Atticus struggled to find something acceptable to wear to the upscale restaurant. He was forced to resort to Walmart, which ended up somehow less helpful than his closet. Therefore, Atticus showed up for lunch in the same cheap slacks and worn-out button up he wore the previous day. He simply hoped Mr. Blackwood was not an observant man.
He stepped into the dining establishment and immediately felt out of place. The Falcon was, after all, a five-star restaurant on the most expensive side of town.
"What can I do for you today, sir?" cheered the hostess.
Atticus hesitated, uncertain of what to do. He hadn't thought ahead this far. "Um..." He quickly checked the time on his phone. Three minutes early. "Is there a table for Blackwood?"
"Of course. He was seated a few minutes ago. If you will follow me, please?"
Atticus nodded and followed the woman blindly. She led him between tables topped with elegant clothes and candles that had not been lit yet. As it was still early in the day, there were only a few small groups scattered about. Alexander was seated in the most isolated corner, facing the open room. He did not rise to meet Atticus when he approached.
"Thank you for meeting with me, sir."
Alexander nodded. "Sit. We will order first and then we will discuss."
Atticus glanced at the menu, nearly choking on his own saliva when he saw the price of one of the dishes. Sixty-three dollars. He skimmed some other prices; his head felt light. Fifty-seven. Seventy-two. Eighty. The least expensive entree price he could find was still forty-nine dollars.
The waiter came. Alexander ordered some cut of steak Atticus hadn't heard of before and a bottle of wine. Atticus decided on a small side salad and water.
Once the waiter left, the boy pulled out some pieces of paper folded in half. "I brought my paystubs for the last month to prove I can pay you back..."
Mr. Blackwood took them silently and glanced at them. "Your highest wage is ten dollars and seventy-five cents?" He looked to Atticus for confirmation, and he nodded. "Right now it looks like you are working usually just under one hundred forty hours in total per two week pay period. You must be exhausted."
"...I am, sir."
The man pulls a notepad from the briefcase. "Your interest rate will be fifteen percent, compounded continuously. I recommend weekly payments in your financial situation. What would be a preferable time period for you to pay back your loan?"
"Well, as soon as possible."
"I ran some numbers this morning. To payback in five years, your weekly payment would be $1,368.74. Doing some quick math," he pulled out his phone and typed some numbers, "you would need to work over eighteen hours a day, seven days a week, at your highest pay rate, to make enough before taxes."
The man continued speaking as Atticus stared, dumbfounded.
"Make it a ten-year repayment, and your weekly payment is down to $929.62 which would require..." he typed more numbers in, "...just over twelve hours per day, again, before taxes. A twenty-year repayment would bring your weekly payment down to $760.03... then you would be at your average work hours now, again not including tax deductions. Of course, by that point, you would be paying over triple what you borrowed. Expanding the payment to fifty years would only bring your weekly payment down about forty dollars." Mr. Blackwood paused, looking at Atticus. "Now do you understand what you're getting yourself into?"
Atticus's mouth was very dry, and he was starting to feel sick. He glanced behind him. He could really use his glass of water now... Not being able to find any words, he nodded.
"In addition, for each day a payment is late there will be a fee of one hundred dollars added to your total."
"Is there any way I could get a lower interest rate?"
"No. Fifteen percent is the standard rate I use for all loans. Why else would only the truly desperate come to me?"
The waiter arrived with the drinks, Mr. Blackwood's entree, and the salad.
Atticus let out a shaky breath once the waiter left. "I guess I'll go with the plan for twenty years."
Mr. Blackwood nodded, setting the notepad to the side. "Tell me about yourself, Atticus."
"What could you possibly need to know?"
The man sent him a shallow glare. "I can still deny you the loan, boy. It is in your interest to play nicely."
He sighed, "What do you want to know?"
"Do you have any siblings?"
"A brother and a sister. They're younger than I am."
"How old are they?"
"Fifteen and four."
"Did you graduate high school?"
Atticus nodded. "All A's and B's too. I should be enrolled in college by now, but..." he exhaled deeply, "instead I'm working my ass off and basically selling my soul to you for the next two decades."
"What subjects did you enjoy?"
"I liked pretty much anything relating to science or math. The social studies bored the shit out of me."
Alexander took a bite of his steak, and Atticus took it as a cue to begin eating his salad. Now that he saw the size of the salad, he wished he would have ordered something a tad more expensive.
"What do you like to do?"
"I have an old Xbox from my childhood I play every now and then. I don't have a lot of time that I'm not sleeping or working anymore."
"Do you enjoy your jobs at least?"
"Uh, not really. I like most of the people I work with most of the time, but I don't like the actual work usually."
Alexander continued questioning Atticus about random aspects of his life until they both finished eating. The man had Atticus write down all of his contact information as well as some banking information.
"Atticus, I have enjoyed your company, so I am prepared to offer you an alternative option to your loan."
He hadn't thought there was another way other than the man showing him kindness -- and he didn't believe Mr. Blackwood had a single ounce of kindness in his body. He suddenly could no longer keep his hands still, and he hid them on his lap as they fiddled and drummed. He tried to sure up his voice; he failed miserably. "..What is it?"
"I am offering you a position as my," he paused, trying to find the right word, "personal assistant."
"What would be required of me?"
"You would live with me and do anything I want when I want it done. You would eat what I tell you and sleep when I tell you. Any time off would be decided by me and arranged around my schedule. I would provide you with a list of rules to obey and any misbehavior would result in a consequence."
The boy's face lost all color. "Do you mean anything?"
"Naturally each person has limits to what they can handle and what they cannot. All of that would be discussed once you have accepted the offer and taken into consideration. If you are implying what I believe you are, then yes. It would include sexual acts quite often. You do need to understand that, if you agree, the only choices for the next few years you will make will be the ones I allow you to make."
"So when you said 'personal assistant" you really meant 'sex slave.'"
He grinned. "I prefer the term 'submissive.'"
Mr. Blackwood was rather attractive, and he didn't look that much older, Atticus thought. However, Atticus had never done anything with another man, and he definitely didn't want his first time to be mandated as part of a job. The boy began to stand. "Thanks, but I think I'll stay with the loan."
"Ah, so I see paying back the money 'as soon as possible' no longer interests you. Well, that is your choice."
Atticus froze half-standing. "Why? How long would it take?"
"Two years."
He returned to his seat. "When-when do I need to make the choice by?"
"You will have forty-eight hours following the conclusion today to inform me of your decision."
"Can I at least ask you some questions to get to know you before I accept?"
"I will allow you five questions on any topic."
Atticus wanted to pout. The man asked him dozens of questions. "Can I google some things quick so I don't waste my questions on stupid things?"
"You may not. You have four questions remaining."
"That's so not fucking fair!"
A trace of a smile glimpsed his lips, but he was silent.
"Ugh, fine." He could google those things later. "What do you do when no one else is around?"
"I write music."
"Really?! What -- never mind." Atticus caught himself before he could waste another question. "Um, how-how many sexual partners have you had?"
"I have had sexual contact with twenty-three individuals; however, I only considered seventeen of them as my partner at some time or another. Though I can assure you I am free of any sexually transmitted diseases or infections."
Atticus blushed. Twenty-three individuals. He had only two girlfriends in his life, and one of them was only comfortable fooling around, so he had sex with just one person. Up until now, he didn't think anything of it as plenty of people were older than he and still virgins. However, compared to twenty-three, he felt inferior. Of course, the chance that his number would go to two and Mr. Blackwood's would become twenty-four increased more every minute he spent with the man.
His voice lowered to just above a whisper, "How many of them were in my situation?"
"None. You will be the first, if you accept, of course."
Atticus's head shot up to look at him. "Really?"
"Yes, really."
"Fuck," the boy leaned back in his chair. "Tell me that didn't count as my last question."
Mr. Blackwood smirked. "I said only five questions, and I am a man of my word."
"Ugh, fine. Um, even if I do accept, I'll need to put my two weeks in for my jobs."
The man shook his head. "That will not be necessary. I will inform your bosses your employment should be terminated immediately."
"Oh, okay. When will this... arrangement begin if I agree?"
"It will begin immediately after you make your decision. Regardless of your choice, the money will be wired to your account within three hours. If you decline, your first payment will be due on the following Wednesday."
A thought occurred to Atticus that panicked him. What about his brother and sister? "Will I be able to see my siblings?"
"You will be allowed to see them, though I cannot guarantee for how long or how often." Mr. Blackwood caught the attention of the waiter, who brought over the check. He slid his credit card into the black leather folder without even glancing at the total.
The idea of not being able to see his siblings for weeks at a time made Atticus's stomach turn. However, he wouldn't see much of them anyway if he had to work over twelve hours every day.
"Do you have any other questions regarding the arrangement?"
"What kind of, um, consequences would there be if I don't do what you say?"
"It would depend on the nature of the offense and what is determined to be the most effective punishment. Usually, it would be a spanking or having a privilege revoked"
"O-Oh..." Atticus swallowed hard.
Alexander's credit card was finally returned, and he stood. "I must return to the office. If you decide to accept my offer, come to my office within the next forty-eight hours."
Alexander turned and left before Atticus could get out a response. The boy slumped in his chair. His watch read 3:17 pm. He knew he should be heading home soon, but there was so much new information to process... and such an important decision to make... All Atticus wanted to do at that moment was curl up on something soft and take a nice long nap.