Disclaimer: I do not own the show or the characters. Takes place after Gossip Girl episode 2.03, "The Dark Night."

Nate set down his toothbrush and spit in the sink again, accidentally catching his own reflection in the mirror before quickly turning away. It was getting tough for him to be in front of a mirror. He'd never been one to really obsess about the way he looked, but he'd have days when he thought he had cleaned up particularly well. Those days had all but disappeared. Anything Catherine liked about his appearance was something he had started to despise. He still went through the motions because he literally couldn't afford to lose her "generosity" (as she referred to it), but anything he did to look better just served as a reminder to him of why he was making such an effort. And that made him sick to his stomach.

Walking quickly from his bathroom to the bedroom, he unzipped his backpack and removed the thick envelope Catherine had sent with him. Before opening it, Nate got up and locked his door. He turned the envelope over and carefully tore the top open. Determined, he slid the stack of bills into his hand and began to count.

Twelve thousand dollars. The extra two grand was a tip, a bonus for a "job well done," she'd said. He had told her she could keep it, that he didn't want it. She'd replied, quite matter-of-factly, that she tipped everyone who provided her a service. "Why should you be any different?" she'd asked him, smirking.

Why, indeed. Except he knew he was worse. He wasn't cutting her hair or walking her dog. He wasn't arranging flowers or preparing food. He was fucking her. For money. Twelve thousand dollars, he repeated to himself. Enough to last the Archibald household, oh, less than a week.

He'd never needed to lie to his mother about it. He almost wished he could have. Thing was, she'd never asked. Not once. Somehow, it never crossed her mind to inquire as to where her 17-year-old was getting thousands of dollars by the week. He knew she assumed he was still getting the money from Chuck. Was his mother really that naive? For that matter, was Chuck so busy chasing after Blair that he didn't see his best friend progressively becoming more secretive and self-loathing? And did the cleaning staff not even notice how fast he was running out of soap and mouthwash?

It was to the point where all the things about Catherine that had initially turned him on had morphed into traits he found repulsive. In his mind, he rationally knew that she was a beautiful woman, but he couldn't even see her as one anymore. To him, she was just a cold, manipulative bitch who knew how to play him all too well. She literally owned his ass and loved reminding him of it. Things that he would have fantasized about doing to her, he now dreaded. When he let himself think too hard about it, which was seldom, he would secretly wonder if he wasn't fucking himself up for life with all this. Detachment was his preferred strategy. Detachment and acting -- because the Duchess liked (nay, demanded) a performance.

Sometimes, though, something in him would slip, and the thought of Vanessa would hit him full-force, often at the most inopportune times. What would she say to him if she was the one lying beneath him instead of Catherine? How would she smell, what would her skin feel like? Vanessa confused him. He truly thought that she could be trusted, that she could somehow help him out of this twisted situation. Instead, she had cut and run, very abruptly and unexpectedly. He hadn't called her, and he was sure he didn't know the whole story, but at this point he didn't even think it was worth it. He was way, way over his head, and he didn't want that for her. The things he was doing made him feel ashamed of himself, and he was afraid to see that shame reflected back at him in Vanessa's eyes, too.

Beep-Beep.

A text message. Nate picked up his phone. Message from Chuck, the screen told him. "Drinks. Palace. Thursday 7pm." Nate smiled. It had been a while since he and Chuck had just hung out. Chuck would no doubt drink too much and end up trying to hook up with some wide-eyed tourist. On the other hand, Chuck had seemed a little off his game lately. His hang-up on Blair was to blame, Nate was sure. Try as he might, he just couldn't understand that whole situation. Judging by the venom Chuck was spitting Marcus's way, though, Nate could tell he still wanted Blair in a big way.

Recently, however, Nate had read on Gossip Girl that a parade of women had been seen entering the Bass suite and exiting in a very disappointed manner. Thinking about the situation more, Nate frowned. He knew that Chuck enjoyed having sex with a number of women, some of whom were professionals. Hell, Chuck had even tried to get extra girls for Nate at times. Never again, Nate thought. Not after being the one on the other side of it. What pushed people to the point where they'd sell someone their own body for money? He had much clearer ideas now. Desperation. A lack of options. Quick money.

At least he still had a friend in Chuck, though. If he could get through six months of this, Chuck's money would be out of bonds and available to him again. He was sure Chuck would lend him the money. About to reply to the text, Nate paused when another Beep-Beep cut the silence.

Catherine.

"Ritz. 7pm Thursday. Wear the new suit I bought you."

Nate sighed deeply. Damn it.

Thank you for reading! There will be more. - AE