The faculty lounge at the university was a sanctuary of beige armchairs and the smell of burnt espresso. Antoinette sat by the window, staring into the foam of her latte.
Heidy Hendrix, a Psychology professor with wild red hair and a penchant for oversized jewelry, sat opposite her.
"You look... better," Heidy noted. She eyed the glow in Antoinette's cheeks. It was the first time in months Antoinette didn't look like she had slept in a dumpster.
Antoinette smiled. It was a secret, smug smile.
"I think I met someone."
Heidy raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell."
Antoinette leaned forward. "It was... intense. He held my hands. He told me I was breathtaking. He said my ex was a fool."
She omitted the part about the contract. She omitted the timer. In her mind, the memory had already been rewritten. The payment wasn't a fee; it was a gift.
Heidy frowned. "Annie, be careful. Was this... the proxy?"
Antoinette waved her hand dismissively. "Technically. But he looked at me, Heidy. He cried. I saw it."
Heidy sighed. "Men like that are actors, Annie. They mirror what you want. It's a classic case of transference, you're projecting a savior archetype onto him because he's a blank slate."
"No," Antoinette insisted. "You didn't see his eyes."
Just then, movement outside the window caught her eye. Antoinette gasped. She pointed a manicured finger at the glass.
"That's him."
Heidy turned. Through the glass, she saw a young man walking down the campus path. He was wearing a faded hoodie and carrying a stack of library books. He looked tired.
"The student?" Heidy asked. "He looks like a broke puppy."
"He's struggling," Antoinette said, her voice softening. "That's why he works. He has so much potential."
As they watched, Kellen stopped. A student dropped a pen in front of him. Kellen picked it up and handed it back with a polite smile.
"See?" Antoinette said triumphantly. "He's naturally kind."
Heidy shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe he likes older women. You are a catch, Annie."
The seed was planted. It took root in Antoinette's brain instantly. Her money wasn't buying his time. It was supporting his dreams. She was his patron. His muse.
She pulled out her phone. She typed a text.
I need you this afternoon. Personal shopping.
Outside, Kellen felt his phone vibrate. He stopped walking. He checked the screen. He sighed. He typed a reply.
My rate for shopping is double, Ms. Lowe.
Antoinette read the text and laughed. A girlish sound.
"He's playing hard to get," she said. "Cute."
She opened her banking app and transferred two thousand dollars.
Outside, Kellen saw the notification. His eyes widened. He looked at the phone, then up at the sky.
"Guess I'm a personal shopper now," he muttered.
Antoinette stood up, energized. "I'm going to dress him up."
Heidy watched her go, shaking her head. "This won't end well."
