FILTHY DREAMS

In a world where good intentions collide with the darkest temptations, Sarah, Kamila, and Laury plunges us into the lives of three young women caught in a whirlwind of forbidden desires and impossible choices. Among them, Sarah shines as the heart of this story: a girl with a noble soul, defined by loyalty and sacrifice. Her life takes an unexpected turn when her younger sister, Kamila, falls gravely ill, requiring a kidney transplant that their family cannot afford. Desperate to save the person she loves most, Sarah finds herself at a moral crossroads, agreeing to an indecent proposal from a stranger in an elevator—an act that sets off a chain of events as sensual as they are dangerous.

Sarah, the protagonist and quiet heroine, is not merely a victim of circumstance but a determined force defying fate. Her struggle to raise the money for Kamila’s treatment pushes her to explore the shadowy depths of her own soul, confronting situations that test her goodness and resilience. Joined by Kamila, whose fragility contrasts with her unbreakable spirit, and Laury, a friend who brings a spark of boldness to their lives, Sarah navigates a path filled with dirty games, unexpected challenges, and encounters with characters as intriguing as they are unsettling. This is a tale of sisterly love, sacrifice, and the pursuit of redemption amidst temptation, where Sarah emerges as the beacon piercing through the darkness, resolute in her mission to save her sister at any cost.

Sarah

I look toward the corner where the camera is, wondering if someone can hear our conversation, the proposition I was just given. A flush crawls up my neck, making me hot for all the wrong reasons.

"Does that embarrass you?" he asks, standing up too, making me look back at him. "That someone might have heard me saying I'll pay to fuck you?"

Oh God. I look away again, needing to hide the truth that might be in my eyes. The lust he'd find there if I looked at him for too long. Because I'm not embarrassed that someone might have heard. I'm turned on. I can feel the wetness coating my panties at this point. From the way he's watching me, his words, his voice. Then I do the dumbest thing possible. Check to see if he's as aroused as me. And fuck if his pants aren't tented... a lot.

"God, why haven't they gotten us out of here yet?" I groan.

"You'd pick the hotel. Just let me know which one, and I'll book a room. We meet, we fuck, we leave. Simple."

"What is simple about anything that you just said?"

"Do you accept?" he asks instead of answering my question.

"I can't. If I fuck you for money, that would make me a prostitute, wouldn't it?"

"It would make you a woman desperate enough to do anything for the money I'm offering."

"This is crazy. I don't know a thing about you. How do I know you'll even actually pay me?"

Why am I even asking this? Why am I even actually considering this?

"I'll pay you upfront, for the entire three months, the first time we meet."

My mouth hangs open in shock for a moment. Three hundred thousand dollars, up front. I can pay for Kamila's surgery, her hospital bills, get us a nicer apartment for her to come home to, leave that fucking diner. And most importantly, get her on the transplant list. But still, this is crazy, nuts, bonkers.

"This all sounds ridiculous. How do I know-"

My words cut off when he abruptly crosses the elevator, getting so close that I press back against the handrail to get some distance between us. But even that, he won't allow, taking another step closer.

"How do you know I'm not the answer to every one of your problems?" he asks, his voice low. "Especially the problem throbbing between your thighs right now."

I can't breathe, not with him so close, not with the barest hint of his hardness against my thigh, not with need rushing through me like it never has before. His height makes it so that my eyes are level with his chest, only allowing me to stare at the hint ofskin noticeable through the two buttons left undone at his neck. How can such a little bit of skin turn me on so much? Then my eyes are moving up, my head tilting back until I can look at his lips, quirking up at the corners again in the most seductive way. It’s as if they’re begging me to kiss them, forcing me to imagine what they’d feel like on my body.

I tell myself to look away from them, to look into his eyes instead. Only, when I do, I find his eyes are on my lips, want clear in them, as if he’s dying to kiss me. No, to devour me. And I want him to. God, I want him to. So why does spending every Saturday letting him do just that sound so absurd?

Because he's a stranger. Because he could do anything to me in that hotel room, and who would be any the wiser? Because this is the kind of thing that happens in movies, not in real life. Certainly not in mine.

"I... I..." I sputter, trying to tell him no, but not finding the words.

He leans closer, his nose trailing along my jaw. "Would it help if I told you just how badly I want you to say yes?"

Hell yeah, it would.

"A few Saturdays with me, doing whatever we want," he says into my ear now, closer, closer, until that hint of his hardness is now absolutely clear. It rubs against my inner thigh, so close to where I really want it to be right now. So close to the part of me that is thrumming with my pulse at this point, needy and desperate for attention. "I can smell how wet you are, Sarah. Won't you let me take care of it for you?"

A whimper does escape me that time. I couldn't stop it if I tried. But I don't try, because all of my attention is on preventing myself from taking my hands off of the handrail and putting them on him instead.

Suddenly, the elevator jerks and begins moving again. I look up at the roof, then at the camera again. But that only leaves my neck exposed. I feel his beard scrap against the skin there before I gasp and jerk my eyes to his. He licks those lips again.

"That sound." He all but growls. "All I want is that sound. Well, that and a few others."

He backs up then, giving me just a little space, but it feels like miles from the intensity we just shared. He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a card, extending it to me.

"If you agree, text the name of the hotel to this number, and I'll book us a room. Text me your bank information too. Just so you know I'm not tricking you, once I get the text, I'll transfer thirty thousand to your account. Our... arrangement would begin this Saturday.

"But..." I start with hesitation, taking the card from him. "Today is Friday."

"I know."

He smirks at me one more time before walking back to the other side of the elevator, bending over to pick up his jacket.

"So I have to decide by tomorrow?"

"No, you have to decide by tonight."

The elevator comes to a stop, and the doors open. He swings his jacket around his back, puts his arms in, all the while never looking away from me. Those gray eyes staring into mine, making my thoughts a mess, giving my thundering heart no relief since the moment I first looked into them. Then he begins walking out of the elevator, and without a single look back, he turns a corner and is gone.

I watch the empty space before me until the doors begin to close again. Hurrying to press the door open button, I step outof the elevator, looking around, expecting to find firemen here, someone, anyone. But I only find a mostly empty lobby. They must be in some mechanical room that controls everything. Whatever. All that matters is that I made it out of that deathtrap.

I begin walking to the doors, still checking behind me for any sign of Law. Then the fresh air hits me as the doors slide open. It is desperately needed. I hadn't even realized how hot I'd actually gotten in the elevator. I know now it had nothing to do with being stuck in there and everything to do with the man I was stuck in there with.

With the fresh air comes clarity. Of course, I can't meet him in some hotel. I can't have sex with someone for money, even if it is an obscene amount of it. Even if it would enable me to pay for everything I need to right now, and then some. I can't, I can't... right?

I begin my walk to the parking lot, now with only ten minutes to get to work instead of the twenty I needed. I'm going to be at least five minutes late since I still have to stop at home to put on my uniform. I put the card in my back pocket before getting into my car.

Once home, I hurry to change out of my jeans and T-shirt and into the black pants and hideous green shirt needed for work. Just as I reach the door, I stop, looking back at my jeans hanging over the chair. Knowing I don't have a second to spare, I rush back to them, and take the card out of the pocket. I'm not going to use it. I can't. I won't. But something makes me take it with me anyway.