Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
“I see,” Rick says in a deep tone. “But what do you need the money for? Your mom’s illness is covered through Tatti’s health insurance plan, and I believe Sally’s getting disability too, right? So there’s money coming in.”
I nod, my cheeks burning a bit.
“There is, yes, but being gravely ill is extraordinarily expensive. Sally’s treatments themselves are paid for by insurance, yes, but her chemo takes place at St. John’s Medical, which is about two hours away from us. Sally’s too tired to travel after chemo, and so what I’ve been doing is booking a hotel room near the hospital for her to stay at. Plus, the treatments can be twice a week, spaced a few days apart, so the hotel rooms add up, not to mention the food, gas, car rental, and other miscellaneous items. None of that is covered by insurance.”
“Of course not,” Rick says immediately. “But I’m happy to cover the costs. You only had to ask, sweetheart. Or your mom could have asked, and I would have footed the bill.”
“No, it’s fine,” I say quickly, blushing hot. “It’s not necessary. You’ve already done enough, Mr. Purdy, and we can’t ask for more.”
Despite my straightforward words, I wonder if the billionaire can sense how attracted I am to him because the CEO is hands-down gorgeous. I didn’t know I was attracted to older men, but there’s something about Rick Purdy which screams virility and charisma. He’s tall, at least six three, with dark hair with some grey at the temples, but it only makes him look distinguished. His features are chiseled with a high forehead, roman nose, and square jaw, but it’s his eyes that always make me go weak inside. I feel like Mr. Purdy’s eyes can see everything, and that means through my swimsuit, although of course, he wouldn’t look.
I should know too because in the last year or so, I’ve blossomed. I used to be the worst stereotype of a surly teenager with a hoodie pulled up so that you couldn’t see my face, ratty hair that hadn’t been washed in days, and stubborn acne on my forehead and chin. I was thin, too, and my baggy sweatshirt and loose jeans hung off my frame like a scarecrow. But two years ago, things began to change, subtly but surely. First, my acne cleared up, and because I felt better about my skin, I started wearing flattering clothes that highlighted my shape, instead of hiding it. Plus, I actually had a shape now, instead of being rail thin. My breasts grew until I sported Double D’s, and my hips widened until they could realistically be called child-bearing. I started taking care of my hair too, using conditioner and a special hot oil treatment so that my blonde tresses are long and glossy, with a natural wave. My lips are full and pouty, and my eyes are enhanced by long lashes that give me the look of a vixen.
All this has been useful too because Only Fans wants its creators to be sexy. Sure, there are some folks who tell jokes on-line, or who make deep, in-depth content on meditation and “finding the inner heart.” But I’d say that ninety-nine percent of the girls on OF are putting out sexy content because that’s what sells. It’s what our customers want, and it’s the easiest and fastest way to make money.
But still, how do I explain this to Mr. Purdy? God, it’s already embarrassing enough that I have to ask him to be my photographer, but at the same time, his services genuinely are needed. I can’t leave my fans hanging for ten days because they’ll desert me. These guys are hungry for content, and they’ll cancel their subscriptions if I don’t feed their addiction. A steady slew of sexy photos and videos are needed, and if I don’t provide, then I’ll lose my income.
So I take another deep breath and look Rick straight in the eye.
“Again, I appreciate your generosity Mr. Purdy, but it’s not necessary. I’ve got a good thing going, and I’m grateful for what Only Fans has done for me and my mom. Sally is able to rest in peace and quiet after her chemo treatments, and we’re able to afford extras too. I can buy her the brand name cereal that she likes, instead of the generic, and we’re able to add a few extra hours to her home health care aide. Priscilla has been wonderful through all of this, and it’s my OF income that makes it possible to retain her for twelve hours, or even overnight when my mom goes for her infusions. It’s made a world of difference because otherwise I’d have to miss a lot of school.”
“Of course,” Rick nods thoughtfully, rubbing his square jaw with one hand. “I didn’t think of that.”