The Beauty in My Bed

Author: Jordan Cross

Chapter 1: Surrogacy

Words : 1775 Updated : Sep 18th, 2025

That summer, through John's introduction, I met Leslie. Leslie's boyfriend was a rich kid from a wealthy family with two brothers. The family had an unspoken competition: whoever had the first grandson would end up with a bigger stake in the company. Then John reached out and said that if I could get Leslie pregnant, they'd pay me $80,000. I swallowed hard. No car, no apartment-marriage felt impossible. I didn't hesitate. I said yes right away. I figured a trust-fund kid's girlfriend would be easy on the eyes. When we finally met, she blew me away. Leslie was stunning-fine-boned, tall, and graceful. Any guy would let his imagination run wild. But Leslie looked at me with open disgust. Her boyfriend, on the other hand, was friendly enough. He briefly explained the situation and left the house. The gist was that work and medical issues had compromised his fertility, and he'd be staying at the office for a few days. He wouldn't be around to get in the way. Hearing that, I felt a pang of embarrassment. He sure cleared out fast. After he left, I wasn't sure if we were just supposed to, well… get on with it. Faced with such an icy beauty, I was rattled. I swallowed and asked, "So... what do we do now?" "What do we do? Get out. Go back to wherever you came from." Leslie shot me a look of pure contempt and headed for the bedroom. Watching her walk away, I shrank inside. A full-grown man reduced to this-impregnating someone on another man's behalf. No wonder she despised me. Once she was gone, I texted John: Leslie isn't cooperating. He fired back: Rich women put on an aloof front, but when loneliness hits, they're wilder than anyone. Get it done. Do you want the money or not? His text steeled me. I told myself Leslie must have agreed to this; she was just putting on a show. With that in mind, I crept up to the second floor. I was trying to figure out which room was hers when I heard faint, intermittent moans coming from a nearby room-the kind of sounds that made it pretty clear what was happening inside. My ears perked up. I drifted toward the door. The house felt cavernous, just the two of us inside. Thinking about that $80,000, I put my hand on the knob and turned it slowly. It was unlocked. I eased it open a crack and saw Leslie bent over a desk, a pink vibrator in her hand as she worked it against herself, so turned on she couldn't help herself. On the desk, a laptop was playing a porn video-a threesome. I hadn't expected her to be into something that kinky. I froze. John had been right: rich women might seem aloof on the surface, but behind closed doors, loneliness could make them reckless. Just then, Leslie started to let out soft, breathy sounds, like she was about to come. From where I stood, I could see the curve of her body under a sheer dress, one hand working the pink vibrator, the other pressed under her skirt. The sight set my blood simmering. I kept wavering on whether to barge in. Truth was, I'd never been with a woman. I was shy by nature. That was part of why I'd been chosen; Leslie and her boyfriend had asked for someone introverted, healthy, with no sketchy sexual history. She seemed adrift, eyes shut, lashes fluttering in rhythm, a soft whimper escaping every so often. I straightened, ready to step inside. I pushed the door a little wider and started to slip through the gap when my phone buzzed. Luckily, it was on vibrate, and Leslie-lost in the laptop and herself-didn't notice me. I glanced at the screen. An unknown number had texted: I put a bit of aphrodisiac in her water before I left. Get it done. The message was signed: Sergio Willis. John had said Leslie's boyfriend was a Mr. Willis. So his real name was Sergio Willis. In a flash, I realized why Leslie's desire had spiked out of nowhere, why she was desperate to get herself off in broad daylight. Sergio had drugged her. I felt a surge of contempt. Drugging your own girlfriend-takes a man with no scruples. Even so, I wanted to help her. With an aphrodisiac in her system, that pink vibrator wasn't going to do the trick. And the sooner I did my job, the sooner I'd get that $80,000. I pushed the door open and walked in. Leslie was right in the middle of it. When she sensed someone, she jerked up from the desk on instinct. Her hand was still working the pink vibrator under her skirt, her face flushed bright red. She stared at me and gasped, "What are you doing here? Get out. Get out." Shy as I was, I wasn't stupid. She didn't want to be with me. "Mr. Willis sent me," I said. "Look, things have come to this. Maybe we should just go through with it. Leslie, even if you throw me out, Mr. Willis will find someone else. At least I can promise I have no weird habits. I'm still a virgin. I'm clean." I kept my voice low and started moving toward her. She faltered. The drug seemed strong. While she hesitated, her legs pressed together, her whole body trembling as if she might collapse any second. When she didn't resist, I crossed the room in two strides and wrapped my arms around her. She flinched, but she didn't push me away. My heart leaped. Without thinking, I lifted her skirt and covered her hand with mine. "Let me help you," I blurted out. Her hand had already been between her legs. When I took hold, the back of my hand brushed her there. We both paused for a beat, heat rising through fabric and skin, and my breath caught.

The Beauty in My Bed

Chapter 1: Surrogacy

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