Omega in the Sand - Aria Grace

One

Isaac

Salt spray, sunshine, a cool breeze, and a mimosa. I'm definitely feeling like I'm on top of the world as I perch on the edge of a deck chair and watch the glittering ocean waves pass by. I've never been on a yacht before, or any boat for that matter, and I'm already completely in love with the experience. I could definitely get used to this kind of luxury.

Since joining Omega for Hire, two months after my nineteenth birthday, I've had a never-ending roller-coaster ride of new experiences. Apparently, I'm exactly the sort of omega most rich alphas want to date. Young, ditzy, with a great smile and a firm ass. I can hang on their arm, laugh at their jokes, and make them feel powerful. And in exchange, they take me to all kinds of swanky parties and extravagant excursions.

This time, however, I'm not the only omega along for the ride.

There are about thirty of us, all from Omega for Hire, lounging around the yacht right now. Less than ten minutes ago, we were waiting on the dock in a private marina, now we're gliding across the ocean toward some private island where we're supposed to spend the next two weeks working as staff at a special island resort for the social elite. In order to get the job, we had to sign non-disclosure agreements and we've got very specific contracts detailing what's expected of us on the island.

Farron, the owner of Omega for Hire, explained it like this. We're there to serve drinks, wait tables, and look cute. We're not expected to have sex with any of the resort guests. We're eye candy, not lap warmers. That said, we're expected to comply with the dress code for the resort staff and to conduct ourselves in a manner befitting Omega for Hire. Because, this isn't just any resort we're heading to.

"First time on a yacht?"

The question catches me off guard, and I flinch as I turn toward the speaker. It's another omega. I definitely don't recognize him, but I haven't really had the chance to make many friends at Omega for Hire just yet. I'm not really great at making friends to begin with, so it might just be a "me" problem.

"Um, yeah, it is," I say, doing my best not to sound too excited about it. The alphas might like it when I'm cute and ditzy, but other omegas usually just get annoyed. "How about you?"

"Not my first rodeo." The guy grins and shakes his head. "I'm Anders, by the way."

"Isaac." I desperately wrack my brain for something else to say but come up with nothing.

Thankfully, Anders is a far better conversationalist than I am.

"Well, Isaac, what made you wanna take on a job like this? Is it just the money or do you like the idea of all those alphas drooling over you?" He chuckles as he takes a seat beside me. "Don't worry, it's not a trick question or anything. For me, it's all about the money."

I laugh with him. Honestly, I'm glad to have someone to talk to. I was feeling really awkward over here by myself. I've just gotta try to keep it cool so I don't come across as desperate.

"Same for me," I confirm with a little nod. "My parents would be so ashamed."

"Parents are always disappointed about something." Anders shrugs. "But, if it helps, just remember that alphas have been taking advantage of omegas for centuries. But they're reduced to complete drooling buffoons when they get a glimpse of an omega with a sweet ass and a G-string."

"Ah, so it's just revenge," I surmise, nodding sagely.

"I wouldn't call it that…at least not too loudly." Anders nudges my shoulder and grins. "As long as they're willing to pay me for a glimpse of something I got for free, then the way I see it, I'm the one taking advantage of them."

We chat for a few more minutes and get better acquainted. Anders is a little older than me, but he's already accumulated so much more life experience. The way he talks makes me instantly like him, but I'm still doing my best not to appear desperate. Wouldn't want to scare off the first real chance I've got at making a friend in…well, months.

"Mmm, can you watch my bag for a second?" I ask as I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. I'd rather not drag my overstuffed backpack into the tiny bathroom.

"No problem," Anders says, offering me a playful salute. "I'll expect you