He says he has this fantasy of whoring me out. I’ll admit that maybe, just maybe, I’ve got a little bit of a fantasy about it, too.

“How much would it cost?” I asked.

He smiled, “two hundred dollars.”

“Two hundred dollars?” I exclaimed. “That’s so inexpensive.”

The thing is that making it ridiculously cheap turns him on. He likes the degradation of it. On the other hand, I prefer to feel special and expensive and precious. 

“Fine, how much do you think it’s worth?” he asked. 

I huffed. “Four million.”

“Nobody pays a four million dollars for that, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “He’ll probably only take ten minutes once he gets his hands on you, anyway." 

"And what if he wants an hour?” I pouted.

He smirked. “Nah. Still two hundred.”