Two Hundred Dollars Ch. 07

169 Dollars

Bailey managed to avoid Kent for the rest of Thursday and on into Friday. She spent a lot of that time trying to figure out whether she cared about what had passed between them.

By Friday afternoon, after a great deal of deliberation, including the consultation of several online dictionaries while browsing in incognito mode, she had definitely decided that her actions in no way constituted prostitution.

Despite this clarity, she avoided Kent, which didn't take too much work with his weird schedule keeping him in the lab into the early evening hours.

With everything buzzing around in her mind, she also decided to skip out on Friday. She knew she could have gone to visit him in the afternoon, or even the late evening, but his schedule had already made her squeeze three dollars into Thursday and she thought she deserved a break. That especially seemed true every time she remembered his twitching penis in her hand.

Bailey made sure to get to bed Friday night before Kent got home.

Lying in bed, she figured it shouldn't really bother her, all things considered. She'd almost always masturbated after and she'd assumed Kent did, too. Bailey had never pretended to herself that paying her debt with her ass cheeks didn't turn him on.

No, it didn't bother her, per se.

But it had changed things, somehow. The sexual undercurrent had crested, become different, and the undertow threatened to draw her under the waves into... another place. Every time she thought of that other place, her chest tightened and she had trouble swallowing. She would then remind herself to breathe again because nothing really pressed down upon her breast.

Saturday afternoon, she slipped out of the apartment, deciding she needed to visit a library on campus so she could focus better on her next midterm.

=============================

Kent breathed easier the moment he heard Bailey unlock her bedroom door. He practically deflated when she went up the stairs and left the apartment entirely.

He had no doubt she'd noticed his orgasm that time. He'd leaked right through his pants.

But she had driven that forward by turning her hand and clutching at his erection as he came, and that had made things even more confusing.

What did she mean by that? Did she plan any of it?

It hadn't felt planned, not by anyone.

Their original design had focused on the whiteboard, a device which demonstrated she still had one hundred sixty nine dollars to pay him. The intention, clearly stated by Bailey, was to pay off this debt by offering her cheeks to his hand (and once, a wooden spoon).

That such would turn him on, they both took as a given.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

Jerking him off hadn't started out as part of the deal.

But she'd definitely bitten into his neck, driving him to spank her even harder with every count. He still had a mark where she'd sunk her teeth in. On top of that, she'd thrust into him to push him onward, and, once he'd started coming, she'd grabbed a hold tightly enough that his semen soaked through his boxer and sweatpants.

Of course, she hadn't asked for extra money for that, had she?

All of which left him wondering, why had she done it?

=============================

On a cold Saturday afternoon, Bailey gave up on studying and began to walk towards her apartment. She took an unnecessarily circuitous route, as if orbiting the house rather actually setting it as her destination.

We learned about orbital mechanics in Physics. It takes energy to get into an orbit, and it takes energy to come down out of it.

She remember the exception to that rule.

Unless you can burn up in the atmosphere.

It took her a while to accept where her feet had actually decided to take her. With a grimace, she pulled out her phone and sent a text message.

"You home?" she wrote.

"Studying. Yes." Laura wrote back.

"Can I come by?"

"kk"

When she received the last message, she stood only a few doors down from her friend's place. Laura had it good, by some standards, living with parents within walking distance of the university. They couldn't afford a large house, but Laura had her own room in the basement and she never went hungry, so she counted her blessings.

"Come on in," Sarah Anderson waved Bailey through. She called out, "Laura, your friend is here."

Laura thumped up the stairs from the basement and stuck her head out of the open door. "That was quick. You just texted."

"I was around," Bailey hesitated.

"You look cold, dear," Laura's mother observed. "Would you like some tea?"

"Oh, sure. Thanks, Mrs. Anderson."

At some point in the last couple of decades, children had stopped referring to adults with the prefixes "Mr." and "Mrs." throughout most of the country. The same could not be said for the state of Utah and, her parents having immigrated so recently, Laura had warned Bailey about this before her first visit.

It seemed to Bailey that Mrs. Anderson must have had a kettle of water ready because she had started pouring by the time Bailey had shed her boots and jacket.

"There you go, dear," the kindly woman said. "You just sit tight and warm up. I'm on my way to run a few errands."

Laura and Bailey sat at the kitchen table quietly, waiting until Laura's mother had left.

"You have an awful lot of pictures of Jesus," Bailey pointed out while collecting her thoughts.

"Yeah, well," Laura shrugged, "We're Mormons. Technically."

Laura waited.

"So," she leaned in closer to Bailey. "How are things?"

"Good," Bailey replied distantly. "Just popped by school. Y'know, library. Studying. Books."

Bailey sipped her tea, not making eye contact.

"Normally we can talk about things," Laura observed. "But we can't, and I think that's you. So you're having problems."

Bailey felt her cheeks flush.

"Things got... a little weird," Bailey volunteered, staring into her teacup and taking a sip.

Laura nodded patiently. "Things were already weird, though. All things considered."

Bailey raised her eyebrows but didn't look up.

"I mean," Laura went on casually, "With the whole, 'paying a debt with spankings' and what not."

"Okay," Bailey rolled her eyes. "A little weirder."

Laura became very wary suddenly and sat up straight, "Wait, he didn't.. make you do anything, did he?"

"No, no," Bailey answered instantly. "Not like that."

"But... 'weird'... regardless?"

"Yeah," Bailey sucked in the left side of her lips and bit down.

Laura waited a little longer. "But you don't want to tell me how weird."

Bailey's eyes bugged out for a moment. What did she want to tell Laura?

"It's not dangerous or anything, okay?" she managed to stammer out.

"Okay."

She looked Laura in the eyes.

"It's just made things a bit awkward."

"Awkward?" Laura's eyebrows rose. "You can take your pants off and crawl into a guy's lap, and yet there's something that can make you feel awkward around the guy?"

Bailey shrugged and sipped her tea, not meeting Laura's eyes.

"And then you came here?"

This time she looked up into Laura's eyes, knowing the pleading look she gave her friend.

"So-o-o," Laura concluded. "How long has it been since The Awkwardness?"

"Thursday."

Laura nodded. "And you've been avoiding him?"

Bailey gave a roll of her eyes that meant, somehow, an affirmative.

"So, would it be less awkward if, perhaps," Laura paused dramatically, "you had some company to break the ice?"

Bailey sighed with relief, squeaking out, "Yes, please."

She admitted to herself then why she had come, but it had taken a lot of Laura's digging for her to really understand why.

At least I didn't have to tell her what happened, she thought, followed by, although it can't be hard to figure out.

To her credit, Laura didn't appear the least bit haughty about it. She could have taken the moment to sneer or hold it over her friend, especially after making such a big deal out of not letting her drop by on her own. But Laura didn't appear to hold a grudge, instead leaning forward eagerly.

"I'll help out," Laura said. "One on condition."

Bailey froze, wondering what her friend could possibly want.

"The Awkwardness happened on Thursday?"

"Ye-es."

"When was the last time you did it before that?"

"Monday."

"Alright," Laura firmed up her voice. "You tell me how you did it Monday, so you don't have to tell me about the awkward thing, and I'll help you."

Bailey's breath caught in her throat. How much could she tell?

"I did three on Monday," she volunteered. "No pants."

Laura nodded. "When on Monday? Morning, noon, night?"

"All three."

"What?"

"I, sort of, spent the whole day in my underwear," she couldn't meet Laura's eyes. "And he just, got me whenever he wanted."

"Whoa," Laura's eyes brimmed with admiration as she steepled her fingers together. "I want details on that."

Bailey embellished her account somewhat, judiciously editing out several parts, like the outdoor spanking, the two shots with the wooden spoon and the bit at the very end, where she had ground herself into Kent's lap.

When she finished, Laura nodded in wide-eyed appreciation. It took almost a minute for her to collect her thoughts.

"Okay," she said, finishing her tea. "Just walking over there for spankings won't cut it. We need a plan."

"A plan?" Bailey wondered aloud.

"Yeah, Captain Obvious," Laura's voice filled with sarcasm. "Something cool, and something to overcome this Awkwardness that you won't describe to me."

"Oh, okay," Bailey kept her voice flat.

"And the first step is those clothes," Laura waved a derogatory hand at Bailey's entire body.

"What's wrong with my clothes?" Bailey felt indignation rise up in her voice.

"Nothing, nothing," Laura said. "They're just -- except for the panties -- always the same."

"Oh."

"It's no biggee, though," Laura pointed. "We're not exactly the same size, but I'm sure I have something, maybe from a couple years ago?"

=============================

They rehearsed their plan as they walked over.

"Why do we have to drink my alcohol?" Bailey asked, shivering as they travelled the few blocks back to the apartment she shared with Kent.

"Do you know how hard it is to hide alcohol in my house?" Laura replied. "Besides. You're the one feeling awkward."

"And you're just along for the ride, I get it."

Bailey hugged her folded up blue jeans to her chest. She'd have preferred to get changed after she got home, given the air temperature after sunset, but they'd decided they didn't really have a choice. The architecture of the apartment gave her no way to get to her room -- or any room - to change without walking past Kent's door. And since Kent generally left his door open, that couldn't happen.

So she'd changed at Laura's and now had to walk home wearing her beige fall boots, her fall jacket and an emerald green, pleated skirt that went just past her knees.

"I don't wear skirts," she protested for the third time.

"So you've said. Repeatedly," Laura rolled her eyes.

Bailey looked at her friend, respecting her ability to pull off a skirt.

Some people have the hips for that, or the walk for it, or the... whatever the hell I don't have... for it.

"You look fine," Laura soothed, as if detecting the envy in Bailey's thoughts.

A cold breeze worked its way under the skirt, chilling its way up her thighs.

"Why couldn't I have the ankle-length skirt?"

"Because you have the tiny waist," Laura explained. "This one wouldn't fit you."

"Jesus Christ," Bailey cursed.

Laura coughed uncomfortably. "Do you really have to blaspheme like that?"

For a brief moment, Bailey forgot every other trouble in her life.

"Are you kidding?" she hugged her jeans closer. "We're on our way to get spanked and get half-drunk and you think Jesus is going to care about words?"

Laura exhaled a snort through her nose, almost indignant.

"It's just... not right."

Bailey raised her eyebrows, but another breeze wiped out her expression of disbelief in place of another shiver.

"I hope this is worth it," she said as they rushed up her driveway.

The door had remained lock, probably, since she'd left. Bailey quickly unlocked it and waved Laura in before her. The warm air rushed up inside her skirt as she stepped into the apartment and swung the door closed behind her. In a second, the door was locked and the girls tiptoed down the stairs.

When they reached the bottom, Bailey looked down the hallway. Kent still had his bedroom light on, but Carson's room and the kitchen stood dark in the distance. The living room hosted no one either.

"It's just us and Kent," Bailey whispered.

"You're sure?" Laura asked warily.

"Sure."

"I'll wait here," Laura nodded and Bailey walked towards his door.

=============================

Kent had heard the door open but otherwise tried to ignore what it might mean. Whoever had come in had used a key and otherwise stayed very quiet. He had no way to tell which of his roommates had just come home, but figured that Carson had no need for this level of stealth.

It had to be Bailey, and he could imagine only one reason for keeping the sounds of her entry so quiet: to avoid running into him.

So it came as quite a surprise when Bailey's cheery voice called out, "Hey, Kent!"

He turned his head with a twitch and looked in time to see her pass in the hallway, a flowing wave of shimmering green.

Bailey never flows, he thought, in the brief moment before she disappeared from view.

And he could have sworn she'd not just flowed, but done so in some kind of shiny, dark green number that perfectly worked with her beige jacket and short, reddish hair.

His heart seemed to lurch to a stop in his chest. While Bailey seemed quite chipper, he still felt a chill under his clothes, a tremor in his hands, as he thought about their last, messy incident.

What must Bailey think of me?

Echoing down the hallway, he heard the sound of clinking glass. Bailey, it seemed, intended to have a drink.

Is that how she plans to recover from this?

He didn't really like the idea of covering embarrassment with alcohol, nor did he like the idea that she might use drunkenness to go farther than she meant to go while sober. The thought of this did nothing to ease the heartbeat that fluttered irregularly in his chest.

As he considered this, his eyes betrayed him for a moment and he shook his head as movement came from the left side of his door instead of the right.

=============================

Laura timed it so she stepped into the doorway just as Bailey came in with her bottle of schnapps in one hand and three shot glasses in the other. In a testament to just how carefree she felt, Laura noted that Bailey held the little containers by sticking her fingers into them. She didn't pay attention to that, though, for her eyes were on Kent.

She caught her first glimpse of him the moment she peeked around the corner. He almost jumped out of his chair, which made sense given he hadn't expected her. But, before he even reacted, she could see the tension in his body in the bunch of his shoulders and the compression of his lips. His dark hair, normally somewhat neat, seemed slightly unkempt.

Even as her friend swept by in a slightly ungainly stream of emerald fabric, Laura watched Kent's eyes attach hungrily, but without arousal, to her own eyes. His shoulders dropped. He exhaled. That body language could have signalled disappointment at Laura's presence, but she knew relief when she saw it. Kent greeted her happily as a bulwark against whatever had got itself between him and Bailey.

So, she thought, the Awkwardness flows both ways, does it?

Laura followed Bailey into Kent's room, dimming the lights as she went, and Kent's eyes had already shifted to Bailey.

"Nice skirt," he complimented, his gaze taking in the boots and the short jacket she still wore.

She still felt stunned, despite the length brisk walk over, by Bailey's description of her personal way of celebrating Canadian Thanksgiving Day (which, she noted, she ought to just get over and start calling "Thanksgiving Day"). She couldn't imagine prancing around in her panties all day with somebody else in the apartment. Her parents just hadn't raised her that way, especially back in Utah when they still wore those extra garments under everything.

Laura shook her head as Bailey had already laid out the shot glasses on the desk. She stepped past Kent, who had turned in his chair to watch Bailey, and leaned up against the bed, crossing her tall, black boots at the ankles.

=============================

Kent adjusted his pants as subtly as he could, but he didn't pretend neither of the girls noticed. He watched as Bailey poured the amber liquid and Laura took a seat on his bed. She seemed to want everyone to see her boots.

On the other hand, while both girls had half unzipped their jackets, neither had actually removed her jacket.

Bailey held up the three shot glasses clutched together in her hands and held the first one out to Kent.

"First one's on me," she said, carefully avoiding any spillage. She looked Kent in the eye, "Next one's on you."

Kent nodded as he took the glass and watched Bailey hand the other glass to Laura.

"What are we drinking to?" Kent asked.

Laura and Bailey looked at each other, and Laura spoke a heartbeat later, "Bottoms up?"

Kent laughed, but held up his glass.

"Bottoms up!" they chorused and downed the sharp liquid.

"Ai-yi-yi!" Laura slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand repeatedly. "What do I normally shoot that doesn't burn like this?"

"Creamy nonsense, probably," Bailey replied, shivering slightly as the alcohol ran through her.

Kent closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, knowing the alcohol would hit his blood in a few minutes.

"Long week, huh?" Laura asked.

"He had a very large project, with some very stupid people," Bailey explained and turned to Kent. "And whined about it like a baby."

"Those were very stupid people," Kent enunciated. "Like trying to get monkeys to build a Lego set, but all they wanted to do was throw shit at each other."

"Excellent analogy," Laura closed her eyes and shook her head. "Vivid use of imagery. A-plus."

"I'm feeling graded," Kent lowered his eyebrows and glared at her.

"You're feeling degraded?" Bailey asked.

"Graded. Just graded."

"No, seriously," Laura slapped her shot glass down on Kent's desk and held up a threatening finger. "You technical types usually suck with words... and talking."

She stood and peered off into the hallway. "But imagine: a whole troop of chimpanzees surrounding a table with a pile of building blocks and a -" she opened an imaginary book "- sheet of instructions. And then they just start throwing poop at each other."

"Brilliant," she announced, leaning over toward Kent and padded him gently on the cheek.

"Hitting her pretty fast," Kent observed, starting to feel warmth in his body.

"Al-ways does," Bailey drawled out.

Laura sat back down on the bed and folded her arms, defiantly declaring her sobriety.

"Are we going to start now?" she asked.

"Fine," Bailey walked past Kent, took the marker and made one tick mark on the board.

"Just one?" Kent asked.

"For now," Laura sang out.

"Are you sharing it?" Kent wondered aloud.

"Basically," Bailey tilted her head. She held out her hand, signalling Laura to remove and hand over her beige scarf. Moving behind Kent, she placed it over his eyes. "We're going to find hiding spots somewhere in the apartment."