How I Came to be Managed

I was boring. Bored. Broke. Blasé even.

I complained loudly and often about it, as if I were special. I'm late on rent again. Why don't I just marry rich I would ask.as if rich people middle their genetics with broke people like me, even if they will use me for an hour or so at a time.

But it was becoming overwhelming. I had an office job in the 9th largest city in America by population, but I also had $130k of student debt because it took me 5 and a half years to complete.

So I was late for rent, again. This time a full $1,000.

I rented half of a duplex on the outskirts of the city. It was a nice location with a reasonable commute in my beat to hell civic. The other half was owned by the landlord. A smart, boring, recently divorced type. He gave off the impression of the quiet rich type. You know the type with lots of 0's in accounts they don't have use for except to let it grow and collect more coins like a fucked up game.

I'm not being fair to him really. He was nice to me. Easy with compliments the way harmless men with beer bellies are to 23 year olds when they are in their 50s. Flirty, but in a way that would work on network TV.

So I texted him, asking to wait until the middle of the month. I would have to get paid twice to make rent now that my student loans came out automatically now that they were put if deferment .

Hit text back was quick, "what would you do if your car broke down? A cute girl like you could always make $1,000 on the internet hese days."

I knew what he was suggesting immediately, and before I could type back a response, his thick hands knocked ony door.

I answered it how I had dressed for the day after work ended. Long brown hair tied back in a loose ponytail.y makeup had been washed off but my big blue eyes still demanded to be noticed. Everything else was small and cute about me fromy upturned nose to my small perky boobs to my tiny feet. I was wearing short daisy dukes that were loose with pockets that extended far beyond the hemline. My hip bones jutted out at the top and my tight stomach was bare from the top of the shirts past my naval, to loose crop top hanging from strings around my shoulders thinner than my bra.

I asked quickly, "what are you doing here?"

He answered quickly, "making you $1,000. Follow me."

Then he turned away and walked back to his half of the duplex, the door open. My feet were bare as I followed him past the little front patio we shared. Something about him felt different.

I entered into his house, and saw him enter the second bedroom he had. A laptop was open, but nothing was on the screen.

"Close the door" he commander, and I did as he asked, starting to get scared of what he might have planned for me.

"You dressed perfectly for this. Do you really not know how easy it is to make $1,000 looking the way you do?"

He leaned back in the only chair, leaving me to shift back and forth nervously on my bare feet, and he spread his legs as if offering me a seat between them.

My voice answered in a whisper, feeling the hot blush paint my cheeks pink, "y-you mean like Onlyfans?"

"That's too slow for you right now." He answered.

"Do you trust me? You can make it in an hour. I promise, this is absolutely sexual, but I won't fuck you. Noone will see your face, and I don't see any tattoos. I just need an hour. Agree?"

"No-no?" I answered.

"Then you're evicted. I sent in the paperwork last month. Be gone by the end of today."

I gasped. "What?" as he rolled his chair forward and handed me a folder with stamps and shit in it. It looked legit, but I didn't know?"

"Why?"

"Why not?" he quickly reported.

"An hour, or a lifetime struggling. Your choice."

He waited in the silence, his eyes wandering up and down my petite, thin frame.

"Wh-what does it involve?"

"A camshow. That's it. I already filled out the paperwork based on the rental agreement. I'll control it. Your face stays out of it, just just need to listen to me and do what I say."

I didn't know exactly what I was signing up for, but I felt my lips muttering. "O-okay"