by C. C. Piper
“You are so gonna get laid soon!”
I tried not to visibly cringe as my friend Travis flopped onto the couch in my office. I was hardly a prude, but his immature ribbing could be irritating. “Don’t talk like that at work. You’re the CFO.” I pointed at him. “You need to set a good example.”
“No one’s here. I’m the chief financial officer, not the chief etiquette officer. The company needs me to manage financial risks, not be Miss Manners.”
“It’s a habit. And not a great one.” I rubbed my temples. Verbally sparring with Travis was pointless. We had been friends for too long for him to take me seriously, even though I was technically his boss.
I would never fire him, and he was well aware of it.
I maintained strict boundaries with my other employees. But Travis had been there for me since we were seven years old, whether it was beneficial to him or not. And while a lot of friends would jump at the chance to work for me, Travis didn’t need this job. Like me, he was independently wealthy.
I sagged in my chair. I wouldn’t let anyone else catch a glimpse of me like this. By all accounts, I should be celebrating.
I had just finished a successful speech and at a very successful gala that raised a lot of money for a good cause. I had a new client, and a horde of young employees who were driven to make money. However, I had something else on my mind.
Travis knew that later tonight I would visit Command, the very private, very exclusive club. He had introduced me to the club, and obviously felt some ownership of my experience there. And he would needle me relentlessly about it, and I would tell him to mind his own business. I could deal with that. I could follow that script
I pushed myself from my chair and stood by the wet bar in my office. I poured just a drop of scotch into a glass, swallowing it at once. It burned my throat, but it was a good distraction.
I was on edge — With good reason.
Tonight, I would meet the Wish Maker.
For the first time, I was going to the club alone. I wouldn’t have Travis there to distract me.
I had changed out of my tuxedo, and I was driving my Tesla, hoping to go unrecognized while driving to the club. Just a month ago, I wouldn’t have thought it possible that I would agree to join this sort of club, much less meet the Wish Maker.
When Travis had joined this exclusive club, available only to millionaires and billionaires, he hadn’t even been able to share the name with me. I only found out that it was called Command once I’d been there myself. And I hadn’t known the Wish Maker existed either until my first visit when the receptionist asked if I’d like to meet with her.
The stories surrounding the Wish Maker said that she could make all my dreams come true, that she’d find the perfect woman for me.
If this bizarre matchmaking went well, I’d owe him one, thanks to his insistence that it was time for me to start dating again.
Although dating didn’t apply to what I was doing.
I wanted a woman who would be mine.
Supposedly, the Wish Maker would make that happen.
She was a legend in the club. No one knew anything about her, other than she had the ability to fulfill any desire. According to Travis, no one knew what she looked like. And no one who had met with her would say. She was a phantom, even within the secluded world of Command. They would only say that it was an opportunity unlike any other.
I had visited Command for the first time the previous month. I had gone back twice more, to make sure I gathered all the information necessary to make my decisions. This was my fourth visit, and I would begin the process of clarifying exactly what I wanted in a woman.
I’d had an epiphany in the last few days; I wanted a woman who would submit to me, but I wanted very clear rules.
My wishes would be very simple, compared to some — I wanted a woman who did what I asked. If she were willing to trade that for a life of comfort, I was fine with that, as long as I went in with my eyes open.
I would not tolerate deception.
I made my way to the entry of the club, the scent of jasmine heavy in the air. I had come to associate the smell with Command.
I had been given a cell phone number to call when I reached the doors. Once connected, a woman’s voice said, “Hello Richard. Please enter.”
At the reception area, the same woman who I’d seen each time I’d been there was behind the desk. We exchanged the normal pleasantries. “I’ll walk you up,” she said. She then led me to a room I hadn’t seen before.
It looked like the rest of the club. Deceptively homey, with hardwood floors and an exposed brick wall. Also like the other rooms, there was a fireplace in the corner.
“Sit.” She indicated an armchair. “We want to be comfortable here.”
I expected her to leave. But to my shock, she sat down across from me, folding her legs underneath her.
The woman who sat across from me was the same person I’d met when I first came to the club. She’d been working the entryway desk as a receptionist.
“You pretended to be the receptionist.” It wasn’t often that I was caught off-guard. I couldn’t hide the accusation in my voice.
“Pretended? There was no pretending. At times, I may occupy any role within the club. That is the best way to be aware of all the goings-on.”
I was well aware of that myself. When I was younger, my father had made me work several jobs in the company. I had answered phones, processed packages in the mailroom, and typed up notes for executives.
“I like to observe our clients without them knowing who I am. I need to see their reactions. I need to know what they want, and what they’re capable of.” She pressed her lips together. Then she smiled. Her smile was terrifying. “You are an aggressive man, cold and aloof at times, but you are not violent, nor are you cruel.”
I frowned. I liked to think that I was a little more inscrutable than that. I had been told for my entire life that I was intimidating and hard to read. But this woman understood me. She understood me more after three hours than most people ever did.
“You could tell that about me?”
“Yes. Over the years, I have developed the ability to see who will be a good fit. Who will treat the woman as he says he will. Who will not deviate from the plan to her detriment. We have ways of dealing with those men, but I would rather not have to.”
I was sure she was effective. I had no doubt she was well-connected. Her ability to make things happen was written all over her face.
“There is no fee for the services of the Wish Maker,” she went on. “However, the gentlemen that use our services often make a donation. As with the rest of the club, we require complete privacy. No one has ever shared our secret. No one has ever revealed our identities.”
“I can guarantee that I will not abuse your trust. Nor will I ever reveal any of your secrets.”
She nodded but didn’t speak.
If she could really find me the woman that I wanted, then every penny spent would be worth it. “If you find a match for me, I will make a donation of one million dollars. To match the membership fee.” I didn’t say it, because it sounded melodramatic, but I would consider giving up my status as a billionaire to have the woman that I wanted.
“We appreciate your donation, Mr. Boswell.” The Wish Maker reached for two glasses of wine on the table beside her. She handed one to me. “Now that all the business is out of the way, we can move on to the fun part.”
Fun. I wouldn't describe this as fun. Necessary, maybe, but not fun.
She didn’t have a notebook, or a computer. “Tell me about what you want.”
I considered my words, not wanting to offend. I often spoke my mind, but didn’t care about the consequences. This situation was different. It seemed fraught with the potential to go downhill very very quickly.
It was such a simple question, yet I didn’t answer.
I could leave.
No one was forcing me to do this.
The only ne
gative outcome would be losing my membership, and the ability to ever have the Wish Maker find my perfect match.
Was that a risk I was willing to take?
Apparently not, because I was still seated across from her, holding a glass of merlot.
“Mr. Boswell, there is nothing you can’t ask for. If I don’t think the request is possible, I will say so. If it’s legal, then I will do anything within my power to grant your wish.”
According to Travis, she would. He had told me of a friend of his who’d seen the Wish Maker. His friend had extreme tastes; he liked pain, and he liked blood. He used whips, and he used knives. Yet she had found him the perfect match, a woman who was also a willing participant and enjoyed rough play.
I had never been a wimp. I had never shied away from doing difficult things.
I was going to bare my soul to this stranger.
“I want a virgin,” I said. I would begin with the most important trait. “That is an absolute. If she’s not a virgin, then I’m not interested.” I wanted to be the one to teach her about lovemaking. I wanted to be the one to teach her how her body could respond to a man. “You may not charge for your services, but I will donate an extra one million dollars for her virginity, on top of the other funds, so I’ll be donating two million dollars for the match.”
“I understand. Your generosity will be appreciated.” The Wish Maker took a sip of wine. “What else?”
I swirled my wine. “She must be quiet, and submissive. That is another absolute must.”
“You don’t want a submissive only in the bedroom, you want her to be meek and mild all day, every day.”
“Yes.” I tasted the Merlot. It was bitter, with a woodsy flavor. “I want her obedience. Not as a game, where I give her an order, she flaunts it, and then I spank her as a punishment. I don’t want to play out a scene. I want this to be my life. I want a woman that lives with me, and when I want something, I want her to do as I say. I want her to be mine. Until I’m ready for her to go, if that day comes.”
“We can work with that. What else?”
“I want her to be eighteen to twenty-five years old. That’s negotiable, but I want her to be under thirty.”
“Anything else?”
“No.” I turned to stare at the flames in the fireplace for a few moments. “Those are my only requirements. I plan to treat her like a princess. She will want for nothing. She’ll have use of my chef and my wardrobe stylist. She can choose a hair stylist and a manicurist. All her living expenses will be paid, and she’ll be provided with a cell phone and a tablet. And health and dental care. She can have a car to drive herself, or a driver. She’ll get a generous monthly stipend as well, to spend however she likes.”
“That sounds pretty easy.”
“I want to shape her. Teach her etiquette. Teach how to meet people. The way I want her to.”
“Those are reasonable demands.” The Wish Maker tilted her head. Her eyes seemed to change color in the firelight. “So you have two priorities. One, her virginity, and two, a woman who is submissive full-time, which is a little more elusive.” She smiled serenely. “Don’t worry. Finding your princess will not prove challenging to me.”
“How do you find the candidates?”
She shook her head. “I think that would take some of the mystery out of it.”
I wasn’t born yesterday. I could imagine how it worked. Find a woman who needed help. Maybe she needed money for school. Maybe she was facing eviction. Maybe she owed a huge debt from unpaid medical bills. I’m sure the chance to have financial security in exchange for catering to the wants of a rich man would appeal to some women.
I vowed to make sure the woman she matched for me would end up better off than she began. If she gave me her virginity, then I would compensate her fairly, even if she left immediately. I would make sure her debts were paid. I would create a trust fund for any education she wanted. And I’d buy her a car.
She’d have some intangible benefits as well. She’d have gained experience with a skilled lover. She’d have training in how to mingle at formal social events. She’d understand wine lists and learn how to read menus in French and Italian restaurants. If it lasted, she’d get to travel the world.
It sounded like a fair deal.
“I will find a list of suitable candidates. Within forty-eight hours, I will introduce you to the first.”
“If I accept one of the women you find, I want a trial period of two weeks to see if we’re compatible before we move on to a one year committment.”
“It would hardly be fair if you took her virginity and released her after one week.”
“You’re right. If I end the relationship before the full year specified in the contract, and I’ve already taken her virginity, I’ll compensate her with a payout of the full $480,000 she would have earned if I’d kept her for the full year. You have my word. I can put it in a trust now, if you prefer.”
“Your word is enough. Consider it done,” she said. “I do know where to find you after all, if you were to break your promise.”
That seemed fairly sinister, but I expected nothing less.
The Wish Maker held out her hand, and I shook it.
When I got to my car, the gravity of what I had done hit me.
I would be letting a woman into my home. I wasn’t there much, but my home was my haven. A haven where I had never brought a romantic partner of any kind.
I stood and stared at the sky. A shooting star shot across its expanse.
I didn’t believe in signs. This contract with the woman that the Wish Maker found would be a business deal.
Nothing more.
3
Chrissy
By eight o’clock in the morning, the sun shone brightly through the blinds at the Sweet Lime Café, and the sharp smell of coffee filled the air.
As I laid out silverware on tables, I kept my eyes on the notecard I had taped to my sleeve. I had a quiz on the Rise of Greek Civilization in one hour, and my boss had given me permission to study as long as I wasn’t neglecting any of my tables.
Working at the café was perfect, because it was right next to Cal State, and my boss was willing to give me morning hours which worked great with my class schedule.
I could work at the cafe, go to class, then make it over to Bella’s school in time to get her. Usually tips weren’t nearly as good at a morning shift, but when the customers saw me studying, they usually wanted to talk about school. They’d ask about my major, what I wanted to do after I graduated, and if they were an alumni, they’d ask about what professors I liked best.
I enjoyed the conversations. They made me feel normal, like a regular college student, and if we talked for a long time, the chatty customers would give a bigger tip and wish me well. Even when I wasn’t feeling quite so social, I pushed myself to engage with them, to ensure that I would get that bigger tip. I wasn’t completely comfortable having such calculated thoughts about people I liked, but I had no choice. Besides, it was much better than the stories I’d heard from a few friends who’d worked as bartenders.
Even though I felt a little guilty about chatting for tips, those exchanges made me feel a little more optimistic about the life I was providing for Bella. With enough extra money, I could get Bella a winter uniform. The charter school she attended was free, but the uniforms weren’t.
I took a sip of the orange juice I’d stashed behind the counter. We made it freshly squeezed, and it helped get me going in the morning. I got tired of the smell of pancakes and syrup, but the smell of orange juice was always welcome.
I finished the first row of tables and glanced at my notecard. “Polis is the Greek word for a city-state. They called it Synoikismos. Which means ‘a gathering together’ in Greek,” I muttered to myself. I hoped I had it straight.
As I was frowning at my notecard, one of my regulars sat down.
“Want me to quiz you?” he asked.
He was around seventy-five years old, and he met his friend
s for breakfast every Tuesday and Thursday. He’d been a high school chemistry teacher for forty years. He said he didn’t miss teaching, but I suspected otherwise. He was always the first to arrive at the cafe, and my boss said it was so he could talk to me about school.
I dug the rest of the index cards out of my apron pocket and handed them over. “I’d love that.”
“I’ll start at the top,” my customer said. “Why is Greece called the cradle of civilization?”
“Because —” Before I could get my explanation out, my boss appeared in the doorway.
“Chrissy,” he said. “I need to talk to you.”
I took a step away from my customer. I’d never seen my boss’s face look quite so serious. He’d never minded me getting involved with the customers. He even said some of them liked feeling like they were a part of my life, and it made them relive their college days. He’d even let me bring Bella in on her days off school, and she’d drawn pictures for the customers. Surely he hadn’t changed his mind.
In the seconds before he spoke, I prayed he hadn’t.
I could not lose this job.
“Excuse me,” I said to my customer.
I went to stand in front of my boss.
His face wasn’t red and splotchy with anger like it was when a server was late, or when the hostess deliberately gave grouchy clients a table they didn’t want.
He looked … concerned. His eyes were wide and watery, and his brows were drawn together. “Someone’s on the phone for you. Come with me.” He motioned for me to follow him to the office.
My shoulders slumped.
The good news was that he wasn’t upset about me hanging out with the customers. The bad news was that someone had probably called about my mother. Unfortunately she’d followed me here one morning and she’d seen the name of the place where I worked.
On her more lucid days, when she could remember my name and the name of the café, I’d received calls from her, although she usually called my cell phone. I’d gotten calls a few times from the jail, when she’d been arrested. I’d gotten one from the ER when she’d had an overdose. My boss was probably scared that I’d be upset. Most people would be, if their mom was in jail or overdosing.
