Down The Rabbit Hole

Clara wandered the room, phone to her ear, telling Lacey about prom and that acceptance letter. She sighed when the subject turned to money. “Business school’s expensive,” she muttered. Lacey teased that she could just sell her cherry. Clara snorted, played it off, hung up. Alone, the joke kept echoing. She eyed her own body, cupped one breast, ran her palm down to her navel, and shivered. “Stop it,” she whispered, but a minute later she was online asking strangers for ideas. Most laughed. One sent a link. She hovered, bit her lip, clicked. Screens lit her face for hours. A text came. She called. A voice answered. She arrived at a grungy building, stepped inside, and the place looked like a dungeon. Max circled her slowly, eyes crawling over her tits, her waist. She told him she wanted cash for her first time. He grunted, annoyed, then leaned in, interested. She didn’t flinch. They struck the deal. She’d gone all the way down the hole.