Author: Mike Owens
Genre: Erotic Thriller
Somehow, it’s always about the money. Sharon Saluda, in her junior year at Pisgah College, doesn’t have nearly enough of it, and a diploma is her ticket out of the narrow confines of small-town life in Jacob’s Bluff, NC. A career as a stripper is a part-time solution, but when that ends badly, a desperate Sharon capitalizes on that most basic of needs—sex—by matching up college coeds with faculty clientele.
Her job description takes a dramatic uptick when Connor Shaw arrives and claims her as his own---for a very good price, of course. She takes the plunge, body and soul, because this man is gorgeous, ridiculously wealthy, and the sex is out of this world. But there’s always a catch…right?
Opening day, Saturday, November 5. The reception would run from five to seven o’clock. The girls all came in early. They dressed in regular student attire, except the skirts were a bit shorter, and the sweaters a bit tighter, all in line with the fantasy, sex with a young coed. There was a lot of nervous giggling, but otherwise they all seemed ready for business.
“What if nobody comes?” Brenda asked.
No sooner had she asked the question than they heard the knock on the front door. The professor who knocked was one of Sharon’s own, a math professor from the year before.
“Am I the only one?” he asked.
Sharon took his arm and led him inside. “You win the prize. You’re number one.” She kissed him on the cheek.
There quickly followed more knocks and more entrances until the room was mostly full of coeds and slightly awkward professors. The issue at hand, a satisfying sexual encounter, was never mentioned, but always present. Sharon made sure that wine glasses were always full, and very soon the unease dissolved in alcohol.
She was very proud of her girls. They mingled, flirted, permitted a few caresses, but stopped short of hands beneath sweaters or up skirts. Now the tension became purely sexual. Sharon switched the soft music she’d had on earlier for something with rhythm and a beat, something like Lennie might play at the strip club, without the volume.
It was time to close the sale. Sharon rang a soft gong and on cue, the girls slipped out of the room.
“Gentlemen,” she said. “I’m sorry there’s not seating for all. Usually the room won’t be nearly so full, so if you return, and we hope you will, you can be assured of comfortable seating, among other pleasures. We want your time here at the Faculty Club to be relaxing and pleasurable. Always, your visits will be kept in the strictest confidence.
“I’m sure you’ve all guessed that we aim to provide more than a place to drink wine and read the newspaper. Here is a sample of our offering.”
Again, the soft gong, this time followed by the girls entering from the hallway leading into the bedrooms. They’d made a quick change from their regular clothes into lingerie, some only modestly revealing, some barely there at all. The room went deathly quiet as the six coeds strolled like pixies among the men, caressing a cheek here, grasping an arm there, but always moving. Then they all skipped to the side and stood waiting in a corner of the room.
“I think our plan is clear enough.” Sharon hadn’t yet had time to change from her street clothes. “I know that some of you will not wish to partake of our offering, and I thank you for coming.”
Three men went to the front door, but two returned after a couple of minutes.
“I assume those of you remaining would like to know more about our operation. As with all good things, our girls come at a price, and that price is one thousand dollars a month, payable in cash. For that sum, you will have free access to our young ladies five nights a week from the hours of seven to nine o’clock. As I said before, all encounters here are conducted in complete confidentiality.
“Those of you who wish to sample our offering may do so tonight, free of charge. If you wish to continue to visit the Faculty Club, and I hope most of you will, payment is due in cash at the first of each month. Anyone who signs up will be given a number code, and that is the only way you’ll be identified. As I said, your presence here will be kept in strict confidentiality. Are there any questions?” Sharon asked.
“Where do I sign up?” The questioner was a tall, gaunt individual with a straggly beard.
Sharon had seen him on campus but didn’t know his department.
“I want the little redhead,” he said, pointing to Brenda.
Her pale complexion failed to hide her blush, which probably made her all the more alluring for her suitor. She took his arm and led him away.
All it took was one man to break the ice, then the others followed. For a while, Sharon felt like a traffic cop at rush hour, trying to match up girls and horny professors. The last man in line looked a bit young to be senior faculty.
“Any preference among the girls?” she asked.
“Yeah, I want you.”
She took a deep breath and smiled at her first client. Well, I’m now officially a whore.
What’s your favorite part about being a romance author?
Finding out what happens next. That’s really why I write and read.
Here’s my tip to add romance to your love life:
According to my wife, I’m the last person anyone should consult about their love life.
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Runs February 1 – 29
Drawing will be held on March 2.
A native Tar Heel, Mike Owens obtained his undergraduate and medical degrees from the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, NC, and later, an MFA in creative writing from Old Dominion University in Norfolk, VA, where he now resides. His topics in fiction vary widely, ranging from science themes to end-of-life issues to erotica…go figure! He’s currently working on a paranormal romance novel which should be out later this year.
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