Objection by Sawyer Bennett

Looking in the
mirror, I tug on the tight, red mini dress that I’m wearing.
It’s hugging my hips like a glove, and my breasts are
practically spilling out. The only good thing is that the color goes
wonderfully with my raven-colored hair and green eyes.
    “I look like a
slut,” I complain to Macy.
    She comes to stand
behind me, perusing my appearance. “Exactly! That’s just
what I was going for.”
    Turning to her with
pleading eyes, I say, “I can’t go through with this. I
was drunk when I agreed to it.”
    Macy’s blue
eyes alight with mischief as she takes me by the shoulders, turning
me back around to the mirror. She looks at me in the reflection. “Yet
you agreed all the same, McKayla, and you only have five minutes left
before you have to leave to meet your date. Now, go put on that sexy
red lipstick to match your dress.”
    Date.
    Funny word for what
this is.
    Two weeks ago, in a
moment of drunken despair over losing my boyfriend of three years,
Macy talked me into trying this exclusive and discreet service that
she was a member of. It was called One Night Only , and it
catered to the rich and sexually depraved of New York’s finest.
Macy had been a proud member for the past two years and swore by it.
    But then again, Macy
is... well, Macy. She is my dearest friend in the world, my roommate
for the past six years, and perhaps the weirdest, most ostentatious,
and most deviant socialite that New York has ever seen. She graduated
from Columbia with me, earning a political science degree that she
had no intention of ever using. While I went on to schlep my way
through Columbia’s law school program over the next three
years, Macy was on the hunt for the future Mr. Macy Carrington.
    That’s right…
she expects her husband to take her name and refer to himself that
way. Her qualifications are clear. He has to be equally as rich as
her, wouldn’t mind her taking the occasional lover, and would
need to treat her like the queen she believes herself to be.
    Until that time, she
is happy spending her nights partying and getting her rocks off—her
words, not mine—through One Night Only .
    Back to that.
    It’s a service
that is highly secretive, but in major demand. It caters to those
people that are looking for one-night stands with a partner who is
matched to their specifications and guaranteed disease free. Macy
pays an exorbitant amount of her inheritance each month for club
benefits, which usually means she’s going on a different “date”
at least four times a week.
    That puts her square
in the category of skankerific, but I still love her more than I love
the air I breathe. Macy and I have been together through thick and
thin, ups and downs, love and betrayal. She’s stood by me when
no one else would, and I give her the love and acceptance she’s
never had from her emotionally cold, but uber wealthy parents.
    Macy has her
quirks—her deviant behavior, for one—but there has never
been a more loyal person to me in the world. Besides that, she’s
let me live in her Manhattan penthouse apartment dirt cheap for the
last six years because I was a poor and impoverished undergrad, and
now I’m a poor and impoverished attorney. I graduated from law
school a year ago with a crappy job that keeps me busy eighty hours a
week and a $120,000 in law school loans that will take me until I am
seventy to pay off.
    Taking the lipstick
from my makeup drawer, I coat my lips with the Hooker Red stain and
brush some gloss over them. Even though I’m having major second
thoughts about what I’m getting ready to do, there’s also
a part of me—deep down—that is thrilled to be doing
something so far out of my comfort zone…
    Having a
one-night stand.
    I wouldn’t be
in this position had my boyfriend, Pete—aka the Douche—not
ripped my heart out six months ago. Over what was, I thought, a
romantic dinner that would result in a marriage proposal, he ended up
telling me that he wanted to break up. Something