Dark BWWM Romance Books | Purchased For Pregnancy FREE Sample

It’s about time I make an announcement about Book #2. Book #1 in the series, Purchased For Submission is live now and tells the story of Fallon and Stavros. Want to know more about them? You can get updates in this book. But mainly, this book is about single father Loukas Pagonis and his daughter’s best friend, Tisha West.

Tisha is a beautiful, 18-year-old and the last person on earth Loukas Pagonis expected to end up with… especially when losing his last FOUR partners under mysterious circumstances.

I’ve posted some chapters on my Patreon already (they get the first look) and so far, readers are LOVING the chapters. The taboo romance between Loukas and Tisha makes their chemistry even HOTTER and you can tell that they’ll have to get through some MESS to have their HEA.
Keep reading to check out the first chapter…

Eager for the story already?

Click here to pre-order.

Purchased For Pregnancy | April 10th 2021

Purchased For Pregnancy | April 10th 2021

Purchased For Pregnancy FREE Excerpt | Chapter #1

“Papa!” Carlotta shrieks from the boat deck, “Papa! It’s Stavros!”

I don’t want to go above deck because if I go above deck, I’ll have to face her. Not Carlotta. Her brown-skinned friend, Tisha West. She looks nothing like Stavros’ woman, despite the Greek conviction that all those with African skin tones look the same. She has full lips and she’s slighter of frame with smaller breasts and a much larger ass. She’s lying on my pool deck right now and Carlotta lent her one of the tiny pink thong bikinis I told her to throw away. My daughter never listens.

I poke my head up the stairs.

“Stavros?”

“He’s on the phone.”

I run up the stairs and avoid looking at the girl lying to my left, covered in tanning oil. What the hell does she need tanning oil for? The girl is one of the darkest I’ve ever seen. I’d like to look at her again. Even if looking at her makes me a sick old man. She’s my daughter’s age. And I’m... a murderer. I snatch the phone from Carlotta. I left it upstairs for a reason. I don’t want to talk to my brother.

“What do you want?” I snap. 

Fuck. It’s my young sister, Helen. Some idiot ex-boyfriend of hers got it in his head that he could raid our family villa and he somehow made it past Galanos, Papa and Antonio. Stavros just got there to clean up their mess, but not before the idiot ex-boyfriend could get her. He shot Helen. I hang up and toss the phone to Carlotta.

“What is it, Papa?” 

“We need to go. I’m taking us back to shore.”

“Papa! I’m working on my tan with Tisha!”

Carlotta pouts, her red lips jutting forward as she points to Tisha, asleep on the boat deck, lying on her stomach with her big bum exposed. I swear, if a Pagonis woman dressed like that, I would be the first to smack her. Carlotta wears a more conservative two-piece swimsuit and only because she didn’t talk to me for several days when I burned her Louis Vuitton bikini.

“Your brother’s in trouble. Your aunt has been shot.”

“Cassia?”

“No. Helen. Now get up and wake your friend.”

Carlotta snaps, “She has a name papa. You never want to acknowledge her. I understand if YiaYia is racist, but you have no excuse.”

“Damn it, Carlotta. I don’t need to argue with you.”

She folds her arms and pops her hip. It’s like my twenty year old daughter is a teenager. We bring the worst out of each other. 

“You’re a chauvinist, papa! A dirty chauvinist. You think women are objects because you’re a filthy old man and I HATE you!”

“You hate me? I pay your bloody tuition from the sweat of my brow.”

“Don’t test me, papa!”

“I buy every fucking thing you own you little brat.”

She gasps.

“I hate you! Why don’t you do what you always do and push me overboard. Put me in the fucking sea where you put mama.” 

Tisha’s nervous American accent rises above my daughter’s clatter. I hate fighting with Carlotta. She looks too much like me — blue eyes and hair the color of coffee beans.

“Carlotta? Is everything okay?” 

She rolls over and I can’t tell if it’s a blessing or a curse that I can no longer see her ass in that thong bikini. The view from the front feels less lewd somehow. Her thighs cover her crotch but her soft, smooth stomach draws my attention with a piercing through her navel. She’s so young, like Carlotta. I don’t like young women, I remind myself. I’m forty-one years old and much too old for a girl my daughter’s age. I’m much to old to go after a girl like this and have her end up dead. 

Carlotta glowers at me as she answers her friend.

“I’m fine. My dad’s just a total loser.”

Carlotta storms off downstairs and I storm off to the railing. Fuck. I am such a shitty parent. Ana would have known what to do with the children. I met her when Carlotta was fifteen and she wanted to be a mother. My kids didn’t scare her. Then she got pregnant. After she gave birth to Zoe, she died. Murder, like all the others. I sent Zoe away to live with her aunt after Matilda. 

I corrupted the other children already but Zoe doesn’t have to turn out just another fucked up Pagonis. Carlotta will never forgive me for sending her sister away. Fuck. Not even the fucking ocean can make me feel better. I feel a small hand on my shoulder and jerk back thinking it’s Carlotta returning to slap me in the face. It won’t be the first time Carlotta’s slapped me. 

If YiaYia ever found out... 

I tell myself that I won’t let my grandmother hurt my children the way she fucked up Stavros or Galanos. Or me. As the eldest boy, I was her favorite for a while. But YiaYia prefers Galanos. He’s more cruel. The hand on my shoulder is Tisha’s and I turn around with such a fierce look on my face that she jumps back.

“Sorry, Mister Pagonis,” she says with a soft voice. She has a beautiful American accent with a voice that’s more breath than force.

“It’s fine. You startled me. Enjoying the boat?”

“Oh, this is awesome. I love the ocean. Greece is so beautiful. It’s way better than Brooklyn.”

“Is that where you’re from?”

“Uh huh.”

“Hm.”

I don’t know what to say to her. She’s too beautiful. I’ve never been skilled at talking to beautiful women and Tisha isn’t just a beautiful woman. She’s young. A ruby pendant hangs around her neck drawing my eye to her ample breasts.

 And she’s wearing a bathing suit that no Greek man in his right mind would have ever let his daughter run out in — at least when I was a young man. Granted, I haven’t been a young man for a long time.

“I heard you and Carlotta fighting. I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“You’re more worried about me than your friend?”

I instantly regret the question. It’s too forward. The question itself is nearly flirtatious. She leans against the railing next to me, her breasts nearly falling out of that tiny bikini top. I will myself not to stare at this young woman’s breasts even if temptation menaces me.

“Don’t tell Carlotta I said this but... she’s rude to you sometimes. She doesn’t appreciate all this stuff. I’d kill for a boat.”

My heart swells with pride. Every parent wants that acknowledgement from their kids. Every bullshit job I do for my father, every gun I’ve ever sold, I’ve done it so my children can have a better life. Carlotta doesn’t see it that way. Unlike Tisha, she sees more than the boats, the villas and the cars. She sees the darker side of our Thessaloniki wealth.

“No need to kill. Just work hard and one day, you may afford one.”

The statement is the boldest lie I’ve told all week. But I have to set a good example for the girl. 

Papa gave me the boat when I killed three men at seventeen, long before Tisha was a twinkle in her father’s nutsack. My response provokes a laugh from Tisha. Her whole body moves when she laughs. Her smile is fucking beautiful and her breasts... She squeezes them up against the railing, trying to lean over and catch the sea breeze in her curls but inadvertently making my cock rise to attention.

Hey, asshole, there’s a beautiful woman standing next to you and you haven’t gotten any in months!

Thessaloniki street walkers don’t count. I have needs but... I’d prefer one woman. But I’m better now. 

Not completely better because I stare at Tisha’s breasts and think about her nipples.

Yiayia claims I have the Pagonis curse — excessive virility she calls it. YiaYia will believe anything as long as it makes the Pagonis name look or sound good. She thinks we’re Gods. 

I realize I’m awkwardly silent and worse... I’m staring.

I wet my lips and realize something far worse than my erect cock or my lecherous gaze. Tisha notices. She stands up straight and adjusts her top so those marvelous plump breasts escape my view.

“I’m going to check on Carlotta, Mister Pagonis,” Tisha mumbles awkwardly. 

Fuck. The first chance I had to get close to her and I blow it by being a lecherous and perverted old man, staring at his daughter’s best friend. I watch her disappear below deck. She’s already seen me staring. It can’t hurt to look at her ass... 

Look at me. I’m a sicko. My sister’s hurt and I’m thinking about a woman. Maybe YiaYia’s right about men. We’re too easy to manipulate. And I know Tisha’s name. I just can’t bear to say it because of what happened. What was all my fault... 

Click here to order.

What do you think? Let me know what you think of this sample in the comment section below. Have you read Book #1 yet? I look forward to reading your comments here.

BWWM Dark Romance Books: Purchased For Submission | Greek Mafia Brotherhood (Book #1)

It’s been a LONG time since you’ve had a new mafia romance story from me. If you enjoyed my release Purchased For Pleasure, you’ll love sinking your teeth into a new exciting mafia romance with similar themes, lots of sex, secrets, twists and turns.

The first installment to my upcoming mafia romance series launches in February and you can click here to pre-order the book: smarturl.it/4submission

Until then, enjoy the first chapter 100% FREE on the blog when you keep scrolling.

This is a dark mafia romance story and definitely not for the faint-hearted. If you want to know how our heroine (Fallon, my home girl) melts the heart of this cold-blooded mafia killer… keep reading.

Chapter One WILL leave you wanting more. I’ll be posting the first five chapters on my Patreon page and you can join if you’d like. You’re free to ignore this offer of course, but it’s a fun community of like-minded interracial romance readers with TONS of reading material and listening material for members. (Click here to join.)

Purchased For Submission (2021)

Purchased For Submission (2021)

Chapter One | Auction Block

Eight auctions a year. That’s how many of these I sit through. I loathe them, but when you’re a part of this family, you get used to doing shit you don’t want to do. At least the women are always beautiful. Too beautiful. You’d think someone would notice these women going missing. Khalid has a knack for it — luring beautiful women lusting after fame or power into his clutches. Once he has them, he brings them here to the auction.

Tata sent me here to bring back my sister. It’s the only reason I’m smiling and drinking vodka with these sick motherfuckers instead of brooding in a corner like I normally do. The auctioneer speaks about the first one like he’s talking about a Ming dynasty vase.

“Meet Kim, she’s Korean, loves a big dominant man but willing to work for a woman. She’s been pregnant once but would make a great surrogate or breed mare for individual gentlemen. We begin the bidding at £20,000.” 

Kim got herself on Khalid’s bad side because she has a black eye and she’s whimpering, showing visible signs of distress that Khalid hates people to see. Men here like the illusion that women give a shit about them, like any chick in her right mind would get on that auction block without coercion.

If her trembling and now, loud whimpers, affect the price Khalid and his team get for her, she might make it to her new master’s house with a broken bone. My mouth is dry. There’s not enough vodka in the world to desensitize you to this shit. Only time, my father tells me. I don’t know if I ever want to be this sick.

I glance over at my father and he shakes his head. We’re not in the habit of buying sex slaves although once or twice, we’ve purchased a girl or two — for re-sale. We mostly have Loukas to blame for that.

“We have a bidder! £20,000. Can we get £25,000?” 

Mr. Reichenbach buys Kim for £40,000. I wonder what happened to the girl he bought last quarter. He has a newer, younger floozy on his right arm now desperately straining on his sleeve to tear his gaze away from the woman he’s purchased. Tick tock, gold digger. They’re all disposable to him — the ones he buys and the ones he keeps as pets.

A gaunt waitress with a black collar around her neck approaches and offers a drink. One of Khalid’s personal harem. A little “K” hangs from her neck marking her as his personal sex slave.

“Vodka martini, Mr. Pagonis?”

“Dry.”

“Just the way you like it,” she whispers.

I grunt thanks and she seems surprised that I acknowledged her enough to say thank you. 

I finish the martini in one gulp. If I have to watch female after female parading out there with horror on her face, I get sick to my stomach. Don’t these women have fathers and brothers to protect them? Yiayia is the only person who enjoys these events. Not even my father enjoys them and he’s technically our leader. Everyone knows yiayia really calls the shots. 

A Thai girl who looks nineteen sells for £14,000 because she isn’t a virgin. A Duke from England buys a blonde-haired blue eyed American from South Carolina for £65,000. He likes Southern accents and women twenty years younger than him. My father raises two fingers and I’m the only one who notices his signal. It’s simple. We bid on her. Then all hell breaks loose.

But the night doesn’t go according to plan because Khalid’s man on stage announces, “Sapphire. She’s African American with perfect proportions. She’ll need a handler with a firm hand, someone willing to engage in frequent discipline. Nevertheless, she’s never had a baby and skilled enough for domestic labor. We recommend keeping her outside the United States.” 

She stares ahead, unflinching and proud. Khalid hasn’t broken her yet which means he mustn’t have had her long. 

She’s not the girl I’m here for. I’m here for my sister. Helen. Khalid’s a bastard and making us buy her back. One year searching for her and tonight we finally rescue her. My instincts draw me away from my purpose. Sapphire. She’s beautiful, with a raw umber skin tone and perfect lips. I can’t take my eyes off her. 

“Bidding starts at £13,000.”

An eighty year old man with mottled skin raises his card. 

“We have one bidder at £13,000. Anyone for £15,000.”

I raise my placard. Foolishly. Impulsively. Because I want her. Neither my father nor yiayia can control what I do with my own money and from the second Sapphire steps onto the block, I want her. She must be an American girl. I can tell from her proud expression, the disgust quivering in her lower lip and barely concealed. She doesn’t have visible markings on her which means whoever she is and wherever she came from, she was wise enough not to piss Khalid or any of his men off.

”£15,000. Anyone for £20,000?”

That aging bastard raises his placard again. Breaking protocol, I stand a say, “I’ll take her for £45,000.”

My hand’s on my weapon and everyone in this room knows that you don’t fuck with a Pagonis. 

“Sold!”

Khalid sends one of his girls over with a card containing handwritten instructions on what to do next. I’ve been through this before, I don’t need help. I look over at my father once I sit and he’s scowling. But relief floods the room because I have what I want and my hand isn’t on my weapon. 

I don’t know why I did this, but now I owe Khalid £45,000 and he hasn’t trotted my sister out yet to make us bid on her. It’s been too long since I’ve seen Helen. She comes on stage after Sapphire. She’s bruised and bloody. Khalid’s head would end up on a platter if he was the one who did this to her. Ironically, he’s the one who saved her but the bastard refuses to give Helen back without making us pay.

”Helen Pagonis. Bidding starts at £10,000.”

No one in the room is stupid enough to bid on my sister. I raise my placard. My father strokes his chin and observes the transaction silently. I’ve done what I came here to do. Once the auction ends, I follow Khalid’s instructions to the waiting room. After a short wait, he sends the girls in. My sister strides over to me and wraps her arms around me. I don’t hug her back. I haven’t seen Helen in a year and the last time I saw her, she wished me dead. 

“My brother...”

Sapphire stands against the door, terrified, like she’s thinking about running but smart enough to realize if she does that, she’s dead meat. At a private club like this, I’m not the scariest or most powerful guy in the room. Helen pulls away from me and I think she’s going to say something deeply sentimental.

Then, my sister slaps me across the cheek. Hard. 

If you enjoyed this story, you can pre-order now before launch in February.

Click here to get your early copy, FREE in Kindle Unlimited.

For more chapters as soon as they’re available, check out my Patreon page…

www.Patreon.com/jamilajasper

Dark Romance Books: Fraternity Girlfriend

FREE chapter of my upcoming dark bully romance release: Fraternity Girlfriend. Book #4 in a STEAMY romance series for interracial romance fans.

Read more

Dark Billionaire Romance For WMBW Romance Fans | Purchased For Pleasure (BWWM Billionaire Romance)

Caption: An iPad with a copy of Jamila Jasper’s billionaire romance Purchased For Pleasure sits on a table next to a cup of tea sitting on a saucer with two cookies next to it. A black woman’s hands grasp the tea cup and stir sugar into the cup.

Caption: An iPad with a copy of Jamila Jasper’s billionaire romance Purchased For Pleasure sits on a table next to a cup of tea sitting on a saucer with two cookies next to it. A black woman’s hands grasp the tea cup and stir sugar into the cup.

You can pre-order Purchased For Pleasure now! Click here to order. This is a sizzling hot story for all the cold months ahead…

If you enjoy a dark billionaire romance featuring an attractive white male with aquamarine eyes and a thick, full-figured black female lead, you’ll enjoy this BWWM romance story with a happily ever after ending.

This book has scenes that will make your heart throb and you’ll probably need to buy a brand new massage wand wink wink to cope with the heat between the thighs from this book.

Seriously… the story is out of control hot and perfect if you’ve been a thirsty lady this cuffing season.

Check out Chapter 1 here. Don’t hesitate to click here and one click order ASAP.

Romance Novel Excerpts | Purchased For Pleasure

Alice was twenty years old with little dating experience. She’d worked her ass off through high school, sometimes taking jobs that were less than legal to pay her way through college. Alice was an African American beauty whose booty didn’t go unappreciated by the men in her neighborhood. She had an hourglass figure with plump breasts and buttocks that attracted unwanted attention to a large degree. 

Alice hated feeling like she was constantly on display. Men gave her attention, but she never returned it. They didn’t know how to treat her. To them, she was just a pair of ass and tits. Alice hadn’t ever dreamed of becoming someone’s baby mama. She wanted more for herself than that, despite her past — the past of poverty that she never spoke about in her college setting.

Alice had ignored the advances of the men in her community her whole life. She’d made it to twenty years old, giving none of them the time of day. Alice felt lucky. She’d kept herself pure, and she wasn’t like some of her other friends who got knocked up the second they left high school. Alice knew love stories didn’t really happen for women like her, but she maintained her hope that just around the corner she’d meet the man of her dreams.

Unfortunately, he seemed to be just out of reach. Even when Alice tried to date, all the men were just looking for some fast action. They assumed that Alice’s alluring figure meant that she “put out”. Alice was just about ready to give up on dating altogether based on her last experience - her date had pinned her down in the back of his car and tried to force himself on her. No more men like that. Never.

Now that she was at university, and about to enter her last year, she found that she was not only tight on cash but thousands of dollars in debt. She couldn’t ask anyone in her family for money. Unlike some of her white peers, Alice didn’t have a safety net. She didn’t know how things had spiraled out of control, but now they’d threatened her with eviction, starvation or worse.

Alice wished she could turn to her mother, but there was no point trying to interact with Elise when she was using. That had been one of Elise’s biggest vices that Alice had been paying for since the day she was born. Elise had Alice at seventeen with a retired pimp twenty-five years her senior. Alice hated feeling like a stereotype or the product of a twisted situation. She knew it was technically wrong to feel ashamed of her mother and her circumstances, but she couldn’t help it. Few people in Alice’s life knew exactly what she was dealing with back home and what she was so desperate to avoid. 

Alice had never known her father, but she knew what he looked like from old pictures. He’d never been around much; Elise said that he had no interest in claiming Alice as his own. Alice believed her. The absence of a father in her life had always hurt her. That was one reason she’d vowed to save herself for the right man. 

Alice didn’t want to end up like Elise. Her mother had many boyfriends throughout Alice’s life, but when Alice was still in her teens, most of them became more interested in her than in her addict mother. None of them counted as a father figure. Not the ones that would do something nice for her only to try their hardest to get into her pants while she was underage. 

Alice hated them. Sometimes, she thought she hated her mother too. The world didn’t have to be so cold. Other girls in her school had mothers and fathers. And they made fun of her. She hated that. She loathed being the one who they called a stereotype. How did it make sense as a stereotype when she was the only one in her class without a dad? 

She wasn’t angry about it. The past disappeared… and it was the past. But she wanted more. She always had. 

The memories of her past hadn’t chilled Alice to the world. Some people succumb to pain and let it ruin them. Alice used her pain as motivation to work even harder. But even with her scholarship, she was still on the verge of bankruptcy and losing everything she’d worked for. Alice’s goal after college was to meet a nice, well-mannered guy, get a job working for a bank with her degree in finance and then have the perfect life. Her past didn’t have to ruin everything for her.

Alice hated feeling so defined by her tragic backstory, but she knew on some level that her experience motivated every single one of her actions.

Despite this hardship, Alice had made it out of her neighborhood and she had no intention of going back. She couldn’t face the same chicks who made fun of her, or the guys who mocked her skin color, her hair and the fact that she never had designer clothes. 

“Everybody knows her mama smokes crack!” one boy shouted during Alice’s last presentation senior year.

She didn’t want to carry the humiliation back on the old blocks. Even if it would have been nice to get a Jamaican patty from the corner store and one of those small sugary drinks. Alice had one mission: pay off this debt and get herself some cash fast. 

She had a good part-time job, but her income was not enough to cover her expenses. Things were spiraling and with no one to turn to, Alice considered a permanent way out. She wasn’t depressed. And she hated the thought of… giving up. But there wasn’t any money. She had no one to ask. She had no one to turn to. No parents. Barely any friends. Shit. 

“I’m such a fucking loser,” Alice muttered to herself.

She didn’t want to be a loser. She wanted to… breathe. Money solved more problems than it created. She didn’t believe more money meant more problems. Rich people made that line up to trick poor people into thinking they were better off. Ha! Alice would kill to relax in some ski chalet or to have $100 to spend on herself.

To add to her stress, her mother expected her to send cash home, not understanding that college was more of a financial burden than a source of income. Alice’s little brother Jevon, who was only five. Her aunty in the suburbs — who never returned Alice’s calls — adopted him. The adoption process had been brutal. Alice couldn’t stand knowing she’d failed her brother. And that her aunt thought she was just another deadbeat like her mom.

“Can’t you see, I’m trying my hardest! I’m just so fucking POOR!” Alice screamed into the phone.

But her aunt hung up. And Alice was alone again. She didn’t have time for boyfriends. Not like boyfriends wanted to be with what one guy called a “broke ass bitch”. Seriously… Did he have to drag her ass like that?

Alice longed to make enough money to bring her brother back, to get her mother the help she needed and to reunite their strange and broken family. It would never happen. Not with Wells Fargo about to slap her on the ass with a $15 overdraft fee. Why the fuck do I have to pay to be broke? Alice wondered.

Alice wanted Jevon back more than her mother did. Her mother barely wanted to get better. Alice couldn’t negotiate with her when she was using. She couldn’t get Elise to see that she was tearing her family apart. All she did was demand Alice send her money, call her a worthless skank and scream about her dealer. Once, she tried to convince Alice to sleep with her dealer for drugs. 

Desperate. That was the best word to describe her. So. Fucking. Desperate. Throughout college, she was friends with plenty of girls who were stripping to put their way through school. These girls had done what Alice never could. They spent their evenings and weekends at seedy strip clubs, making thousands of dollars a night. All of it was in cash too, so they could keep their earnings well under the radar. Alice wasn’t sure if she really envied them, but she envied their ability to go through college carefree. Old guys bought them fancy handbags and high heels and jewelry. Alice didn’t own any jewelry. She barely owned a ceramic bowl to cook her ramen noodles in.

Maybe I should change my name to Poverty McBrokeAssBitch, Alice thought to herself. 

No matter how she hustled, money wouldn’t stay in her account.

Many of the chicks she knew had Mercedes Benz cars, and nearly all of them wore designer clothes and had designer boob jobs or ass jobs. Once you got your ass done, you didn’t have to work a day in your life. Men would give you money just for having a big fat ass. Alice wanted to scream. Her natural homegrown booty was cute enough, but she couldn’t compare with silicon butts. There were the girls who made money from their tits and those who relied on their ass. But each one was financially stable. When you worked in that world, men gave you everything. But “natural” went out of style years ago.

Natural hadn’t been in style since the 80s. Alice hated the jackass who gave men the idea that women needed to have boob jobs and ass jobs to please them. Men with small dicks weren’t out here turning their wieners into ten-inch monster schlongs just to make women happy. Fuck ‘em. 

Those women never wanted for anything, and most of them had steady boyfriends too. Men didn’t seem to mind that they spent their weekends exposing their breasts and butts at clubs. Even if she was hesitant to enter that world, Alice was desperate for money and there was one friend from that world she could reach out to. Goldie was one of Alice’s closest friends, and she was one of the best paid strippers in her club. Alice never asked her too many questions, but she had a feeling that Goldie was netting close to six figures. Perhaps Goldie could help her? 

Goldie made fun of Alice too because she had “no ass” and didn’t strip. Goldie called her poor sometimes, but at least she bought dinner once in a while.

As the deadline to pay her tuition bill drew closer and closer, Alice felt desperate. This could be her ticket out. She wouldn’t enjoy shaking her ass in a club and having random men place dollar bills in her underwear, but she also wouldn’t enjoy going down the same dead-end path that her mother had. First it was bankruptcy, then it was dropping out of school… Alice didn’t want to let her imagination take her too far. The preview was grim enough.

Alice called Goldie. 

“Can we talk? I need to make money. Fast.”

Goldie laughed.

“Sell ass, girl!”

Alice cringed. She didn’t want to “sell ass”. She wanted money. She didn’t want to sell out. Goldie agreed to meet at the school’s burrito bar. Goldie arrived overdressed as usual. Goldie’s image was everything to her, and she always had her eye on the next trend in plastic surgery. She was five foot eight and had massive ass augmentations. Despite this, her butt still looked real and natural. 

Goldie had caramel skin and long black weave that hit in the middle of her back. She wore tight skinny light wash jeans, with the whale's tail of her black thong revealed. Goldie wore a see through white crop top with a cheetah print bra underneath. She contoured her face to perfection with massive fake eyelashes and overdrawn lips. Goldie didn’t look like a natural beauty, but men didn’t seem to care. They loved her looks. 

Goldie paid for their burritos and the two sat at a corner table. 

Goldie began talking, “So what do you want to know about stripping. I know that’s why your ass called me mid day instead of your usual ‘Let’s go take shots!’ that you text every Thursday.” 

Alice blushed a bit, not expecting her ploy to be so transparent. 

“I’m kind of strapped for cash I guess and I was wondering if I--” Alice started.

“Well, honey, no offense, but stripping is not for you. There are other ways you can make money without having to go through all the shit I put myself through,” Goldie said. 

Alice was silent, listening intently to the girl’s advice. 

“So, you’ve probably guessed that most of us don’t make all our money from stripping,” Goldie chuckled. 

She was wrong; Alice hadn’t guessed at all. She tried not to get too many details from Goldie’s sordid life.

“I didn’t know,” Alice muttered. 

Goldie laughed in disbelief. “Girl, do you see the shit that we buy? It’s expensive!” 

Goldie launched into an explanation. She explained that many of the girls had sex for money. She’d only done it once, but she’d made an easy $3,000 for just one night. Alice was shocked, and she was getting uneasy. This wasn’t the work she was looking for. Goldie explained that she had an online profile where she made money doing various naughty activities on camera. Alice squirmed in her seat as she listened to her. She wasn’t sure that she was quite that desperate for cash. Not yet, at least. She also explained that she had a profile where she would go out on dates with guys for a lot of money. Goldie went on dates with high-class clients who didn’t want other rich men to see them with ugly women. 

Often they bought her gifts — one of these gifts was  Goldie’s impressive ass augmentation. Goldie also mentioned that she’d had work done on her tummy and gotten free boob jobs for two of her friends. The guys were mostly nice, but some of them were real creeps. Alice tried to listen. When would this get to the part where she could do something for herself?

“But I think you could benefit from something else,” Goldie said after she’d explained a variety of techniques. 

“What would that be?”

She was a little titillated by what she’d heard, a little scared but keen to learn more.

“Sweetheart, you’re still a virgin, right?” Goldie asked her.

“Yes, I am,” Alice said, a little embarrassed. 

“Oh, thank God. I have the perfect idea for you,” Goldie said.

Goldie launched into another explanation. It was a website where girls could sell their virginity to older, wealthy men who had a penchant for youthful flesh. Well, one of these websites. This website sought specific black girls willing to risk impregnation by having the buyers take their virginity. A lot of white men had this fantasy and would pay big bucks to have it fulfilled. 

The arrangement was this: you put up a profile, they matched you with a buyer who took an interest in you. You could look at what he was offering and his net-worth, both of which the website vetted. Then, he could pay you for a date and see where things went from there. Often, the dates are at their homes, so Goldie promised that she would be the check-in person for Alice if she took her up on it. 

“I’ll help you make your profile. They love innocent looking girls like you,” Goldie said and then she laughed, “Girls like me look a bit too... used up to these guys.” 

“I don’t know if I can do this, Goldie.”

“You can! Listen… If you’re worried about a husband, you can always lie. Tell him you’re still a virgin. Guys love that shit. If you’re in a tough spot, I promise this will end all your problems. One night with a rich ass dude. You can slip a quaalude into his drink and rob his ass if he gets creepy.”

Alice shifted uneasily. This wasn’t who she was. She studied. She did odd jobs like babysitting and chauffeuring kids to soccer practice. Not sex. She didn’t sell sex. She didn’t look the part. She didn’t dress or act like Goldie. 

“But it’s sex with a stranger! I’m just not that kind of person,” Alice urged, trying to get Goldie to see her perspective.

Goldie kissed her teeth, “Listen, Alice… Life works against us. We grew up poor. Even in college, it’s just bills and more bills. I don’t know what demons you got, but if they’re anything like mine, you need to do whatever it takes to get ahead. Don’t let the demons win because you’re too much of a prude to do what you have to do. You don’t get a prize for saving your virginity.”

“How did you lose yours?” Alice asked.

“Stepdad. He got me a Sidekick so I wouldn’t tell my mama.”

Alice grimaced. 

Sex for money? Is that what she had to do? Alice pushed back tears. I’m not weak, she thought to herself. It’s one night. And who cares? It’s not like I’m saving my virginity for any special guy. Guys don’t want to date a broke bitch. Not normal guys. 

Alice pursed her lips. Goldie had a point sometimes, as much as she resented it. Still, Alice didn’t know if this was the thing she could do easily. She was humoring Goldie now — there was no stopping her once she put her mind to something — but Goldie didn’t exactly convince her that going through something like this could be worth the money.

Could you really put a price on self-worth?

* * *

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