, one night to spare on… this one little, tiny thing was worth it to make her life easier and better." Amelia continues on this tirade, being repetitive about how smart this woman was for giving up one night. I still haven't caught on to where she's going with this. I have this sense of foreboding building from the pit of my stomach because of how edgy she's acting. "You know, just one night…" She repeats before I finally interrupt her.

"Yes, I get it. This woman was a genius, and only spared one night to get rid of her big bills. Now can you please explain how she did this before the cows come home?"

"Oh, hmm, yes—" Why is she stuttering?

"Ames!" I shout exasperated at her drawing this out.

"Ahh—okay, okay ripping the band aid it is!" She sucks in a deep breath, "She sold her virginity to the highest bidder!" I gasp completely floored by this turn of events.

"She what?" Amelia hands over the article in her hand and I snatch it out of her hands. I read the title, "Woman Makes Bank Selling Her Virginity." My eyes grow big, stunned. This woman sold her body? And not just that, she made enough to cover her debt in the process. An amount that's close to what I owe.

That fact is definitely not lost on me.

I can feel my heart racing, the unsteady rhythm setting in. I feel my breaths getting deeper as I process this. I look up at Amelia hoping for some answers. "Listen Sook, I love you, and I love that you're, you know, a church goer and all that. But think about this. Really think about this!" She's staring into my eyes goading me like one of those people from late night infomercials. "This girl sold her virginity for so much money that she probably doesn't have to worry about it for a long time. Not to mention all her worries about her loans disappeared, overnight. Literally!" I hear her scoot her chair closer to me, but I look away from her, focusing on the article in my hand. I'm reading it now in complete fascination.

When I finish, I drop the paper on the table. I'm biting my lip nervously trying to think of something to say. "I'm not a prostitute," is the best that I can come up with in response to the discussion. This time, it's my roommate that rolls her eyes.

"Obviously, Sookie. I'm not suggesting you become a prostitute. I'm merely putting the idea of you spending one night with someone out there. You wouldn't even have to tell anyone. All you have to do is, you know, show up and spend the night with this guy and then you'd get your money and take care of this debt. That's it." She soothes. "And it's not like you'll ever see this guy again anyway." I stare at her, speechless, trying to think of how to even reply to that. She's crazy. I mean I always knew she was crazy but this is actually totally and completely crazy. Insane-crazy.

My head is spinning. "Who would even pay that kind of money just to have sex with a virgin?" I ask. I blame it on the fact that I'm still dazed from all this information.

"Roomie, I'd say you're the best person to answer that question. You read the minds of men every day, and I would certainly wager that they think about sex probably like every five seconds. At least." She's giving me a knowing look as if waiting for me to chime in. "Yeah, you don't have to be a mind reader to know that much." Amelia grabs the article and holds it up for me. "This girl said it herself, she had tons and tons of offers coming in! Clearly, in this day and age virgins above the age of eighteen are hard to come by. So why not exploit that? Just think of it as a service!" I look up to the ceiling hoping that I can find the will to get through this conversation.

"Look, even if I could stomach this whole situation and actually sell my body—"

"It's not really selling your body..." Amelia corrects me.

"Yes, Amelia, selling my virginity is the same thing as selling my body. And even if I could go through with it, how could I live with myself? And this man, for all I know could be a horrible person! Or he could be repulsive, and yes, you know perfectly well that because of my disability that I don't want to date." I sigh, frustrated with everything. I know she thinks that having sex with a stranger isn't a big deal. She's done it plenty of times before. But what she doesn't get is what it means for me. It's not just the church girl in me that's apprehensive—though my faith is important to me. It's the idea that I can hear everything the man I'm having sex with is thinking. I have my shields, yes. But they don't work so well when I'm distracted or being touched. It's still a work in progress.

"I don't think it's a disability." What's that saying people always use—something about walking a mile in my shoes? No one can ever understand the burden of hearing people's thoughts until they experience it firsthand. The best way to describe it is that it's like having ten TVs and radios on at the same time all on different channels just blaring out at you. It's a miracle that I'm not in a mental institution somewhere.

"Listen, to hear every thought of the person you're with while being intimate is just too much for me to bear." I feel my voice becoming quieter as I continue, "But I guess somewhere, deep deep inside of me, I never really gave up on the idea that I could build up my shields strong enough so that I could be intimate with someone. At least not completely. And what kind of girl would I be to throw my virginity away like that?"

For a moment I think about my childhood, and how I dreamed of a storybook romance. Not a knight in shining armor exactly, but a gentleman that would sweep my off my feet. I've seen Gone With The Wind countless times at this point. I've always been mesmerized with Rhett and his devotion to Scarlet, despite her stupidity when it came to Ashley. Even though I've never wanted to date anyone, I've also never really given up hope of finding my own version of Rhett.

"What would Gran say if she were here?" I can't help it, mentioning her immediately brings tears to my eyes. Amelia's resolve softens and she stretches her arms so that she can wrap them around me. Her grip is tight around my middle but I need it. I feel so vulnerable every time I talk about Gran.

"Sook, I think we can both agree that your Gran was never one to judge. And more than that, you doing this doesn't mean that you can't one day be with someone. I mean, no, it's not ideal to, well, sell your rights to your virginity but it's going to help you immensely. And I'm all for that." She pulls away from me and sits back in her chair. I feel her demeanor change. "Besides, I've already figured out a way to make sure you won't get anyone repulsive or anything like that." She finishes.

"Amelia! What did you do?" I spring out of my chair, giving her an accusatory look. My mood swings tonight are off the chart.

She looks at me sheepishly and responds, "Listen, I'm not the type to just go throwing out ideas without having all the details and necessary, you know, things in place and all that." She puffs while getting up and joining me in this stare off. "I reached out to Mr. Cataliades." I open and closed my mouth caught speechless once again.

After my Gran died, Desmond Cataliades, sort of came out of the woodwork and presented himself to me as an old family friend. He told me that he'd been there at my birth and was kind of my Godfather. One that I've never met, of course, but he gave me a letter from my Gran confirming it all to me. She said that if I ever needed anything, then I should go to him. But I've never felt comfortable enough to ask. Not only had never met the man (at least not that I can remember) prior to that moment, but I also couldn't hear his thoughts. He's the first person I have ever met that I can't get a read on. It's incredible and mystifying all at the same time.

Finally, I take a breath and ask "And said what, exactly?"

"Well, I explained to him that I would need his services, of course." I know what she's referring to—the fact that he's a sought after lawyer. "I told you, he's more than just your typical lawyer, Sook. He's there for all of us that are, you know, special." She whispers the last part, as if it's all part of some big conspiracy. "He said he'd be happy to help."

"How exactly does he fit into your plans?"

"He's going to write up the contract! And he's going to vet anyone that is potentially interested in spending the night with you." My face turns beat red.

"You told him that? This is just so mortifying." I shudder to think what he thinks of me now. Not that I ever knew how he ever felt about me anyway. This is getting out of hand. I never agreed to any of this!

"God, Sookie, get over it! Can't you see this is so unbelievably perfect? Not only is he going to make sure you get a decent guy, but he'll get you a fair deal. And I'll do what I can to make sure he's at least somewhat good looking if not totally hot." She giggles and sits back down in her chair without a care in the world. "Also, Octavia promised that she would help lace the contract with magic to make sure any rules or obligations you get on there are followed."

"Octavia knows about this too? Amelia, this is ridiculous! Who haven't you told?" I brush my fingers through my hair in frustration. What is she thinking? "You know what, it doesn't matter. I've had a really long day and I just want to go take a bath and sleep and forget this conversation ever happened." I sigh from exhaustion, I'm too drained to put up a fight against her any longer.

Amelia looks up at me in sympathy as I sit back down. "And you being this tired is exactly why I think you should do this. You're running yourself ragged and you're nowhere near where you need to be in paying for all these bills. Not to mention, you refuse to let anyone help you—and even if you did—it's still going to take the rest of your life to pay all of it off." She grabs the pile of letters on the table that I thought I had stealthily hidden away. She waves them in my face, taunting me. "Don't you want out of this prison sentence? For all of this to disappear? Don't you want to go to school or do something else with your life other than going from Merlotte's to the library?" I know she's provoking me, pushing all my buttons. She's trying to get a rise out of me.

She succeeds.

"Of course I do! I wish I could make these bills disappear and get a degree. But this is way beyond insane! I can't just sell my virginity. It's not right." I'm so exasperated by how relentless she's being with this. Why can't she understand that this isn't simple to me? That it is in fact a big deal. She's acting like she's suggesting that I start drinking coffee without milk and I'm freaking out over nothing.

"Well it's not right that you have to pay for any of these bills, Sookie." She huffs right back at me. Her brows are turned downwards and she has a set in her jaw. She's mad at me? Amelia's actually mad at me? "I get that this is unconventional, but just think about it. What's the worst that could happen? Like I said, I'm going work with Mr. C on making sure that the guy is a good match for you and the magic in the contract that he'll sign will assure that he will not commit any actions that you wouldn't want. No one will ever have to know." I swallow hard, my heart is still racing and my head hasn't stopped spinning yet either. "I promise I'll never even bring it up again after it's over if that's what you want. But please think about it before you totally dismiss the idea." Amelia gets up from the table leaving me alone with my thoughts.

"You don't know what you're asking." I turn to study her as as she nervously ties up her long hair. Amelia doesn't do nervous. I can tell she's contemplating telling me something or going to her room.

The formers wins out.

"I lost my virginity in the back seat of a car to some guy I didn't even know and he didn't know what he was doing." She pads back over to me as she speaks. "At least you can get something out of it, right?" Amelia puts her hand on my shoulder and looks at me pleadingly. "It's not easy for me to see you struggle like this." She whispers to me sadly. And finally, it clicks. I'm her best friend and she wants to help. She thinks this is her helping me.

I don't even hear her leave.

I can't move from my spot in the kitchen. Her words are running through my head. "Think about it, this is perfect!" Her voice is ringing in my mind, over and over. "No one will ever have to know." She's saying. "Just one night out of thousands," her voice continues "and poof all the debt gone."

Can I really go through with this? Just give up my virginity and have sex with a complete stranger? Would I actually be able to live with myself? Isn't that repulsive, even if the guy turns out to be mildly attractive and not creepy? And anyway, what kind of guy that's not creepy would even want to buy my virginity? Isn't the whole idea of that gross within itself? Then again, men rarely seem to have many boundaries when it comes to sex.

Amelia's dead-on; I would know better than anyone else. I hear it in their thoughts every day. They all think primarily of sex. What it takes to get it and who they can get it from. And when they aren't thinking about that, they're fantasizing about it. What the girl looks like, from her hair color, to her cup size and her overall weight. I can't even count the amount of men that have thought about bedding me as it is.

Would someone actually pay such a large amount of money just to have sex with me? I'm a waitress from a small town in Louisiana for goodness sake! I know that men find me attractive, but is Amelia right? Is it truly so alluring for men to bed a virgin that they would pay such a hefty amount of money for that, um, service? Am I capable of just think of it as a business transaction? Be intimate with a man and take hundreds of thousands of dollars in exchange and move on with my life like it never happened?

I groan. I'm obviously not in the right frame of mind at all to even be considering this. I shake my head, trying to empty my head of this internal battle. I'll skip the bath and go straight to bed and tell Amelia first thing tomorrow to forget it because there's no way I can go through with something like this.

At least, that's what I had planned on doing.

xo