This agreement is hereby entered into willingly and without coercion between Stewart Allen Harrington, hereinafter referred to as Mr. Harrington, and Victoria Ann Conway, hereinafter referred to as Ms. Conway. Mr. Harrington and Ms. Conway hereby agree on May—

I shook my head in disbelief. It was dated for tomorrow. Stewart was either confident or extremely cocky. As I continued reading I began to decipher which.

The terms of this binding agreement between Mr. Harrington and Ms. Conway are as follows:

1. Mr. Harrington and Ms. Conway agree that all that occurs under the terms of this contract are confidential and consensual.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention. I may not know much about contracts, but could he really contract my consent? Wasn’t that something that I’d need to give as each instance occurred?

2. Specific information regarding the personal and sexual activity of Mr. Harrington and Ms. Conway may not be disclosed by either party to anyone outside of the experience. Failure to comply with this term will result in immediate breach of contract and void of all financial compensation.

What the hell does outside of the experience mean?

I went to the desk in the corner of the room and searched through the drawers. Finding paper and a pen, I went back to the contract and started making notes. If I were actually considering this ridiculous proposal, I wanted my questions answered.

Two hours later, with two pages of questions, including clause numbers and addendum citations, my head spun. The knock on the bedroom door pulled me from my concentration. Bristling, I sat straight and glanced toward the sound. Somehow I’d become safe within the cocoon of the four walls. It was true: I was engrossed in the contract, clauses, and addendums that could very well define my life, but upon the plush silk sofa with a view that marveled the one in the living room, I’d found security.

Stewart had promised that we wouldn’t have sex before I made my decision. No, he’d said not until I asked—or begged. That seemed impossible, but then again, what part of this scenario was possible? What if he were the one knocking? Did I want it to be him? Would seeing him again help me make a decision?

I hadn’t seen anyone except Lisa since I’d left his office, over—I looked at my watch: 10:30 PM—five hours ago. The knock came again.

“Just a moment,” I called as I made my way toward the door. Opening it only a crack, I peered around the edge.

“Miss Conway?”

I exhaled the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Lisa, it’s you.” I opened the door wider.

Smiling, the kind woman said, “Yes, miss. I’m about ready to go to my room for the night. However, I first wanted to be sure you were comfortable. Is there anything I can get for you?”

“Lisa, could you please come in for a minute?”

“Certainly.” She stepped across the threshold. Her grin widened, making her light blue eyes shine. “I see you found the clothes. I’m glad they fit.”

I looked down at my bare feet peeking out from the end of the yoga pants and the unbelievably soft t-shirt that hung from one shoulder. It was just the kind of thing I liked to wear around the dorm room in the evening, much more comfortable than the heels and dress that my parents had instructed me to wear for my mystery meeting.

“Yes, I found these as well as a few other things. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. However, it wasn’t me. It was Mr. Harrington. He wants you to be as comfortable as possible.”

I edged toward the window and gestured toward the sofa and chair. “Would you mind having a seat for a few minutes? I’ve been reading this contract for hours, and I have so many questions.” Suddenly I thought about the nondisclosure clause. Would talking to her be a violation of that clause? Would all of this have been for nothing, even if I opted for the walk-away agreement?

The concern must have been evident. Lisa reached for my hand and using a reassuring tone said, “It’s okay. You can talk to me about it. Mr. Harrington showed me the documents. He assumed you might be more comfortable talking to me than to him.”

“S-so… if we speak about it, it doesn’t constitute my breaking the do-not-disclose clause or agreement?”

“No.” Lisa sat and looked at the table where I had left the contract and my notes. “I’m glad you’re taking this seriously. I was concerned that with your…”

“My age?” I asked, finishing her sentence.

“Yes. I don’t mean any disrespect, my dear. It’s just that Mr. Harrington is an intense man. He didn’t make his offers lightly. This arrangement has been thoroughly researched and dissected. I was concerned, before I met you…” She added with a nod in my direction. “…that you would think it to be a flippant offer.”

I closed my eyes. My head ached from all the deliberating. “I assure you, Lisa, I’m not a silly child. I may be only eighteen, but I’ve been making life-altering decisions for much longer than I should. I’ve not had the most stellar parental support.”

“Given the circumstances, I presumed. How may I help you?”

After trying to understand all the verbiage in a purely technical manner, having Lisa’s kind words and expressions brought emotion where I’d worked to keep it away. I didn’t want emotion. Even at my young age, I’d found that my head made better decisions than my heart.

I abruptly stood from the chair near Lisa and walked to the window. With the night sky, the ocean below was dark: the only exceptions were the scatterings of lights here and there from ships, yachts, or boats. From the height of the penthouse, the expanse was enormous. I searched for the horizon: the place where the black water met the darkened sky. The moonless, starless night made the differentiation difficult.