Chapter 1 - The Arrangement

CHAPTER 1: THE ARRANGEMENT

I bite my nails as I shift on my feet outside Onkgopotse's bedroom door, trying to work up the courage to let him know that I can't pay my full share of rent again. Just as I'm about to knock, there's a muffled grunt behind the door, and I chicken out.

Retreating to the bathroom, I lean against the counter and face the mirror. "You can do this, Sindisiwe," I say to myself, sighing at the dark smudges under my red-rimmed brown eyes. I'm so tired of the stress and worrying about Onkgopotse's reaction. "Just put on your big-girl panties, knock on his door, and ask him to cover the difference. The worst he can do is say no, and then you'll figure something else out."

I'm lying to myself. Saying no isn't the worst thing my roommate, Onkgopotse, can do. This is his flat, and he'd have every right to kick me out, seeing as I'm short for the third time out of the five months I've been renting his second bedroom.

After my pep talk and a few more minutes of destroying my nails while I try to calm my nerves, I stand up straight, tuck my Havana twists back behind my ears, and smooth out the wrinkles of my blue short-sleeve button-up uniform top before exiting the bathroom. I was counting on the tips I would make this weekend so I'd have more than the measly R1,250 to give to Onkgopotse, but the owner of the restaurant where I work called to tell me not to come in until Monday. Friday and Saturday are my best nights, and since I haven't had any callbacks from the other restaurants I've applied to, I'm screwed unless Onkgopotse takes pity on me again.

"Do it. Just knock on his door," I mumble under my breath as I hover with my fist raised in the air. I drop my arm, losing my nerve again, and whisper-shout, "Fuck!"

Apparently not quiet enough, because Onkgopotse whips open the door, a pained expression plastered on his brutally handsome face as he stares at the space above my head with his hands fisted at his sides. He's almost preternaturally beautiful, with his thick, black hair and carved jaw, and just as I did the first time we met, I go speechless. There's something eerily familiar about him, but I've never been able to put my finger on it.

My jaw hangs slack as I take in his arresting dark eyes that I think I could get lost in if we ever made eye contact — which we don't. He never looks at me. Not any part of me. I might as well be a ghost, and I don't understand why, since he never has a problem making eye contact with anyone else who comes to the flat.

Onkgopotse knows exactly why I'm here, and his disappointment in me is rolling off him in waves, making my stomach bottom out. If I had a parent, I imagine this is what it would feel like to present them with yet another failing report card for them to sign. Small. I feel so small. A complete and utter failure at being a responsible adult, and I can't take it. Not again.

I make a high-pitched squeak like a mouse and dart to the side, crossing the expansive living room with its beautiful exposed-brick walls toward my bedroom, deciding I'd rather disappear off the face of the planet than beg him to cover my share of rent again.

I don't make it past the brown leather couch before Onkgopotse catches up to me, cups my elbow, and spins me around. We've never shared so much as a handshake before, and I gape at him in surprise as my arm tingles from the heat of his large, masculine hand on my bare skin.

"You're going to be short again, aren't you?" he asks with a strained voice, darting his eyes to the calendar taped to the kitchen wall on my right, counting down the days until the end of the month.

I have just three days to come up with the remaining R5,500 I owe. It's so unattainable that it might as well be fifty grand. I shake my head, my mouth going dry when he raises a dark brow in challenge and clenches his strong, square jaw. This is it. He's finally going to kick me out, and then where will I go?

He steps into my personal space, towering over me as I shrink under his glare — on my forehead. "Don't lie to me, Sindisiwe. How much is it this time?" His face softens when I can't stop my chin from quivering, trying to hold back the tears that have been plaguing me since I got off the phone with my boss. Onkgopotse rubs small circles over my arm with his thumb. "Tell me."

I drop my gaze to his tight maroon t-shirt when I answer with mounting dread, "Five-and-a-half thousand. But I can pay you back when I get my next cheque." I hurry to correct myself, "Um, maybe not the next one, but definitely the one after that, I promise." I clench my eyes shut when he sighs heavily and draws back to his full height. He has to be at least one-metre-ninety-six, considering he stands a head taller than me at one-metre-seventy-three.

"That's even more than last month, and you only just paid me back for it with your last cheque."

I cringe and try to pull my elbow out of his grip to inch backward, humiliated even more than the previous two times I had this conversation with him. I wish he would let me go so I can bury my face in my pillow and cry in the privacy of my room.

"I know, I'm really sorry. Braam cut back more of my shifts. I promise I'm doing everything I can to find a new job." My voice gets quieter and quieter until I'm barely whispering. "I just need a little help in the meantime," I say, though he's heard it all before.

"A little? Covering for you a third time is more than 'a little help'." His grip tightens on my elbow when I try harder to pull away, practically drowning in shame.

I screw up my courage to finally look up again. My lip trembles as a tear slips down my cheek. "Please, Onkgopotse. This is the last time. Just one more month, and then I'll never ask you again."

He looks like he's considering it, his eyes moving back and forth between my forehead and his hand on my arm, and more tears roll down my cheeks. I've never had to beg for so much help, and I hate it.

I've been babysitting or waitressing since I was fourteen years old and have always found a way to scrape together what I needed to take care of myself — every time I ran away from a foster home or a children's home, scrounging up the fare to shower at the cheap gym in town, living on the streets if need be — before ultimately getting caught and dumped at the next shitty home.

As much as I despise the idea, I have thought about running away — packing up and ditching Onkgopotse — too ashamed to give him a heads-up with such short notice. But I shudder at the thought of going back to sleeping with one eye open whenever or wherever I can find a place safe enough to do so for a couple of hours. I've also just paid for my second semester at the TVET college I attend, a mere fifteen-minute walk from this wonderful flat. I don't want to give up such a short, walkable commute since I don't own a car.

I was incredibly lucky that Onkgopotse took a chance on me when I showed up with just a backpack and the clothes I had on — the only things I had to my name — when I responded to his ad for a roommate pinned to the community board at the coffee shop I used to work at, before it closed, near campus. I had a dodgy work history since I was constantly bouncing around from home to street to home, and I didn't have anyone to give me a good reference, not when I had to quit so often without notice. Yet he let me move into his spare room the same day, since his last roommate had already graduated and moved out the week before.

Not knowing if anyone will ever take that kind of chance on me again, I have to try one more time, even if it kills a small part of me to continue begging. I cross my fingers and toes in my black knock-off takkies that he won't kick me out yet.

"Please, Onkgopotse. I don't have any other options, and I don't want to leave." I sway, and he shifts his grip to my upper arm, steadying me. In doing so, the back of his hand brushes against the side of my breast. I'm acutely aware of it, but I don't know if he is until he shudders and slides his hand back down to my elbow. He rubs his thumb back and forth over the sensitive ditch, causing goosebumps to spring to the surface.

"One thousand," he bites out, then closes his eyes and tips his head back, clenching his jaw so hard that the muscles in his cheeks ripple, clearly upset with himself for giving in. It's well short of the five-and-a-half I need, but at least it's more than zero. I'll have to make it work.

"OK, thank you. I'll, um, I'll figure out how to get you the rest," I say through a lump in my throat as my mind whirs to think of what I can do to come up with the remaining four-and-a-half.

"I'll give you a thousand, but"— he stresses the word —"you have to do something for me." His nostrils flare, and his chest rises and falls faster as his breathing accelerates. Then he swallows up the rest of my personal space, and I'm momentarily distracted by his ocean-breeze scent that teases my senses. Has he been using my body wash?

"I'll do it!" I blurt without thinking it through first. "What do you need? Someone to do your laundry? Or clean your room or car? I can do that," I say as some of the tension in my neck and shoulders eases.

He drops his chin to his chest and shakes his head slowly, making his dark hair shift with the movement. "I don't want any of that," he says, visibly trembling all of a sudden.

My brows dip, and I frown. "Then what do you want?"

He takes a huge breath and steps forward, forcing me back until my thighs press against the arm of the couch behind me. My chest tightens, and my belly dips at the hungry look on his face as soon as we make eye contact for the very first time.

"O-Onkgopotse…" I push my hand against his firm chest, trying to create some breathing room between us. He may as well be an immovable thousand-kilo statue for all the good it does.

"A thousand rand for you to bend over the couch and pull your pants and panties down."

My heart pounds wildly against my ribs. "A thousand rand to… I-I can't. I'm not going to… to have sex… with you?" It comes out as a question, because even as my stomach churns at the idea of having sex with Onkgopotse for money, my desperation to continue sleeping safely in a warm bed has my mind racing, unbelievably considering his lewd offer.

Under any other circumstances, I would jump at the chance to fall into bed with him, but this is too much. Too impersonal. There would be nothing romantic about it, not like I've always dreamed my first time would be, and I think it would kill a piece of my soul.

There's a soft, pleading tone to his deep voice, almost like we've switched places and he's the one begging now. "I won't touch you. I just want you to bend over and show me your pussy. You don't have to do anything else." Instead of kneeing Onkgopotse in the balls or slapping him like I should, I hesitantly ask, "That's it? No touching, just… showing?"

"That's it, Sindisiwe. That's all you have to do, and I'll cover a thousand of what you owe."

To our mutual surprise, I make the decision that will help keep a roof over my head for another month. "O-OK. I'll… I'll do it."

Onkgopotse's knees buckle slightly, and he finally drops my elbow, nearly tripping over his feet to flip the overhead lights on in the kitchen and living room, since the sun is setting outside.

Before I lose my resolve, I turn around, giving him my back when he rejoins me. My hands shake so violently that it takes me a few tries to lift the hem of my top, unbutton my black work jeans, and pull my zip down. I can hardly breathe through my panicky thoughts at what I'm about to do when I hook my fingers in the waistband of my pants and panties and push them down to the tops of my thighs, then lean forward to brace my hands on the cold arm of the couch.

Onkgopotse's voice is breathy when he says, "Lower. Push them down to your ankles and bend over all the way with your elbows on the cushion."

"Yebo baba," I whisper, and do what I'm told. For a thousand rand, I can just lie here and let him look at me… down there. I won't be able to face him again after today, but I can do this, just this once.

"Oh baby, there you go. Scoot your feet apart," he says in a near-whisper, and it's then I realise I have my trembling thighs clamped tight together. I drop my belly onto the arm of the couch as I inch my feet outward. "Wider. Keep going." I follow his command until the band on my jeans can't stretch any further. "Good girl," he rumbles with a huskiness that makes me want to slam my thighs closed again.

A shiver skates down my spine, and the goosebumps peppering my arms spread across my entire body at being called a good girl. No one's ever said that to me before, and my lower belly flutters at hearing it now, even as I have the urgent impulse to tell him that I've changed my mind, pull my jeans up, and race out of the flat with only the clothes on my back.

It's only the threat of sleeping on the pavement or a park bench that has me dropping my forehead onto the couch cushion while Onkgopotse looks at my exposed private parts. I can do this. Just pretend I'm taking an uncomfortable nap. Then it'll all be over, and I'll be a thousand rand closer to covering rent this month. I'm stuck in my head trying to figure out exactly how I can earn the rest of the cash when I hear the metallic clank of Onkgopotse unbuckling his belt and the sound of his zip being pulled down. I rear up, fear turning my muscles into jelly, and shout over my shoulder, "I told you I'm not going to have sex with you!"

There's a desperate edge to his voice when Onkgopotse croaks out, "And I told you I wouldn't touch you. Please, baby… If you want your thousand, you'll bend back over and stay there until I'm done."

"Done with what?"

He doesn't answer me, and I war with myself over what to do, wondering if I can trust that he's telling me the truth or if I should cut my losses and run. When I remember just how miserable my old life used to be, I slowly lower myself back down and drop my head again, imagining myself snuggling up in my warm, cosy bed after this.

Over the sound of my blood pounding in my head, I hear Onkgopotse moan, followed by frantically fast, wet slapping noises, so I can only assume he's masturbating. My knuckles go white as I try to dig my fingers into the cushion, willing myself not to bolt, and only start to relax when he keeps his word and doesn't touch me.

"Five hundred," Onkgopotse grunts. "I'll give you another five hundred if you spread your ass cheeks and pussy lips. Let me see inside you."

Again, I silently debate whether a warm bed is worth it or not. It is. I don't know where I get the guts to do so when I tell him, "A thousand. If you want to see… in-inside m-me… then I'll do it for another thousand." Onkgopotse whines but doesn't answer, so I reach behind me and palm my butt cheeks, barely parting them to tease him.

He moans and says, "Oh fuck, baby. OK. A thousand if you pull them all the way apart and tilt your hips up even more."

It's a strange victory, negotiating for more money like this and winning. If I do what he wants, I'll have two thousand. I hook my pinkies over my lower lips, spread them and my cheeks, and readjust my hips against the couch until I'm bent at a sharper angle.

Onkgopotse gasps. "Sindisiwe, baby, oh God. There you go. Such a good girl, showing me your pretty pussy. Fuck!"

The obscene, wet slapping noises start coming faster while his moans grow louder between heaving for air like he's running a race instead of just masturbating. His dirty words send a shockwave through me that I don't understand, and I'm breathing as hard as he is, even though I don't move so much as a muscle.

Onkgopotse lets loose a pained grunt as something crashes to the wooden floor. I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel what must be his hot breath on the backs of my thighs. I scream and try to lunge forward, but there's nowhere to go.

"No! Don't move. Stay just like that, baby," Onkgopotse begs in a booming voice, surprisingly, without touching me.

I freeze in place, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I don't dare twist around to see him because I don't need to. That heavy thump on the floor was him falling to his knees behind me. I whimper when his raspy breaths fan over my skin, so close to my intimate regions.

"Another thousand to let me lick it. Please, please, I need to taste you."

"But you said… you said no touching! I-I—"

"Fifteen hundred."

Oh God. Oh God, oh God. That's three-and-a-half thousand total if I let Onkgopotse lick me. I can do that, can't I? It's not sex, not really, right? Right?

"O-OK."

Onkgopotse drops his forehead against my thigh. "Thank you, oh God, thank you." I jolt at the first swipe of his tongue through my slit and cry out when he gently nips the edge of one of my lower lips. "Fuck, baby. You taste so good, so sweet. Tilt your hips more."

I don't think, I just do, going up on my tiptoes. The position is severely uncomfortable, with my hands still gripping my cheeks behind me and the side of my face flat against the cushion, but I can tolerate it for a little longer for three-and-a-half thousand.

An unexpected moan escapes me that matches the one he lets loose when he thrusts his hot, wet tongue through the entrance of my pussy. It's thicker than the super tampons I use, and though it feels so strange to have something wiggling and thrusting in and out of me, coupled with his warm exhales, it also feels kind of… good. I moan again when he curls his tongue, and my toes curl right along with it.

"Sindisiwe, baby, you're fucking delicious." Onkgopotse buries his whole face between my thighs to thrust his tongue deeper, his nose pressing against a place a nose most definitely should not go. Then there's a slurping sound when he pulls his tongue out and licks me up and down, gathering the wetness I can feel dripping out of me.

I yelp when his hands suddenly make contact with my skin, ending the wet slapping noises. He palms my inner thighs, spreading them further and delving his tongue down to flick it against my clit.

"You said no touching!" I repeat with a yell, as if he hadn't already branded me with his tongue.

"I have to! I have to, sweet girl." He tightens his grip, digging his fingertips into my sensitive flesh as he alternates rolling his tongue over my clit and thrusting it inside me.

Completely against my will, I rock my hips back and forth, humping Onkgopotse's face, taking his tongue deeper, then pulling away. One of his hands leaves me, and he presses the pad of his finger firmly against my clit, rolling it around and around.

"Oh God, that feels— Onkgopotse!" My legs shake uncontrollably when the tingling that started in my clit builds and twists in my belly. My inner muscles clench around his undulating tongue, and warmth blooms in my core, travelling up my spine and making my eyes roll back in my head.

"I can't believe it. Your pussy is dripping wet. You're so unbelievably sexy. I want you to cum on my tongue."

"I… I… what? That's not—" I'm shocked by the primal noises I make as he attacks my pussy and increases the pressure on my clit, massaging it expertly. The pitch of my moans climbs higher, and the rest of the tension in my body breaks. Indescribable pleasure sweeps through me, and my inner muscles ripple in waves. "Onkgopotse! Oh God," I moan long and low as exquisite heat gushes out of me, trickling down my thighs.

"Oh fuck, baby. I knew you'd be a squirter — more proof you were made for me." He licks long lines up and down my thighs, then suctions his lips around my pussy until it's all gone. "I need you," Onkgopotse says with a hoarse voice as he jumps to his feet and taps what must be his bare penis against my slit that I'm still holding open. He readjusts and presses the wet tip of it against my entrance. "Two thousand to let me stick it in. Please, baby, I need to get my cock inside your gorgeous wet cunt."