The hum of the refrigerator had been my constant companion, a dull drone that faded into the background of my busy life. Until it didn’t. The silence was deafening, and with the spawns rapidly depleting stash of yogurts and juice boxes, I was in a bind. Money was tighter than usual, and the repairman’s quote had made my stomach drop faster than a bad online date.

I stared at my reflection in the darkened glass of the oven door. My hair, usually a cascade of golden waves, was pulled back in a messy bun. But my eyes, the same shade as the honey I drizzled on my littles toast, held a spark, a flicker of desperation, maybe a little excitement. It wasn’t the first time I had to be resourceful. I smoothed down the simple tank top I wore, the fabric doing little to hide the way my breasts rose and fell with each breath. My jeans, hugged my curves, reminding me of the assets I did possess.

The bell rang, and I took a deep breath, my heart racing. He was young, maybe a few years older than me, and his eyes lingered a moment too long as he stepped inside. “So,” I said, my voice a little breathy, “It’s the fridge, as you can see.” I gestured to the silent beast of an appliance. He nodded, his gaze drifting down to my chest and then back up, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Well, I know I can’t pay you in money,” I started, letting the words hang in the air, hoping he would catch the drift. I walked toward him, my hips swaying with deliberate intention. “But I can be…very persuasive.” I reached out, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. His eyes went dark, and the air between us crackled with a silent kind of understanding. He took my hand, his fingers interlacing with mine. The refrigerator, the screaming, the empty yogurt cups – all were forgotten as he pulled me with him to the back room. Not even shutting the door behind us. Down on my knees, I would suck until my refrigerator was paid for in full.