by Lisa Daniels
Well, she supposed she’d been scammed out of a lot more money than just one thousand. Not so much a scam if he turned out to be sincere in his intentions.
Could this thing actually work, though? She didn’t believe for a second that she could become something different. Personalities set. People’s minds became a certain way. What you saw at fourteen stayed the same when becoming older, just with more experiences accumulated.
She closed her eyes, imagining his touch. Imagining what it might have been like to surrender, as Rita insisted on doing. Shannon very much preferred control. Rita spoke of living in the moment, of letting go of shame.
Claire’s phone buzzed. It was Rita, who had finally woken up and read her messages, listened to her voice mail.
“What the heck, Claire! You’re hiring that guy to teach you to be a pick-up artist and you didn’t even have sex? What’s wrong with you?” Her tone, however, spoke of delight and awe, rather than condescension and disgust.
“I think someone did a brain transplant on me,” Claire replied, feeling a lot less stupid about her choice after hearing Rita.
“Looks like it! But now I’m interested, and jealous. You’re going behind enemy lines with this, you know that? You’re going to find out what to do from the guy’s side.” She paused. “Though I don’t think it’s that hard. Just look like a slut and everyone will be all over you.”
“He actually thinks he can help me,” Claire said. “Bring out my wild side. I don’t have a wild side to bring out, though.”
“Mm, yeah. Think you killed that when you started working.”
I made a lot of money, though, Claire thought. So it wasn’t all bad. Consummate career woman, doing everything right, even if it meant skipping certain development stages. It was what men had to do, right? Except they didn’t have to have something growing in their stomachs. They didn’t have to lose promotions because of the underlying company fear that the woman would eventually take time out for the children she would inevitably have. They didn’t have to stay at home to make sure that the child basically didn’t choke to death on its own spit.
All the little resentments she’d piled up over her life bubbled within. Oh yeah, to be taken seriously in the workplace, her female colleagues didn’t showcase anything about their families back home. No baby pictures. No talking about nappies and illnesses and arranging their lives to accommodate their kids. The men, though—oh, it was normal for them to have pictures on their desk. Made them more relatable. In her fuming state, she almost missed what Rita said next.
“Make sure that he doesn’t rip you off and take you for everything you have. He might be sensing an easy money squeeze.”
“I know how to take care of myself,” Claire said. “You needn’t worry about me.”
“Sure, you can take care of yourself financially. But you don’t have a whole lot of experience with the emotional side of things. As I keep telling you.”
“Yeah, yeah, no need to beat me over the head with it. I’ll be fine. Besides, I have you as a backup, don’t I?”
Rita seemed somewhat mollified by this, and stopped her commentary on the situation. It was good to have friends like Rita and Shannon. Claire had more than just them, but these were the two she saw the most. The ones she’d shared the most with, and who put up with her disappearing acts.
Claire made a couple of perfunctory calls to her parents and aunt afterward, though they didn’t cover any new ground, and then got up, kick-starting her day with food, a shower, and relaxation.
Waiting for a message from Kallen. Wondering if she should be the one to message first, though maybe that would seem a little too desperate.
A message appeared. Come to the hotel entrance. We’ll discuss more about what’s to be done. Reply if you can make it.
She replied. Of course she could. She was on holiday, after all. For a month. The longest holiday she’d ever had, though considering the fact that she never took holidays, that wasn’t exactly a hard challenge to pass. She’d already gotten a couple of confused calls from her workplace from colleagues who still had trouble wrapping their heads around the fact that she wasn’t there.
Scurrying around to get herself ready, she finished with a quick touch-up in the bathroom mirror, before scrambling into her car to head to the small hotel on the edge of town.
Kallen stood ready and waiting for her, and even offered a little smile as she approached him by the entrance doors, where there were a few picnic benches shaded by large, blue umbrella stands. He had one of those heat burner cigarettes, small and white, and finished it by clicking the device shut, after disposing of his cigarette.
A smoker, Claire thought with some disappointment. But she didn’t let it show. “How long have you been waiting out here?”
“About an hour,” he said. “I expected to go back home today, start up another job on Date Monsters. I canceled it.”
“You… you did?” Claire stared at him, unsure what to make of this information.
“Mm.” He regarded her with keen, dark orange eyes. “This is a first for me. So I’m not really sure where to begin with it. Only that by the end, you will be transformed. I’ll make certain of it.” He smiled in a predatory way, which made Claire feel out at sea, all alone, unsure of just what she was getting herself into. They finalized details, and she paid him a lot more money. Enough to take a significant dip into her life savings, but not quite enough to make her fly into a panic.
“Don’t look at me,” she replied, holding her hands up in rejection. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do either.” Except apparently I’ve found an excuse to keep you around for longer.
“I know.” He drummed his fingers on the wooden picnic table for a moment, still in heavy contemplation mode. “I’m thinking before we start you off with how to be more provocative to guys, feel more confident in yourself, you should learn to identify the types of guys you don’t want to screw.”
Claire’s eyes went wide. “Wait, what?”
“Get in the car,” he said, flicking out his own car keys. “I’ll take you to the city. An area where you won’t be recognized. Let’s begin the training in earnest.”
Baffled, she complied, though a part of her didn’t want to clamber into the car. What if this was some elaborate set-up? But the way he’d just ordered her, it wasn’t a demanding way, but just as if it was simply obvious she would obey. She both resented and admired that, and took the opportunity to message her friends once more to explain where she was going.
It took them a little over two hours to drive to Baltimore, plunging into the heart of a bustling city that felt as if it was all noise and fumes and brash colors—all things Claire didn’t like. Kallen didn’t like talking much when he drove, which he had explained with an apologetic air. He preferred to listen to music, and they’d gone through a variety of pop and rock songs for the journey. When they finally pulled into a parking lot, he broke into conversation once more as they headed to what was meant to be a popular bar and nightclub.
“You ever heard of a pick-up artist?”
“Mm. Are you one?” Claire asked, looking up into the werewolf’s face. He gave a small smile.
“Not quite the same way these guys do it. I prefer to get paid for my efforts. Pick-up artists tend to follow a nasty ethos, and you’ll see this when you enter the bar. The way you look, right now, it’s good. You’re showing a little cleavage,” he said, which made her flush slightly and tug up her top a little more. “You’re light on the makeup, and you’ve sort of got this innocent, doe-eyed look about you that will make some guys think you’re easy. Here’s what will happen. You’re going to pretend to be interested in the guys that will talk to you in this bar, but your main aim is to listen to what they’re doing to try and lure you into their beds. You will, of course, not go with any of them. And if any turn out to be a little too persistent, I will barge in as the fake boyfriend to ensure they don’t get away with it.”
Claire stared at him
with a rising edge of horror. “You want me to be picked up?”
“This doesn’t require you to act wild,” he said. “I want you to get used to what guys will do. You have to learn what to expect, what you want, and what to avoid at all costs. Best way I can think of doing it is to throw you in the deep end. This club here, the Nautilus, has a reputation for attracting certain kinds of people. You’ll see soon enough...” He stopped walking. “Are you prepared for this? If you want to learn, and really learn, then you need to obey me. Is that clear?”
She nodded curtly in response, not wanting to seem weak or a drop-out, though inside, the panic continued to thrash. With a last nervous adjustment, she went inside the bar, which had provocative neon signs on the outside, as if indicating a strip club, though there were no strippers within. She went inside alone, because Kallen didn’t want anyone to see them together. He entered about fifteen minutes later, when she’d already gotten a drink for herself, pretending to drink it. She took the time to examine the room. Most of the women here were together in little packs, but there were some who were alone. There was a considerable number of men here, outnumbering the women, and a few of them had an intense, purposeful look to their features. Like they were scouting.
I have to make eye contact, she thought, reminding herself of Kallen’s words. She had to play the part of someone vulnerable but interested. Which wasn’t hard to do, hunching up over her drink. Just as Kallen slid into the bar, one man approached her.
“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?” the man said, flashing her a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Nevertheless, he did have some charm, and she tentatively smiled back.
“Waiting for the right person, I suppose,” she said, after her brain unfroze enough to come up with something.
“Someone like you shouldn’t be waiting all alone. Could be dangerous, since you’re not so covered up, and people might want to take advantage of that.”
Once Claire stopped her head spinning from the novelty of being chatted up by a random guy, she noticed a faint undercurrent of unease when this man talked to her. He was smiling, acting charming, but there was something about his comments that was suggestive of something else. Flattery, or an insult? The man took advantage of her hesitations to sit down, lean forward, and stare at her hungrily as he spoke, saying how beautiful she was, that she didn’t really need that makeup. That she should be careful, because of the type of men who would surely want to capitalize on her being here all alone.
He, of course, was setting himself up to be the nice guy to protect her from the others. When she finally found the courage to politely decline his advances, he looked pissed off, but instantly prowled toward another lonely woman. As if she didn’t even matter. As if all that man had needed was a placeholder woman.
The second and third guys were similar. The fourth one came with such an offensive pick-up line that she didn’t understand how he thought it acceptable to say. You want your hole filled with my dick? The fifth one became particularly clingy, pushing at her, bulling past her protests by stating she was clearly too inexperienced, and he’d help her with that. She wouldn’t need to make sandwiches with someone like him. He just didn’t seem to take no for an answer. She felt herself cornered more and more, until finally, Kallen surged from the sidelines to place himself between Claire and the aggressor.
“Back off, mate.”
The man cursed. “This isn’t your business.” He attempted to shove at Kallen, but cursed further when Kallen bared his teeth and let out an inhuman growl.
“Shifter scum,” the man spat, before giving Claire an evil eye, as if this whole situation was somehow her fault. “When this guy rapes you, you’ll be begging it was me instead.”
He backed off, still delivering hostile glances, and Claire let out a breath she didn’t notice she’d been holding. “Holy crap,” she said. Her initial embarrassment at being approached had been replaced by sheer indignation, and a little adrenaline. “What’s wrong with these men?”
Kallen gestured for her to join him in the corner he’d come from, which helped tuck her out of the target zone, as he described it. It also gave her ample view to watch what the others within the bar were doing. “Tell me. How did the men make you feel?”
She bit her lip. “Uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable. One did the dick pic thing. That guy, he just wouldn’t take no for an answer. The others… I didn’t know if they were complimenting me. I felt bad for feeling bad. If that makes sense?”
He smiled wider at her words. He looked almost sinister in the gloom of the corner, which was not as brightly lit as the central parts of the bar. Claire’s eyes rested on a couple kissing in what looked like a full tongue-twisting display in the opposing corner, trying to ignore the body heat creeping within.
“There’s a subset of men who are all about getting notches on their bedposts,” he said with the air of someone trying to impart valuable information. “And they get their kind of techniques from other man who view women as targets. Objects to conquer. Things to manipulate.” He did the drumming with his long, slender fingers, nails tapping the dark wood of the square table. “You notice how quickly some of them switch from you to another target? They don’t care about you. They only want what’s between your legs. You must also notice the backhanded compliments some give. Ones that almost sound sincere, but are actually designed to undermine your own self-confidence. Ones that leave you scratching your head and wondering if you’d been insulted or not, which makes you want to defend yourself, which makes you want him, subconsciously, to approve of you. Those are the men to watch out for.”
He then cleared his throat. “Unless, of course, you don’t mind being treated as an object to be conquered. If you have no standards. Like them.” He jerked his fingers at a couple of women, dressed so scantily, they were millimeters away from revealing all their cleavage and whatever they wore between their legs. One was being spoken to by the third guy in Claire’s arsenal of men. She watched in a kind of horrified fascination as a moment later, he was grabbing the woman’s ass, and she’d hooked her leg around him in such an intimate way that it made her ears burn.
“It’s called negging,” he said, and she had to glance at him, baffled by the use of the word.
“What’s that?”
“What people like them use.” His lips twisted into a frown. “I used it a few times. Before I started to know better. There are many people with self-esteem problems. The technique is designed to target those insecurities, and increase the likelihood that the low self-esteem person will sleep with you as a means of seeking your approval. Or because of a feeling they won’t get anyone else.”
Claire listened with an increasing sense of unease, because she saw how such techniques might work on her. “That’s horrible.”
“That’s reality,” he said in a brusque way. “And the more you dress and look like these women,” he said, again indicating the ones leaving little to the imagination, “the far more likely you’ll be targeted by these kinds of people. My aim here is to turn you into someone looking for a good time, but recognizing danger signs. You need to be completely forceful to these men. You need to state, in a straightforward manner, that you’re not interested. You’ll need to put up with some abuse from the more prideful ones, but it will cause less problems in the long run.”
All in all, it was the most bizarre lesson Claire had ever had. Under Kallen’s watchful eye, she observed with him the dynamics of the bar. He tasked her to identify women with low self-esteem, and she found it easier as the day went on. By evening, it had become too crowded, and he drove her back home. Her mind buzzed with questions, faintly disturbed by what she’d seen and experienced, and fascinated by how primitive it all seemed. People seeking mates. People seeking instant gratification. People preying on perceived weaknesses in order to do so.
She wondered if Rita had ever given herself standards, or allowed herself to be taken in by anyone who showed the sl
ightest interest. Slept with the whole school was a little bit of an exaggeration, but Rita certainly had gotten around. It alarmed Claire on some level that so much emotional manipulation went on when it came to one-night stands. To dating. How calm Kallen had been when describing the process disturbed her as well. To him, this was normal and expected from people.
“I didn’t enjoy this,” she admitted to Kallen, after struggling with the idea of admitting it at all. He stood by the side of his car, watching her shut the door. “I didn’t like finding out about these things.”
“That’s reality,” he told her. “If you’re lucky enough to find a decent person, then cling onto them and never let them go. But most out there are looking for something. Sex. Someone to control, someone to make them feel better, to make them feel like life is worth living.”
“If that’s what it means to live on the wild side, then I’m not sure I want to at all,” Claire said. Already she was starting to regret paying this man so much money just to teach her to hate people a little more.
“I understand. I just want you to prepare. I want you, when you do seek to have fun, to actually have fun. And not just wind up in bed with someone who makes you feel like shit.”
Claire straightened herself up at that. No. She wouldn’t ask to end this just yet. He was right. She saw it. She needed to learn something like this, to stop her from making a huge mistake later on, when she felt her body clock ticking closer to its end, when she felt more and more desperate for something to happen, and to likely get herself in a situation where she could be taken advantage of. This was a warning.
“Thanks.” She bade him goodbye and walked to her front door. She turned once to see he was still there, watching. She entered her home quietly, still wondering if she was doing the right thing.
