The Learning Curve

by Collins, Kelly

  I entered the car and waited for him to climb inside. The engine purred to life, and I turned toward him. “He wants a bone; I want his boner.”

  Jason pounded on the steering wheel and laughed.

  * * *

  It didn’t take us long to reach Fifth Avenue. He pulled into an underground parking garage and rushed around the car to open my door. I liked that about older men. Either they didn’t understand the feminist agenda, or they ignored it.

  They were often old school, and that meant having old-fashioned manners. I never understood why I had to trade in being treated like a lady for being treated equally. Certainly, women should be able to be women, and treating them well shouldn’t take anything away from a man feeling like a man.

  Rather than enter the building through the garage, Jason led me to the street where we approached the front door. He put his key into the lock of a door located between two law offices.

  Inside, I chuckled. How interesting that I might be running a business that walked a fine line between legal and not. This was the perfect location. If I found myself in trouble, at least legal help was close.

  The door creaked open. Inside was a small room with hardwood floors. It wasn’t anything special, but I was a pro at rubbing coal into diamonds. I closed my eyes and envisioned painted walls with pictures of local landmarks. Smack dab in the center would be an impressive wood desk. In front of the window, a couple of chairs could flank a gold leafed table.

  “It’s small, but I think it can work.” I walked the perimeter, counting off the square feet to get a good feel for the size.

  “It’s not what it seems.” He walked beside me and stopped in the center of the right wall.

  “Are you trying to convince me it’s not small?”

  “No, I’m telling you that not everything is as it seems. Kind of like the business you’ll run.”

  I loved that he had confidence and considered me capable of running a business. My eyes scanned the room again. It was maybe three hundred and fifty square feet at most. I looked high and low for whatever he wanted me to see, but I came up empty.

  “I’m not following you.”

  He pressed on the wall beside my head. A click-pop broke the surrounding silence, and a secret entrance revealed itself. He walked in before me and flipped the light switch. Beyond that hidden door was an office with much potential. The same hardwood covered the floors. Although odd-shaped—probably due to the configuration of the law office next door—it was an amazing space, much larger than the main office.

  “This is perfect for you. Run the concierge service from the front office and everything else from here.” He walked toward the back of the room. “There’s also a storage room and a bathroom that could come in handy.” He waggled his brows at me.

  I dropped my purse and let my hands rest on my hips. “I’m not setting up a brothel, so don’t give me that look.” I walked the space like I did the front office and imagined white velvet sofas and a burled wood desk. “Can I afford this?”

  “We’ll work something out.”

  I gave him an I’m-not-sleeping-with-you look. “What are the terms?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. Let’s have dinner, and we can discuss the particulars.”

  We walked out the front door to discuss my future.

  Chapter 13

  It wasn’t La Grenouille, but the Jewish deli had its own appeal, starting with the corned beef and Swiss cheese on rye. We sat in a booth covered in cracked black leather and negotiated.

  “I love you like a daughter, Sandra.”

  “Yuck.” I shuddered from my shoulders to my toes. “Would you do what we do with your daughter?” I thought about the times we’d screwed by the lake. What we’d done could never be confused with love. He was sweet and loving before and after, but there was no tenderness in the act. It was all about the climax for us. He taught me things no eighteen-year-old should learn, and I rocked his world every weekend for an entire summer. “You don’t have a daughter, do you?”

  Jason reached across the table and gripped my hand. “No, I don’t have a daughter, and what we did was dirty and sexy and amazing, but I get that it’s over. You helped me through a tough summer, and I’m repaying you.”

  I hoped the relief I felt didn’t show on my face. Jason was an amazing lover, but he was my past, not my future.

  “You already helped me. You paid for my first semester of college.”

  “You saved my lonely life. I never had time to marry and settle down. When I came to Horizons, I was ready to call it quits, but you made an old man feel young again.”

  I threaded my fingers through his like we used to when we walked through the woods to our special place. “You were never old to me. You taught me that I was more than a brainless girl. You made me feel like a woman.”

  “You were never a brainless child, and at eighteen you were more of a woman than any I’d had.”

  The waitress brought our sandwiches, and we unentwined our fingers. “I had my learner’s permit, and you gave me extensive lessons.”

  Jason smeared mustard on his sandwich. “Have those lessons paid off with the dean?”

  “I’m not talking about my relationship with Mark.”

  It was probably my imagination, but the room seemed to silence at the mention of the dean. I looked around, and people were deep in conversation. No one was paying attention to our conversation. How odd that the mention of Mark made my world go silent as if he was the only man who deserved to be heard.

  “So it is a relationship.” Jason wasn’t probing for his own benefit. It appeared that he cared and wanted to know whether anything had changed since he dropped me off at my apartment.

  “I’m not sure. I really like him, but I think he likes what’s between my legs more than what sits on top of my shoulders.”

  I pulled the corned beef from my sandwich and ate it slice by slice. I loved the bread, but it loved my ass, and I didn’t need any unnecessary enhancements. At five-foot-three, I didn’t have the height of some girls, and every pound I gained went straight to the basement.

  “For a learned man, he’s not very smart.” He reached across the table and swiped up my bread. He was a man in his fifties, and the bread looked good on his broad chest and chiseled abs. Who knew an ad man could be so fit? “If he can’t see past your boobs to your brain, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

  “I thought about it all night. I made mistakes. I gave him the milk when I was selling the cow.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Just that I made having me too easy.” I pushed the potato salad around my plate, then slid the whole thing to the side of the table.

  “Is the problem that you made it too easy, or is it that he’s not open-minded enough to allow you to have him and a career?”

  Jason always asked the hard questions. I wasn’t sure what Mark thought about women and careers. He obviously wanted women to be educated, or he wouldn’t have provided me with a scholarship, but maybe he was just bartering for sex. The first deep conversation we’d had was at dinner Friday night, and that only lasted until Dan sat down and changed the subject.

  “Good question. I’m not sure. Honestly, I’m not sure if he has the capacity to like me for me, or only my body.”

  He gave me that sexy gaze he gave all the girls. The one that said, I see you for everything you are. “Give him time and make him work for it. I have a feeling Dean Hollings will come around. Now, let’s talk about the business.”

  I turned over the paper placemat and took a pen from my purse.

  “This has to be exclusive.” I wrote the word exclusive on the page right under the words concierge services.

  “Can I make some suggestions?” Jason stood and came to sit on the bench next to me.

  “I need your suggestions.” I handed him the pen and sat back, waiting to be schooled.

  “First off, it does need to be exclusive. I’d make it referral only. S
elect only men who have something to lose. That way, they’ll never talk.” He wrote the words referral only under exclusive.

  “You told me to make sure they had a certain income level. How do I know if they qualify?”

  “You have to mine your clients from a specific gold vein.” He drew a bunch of lines going in different directions. It reminded me of the picture hanging on my living room wall. Each line was labeled with a group of men:

  Financial District

  Hospitality

  Media

  Technology

  “Where do I find these people? It’s not like I have a list I can pull from.”

  Jason smiled. “You do. You work in the office of a man with the most comprehensive list of donors in the country.”

  “You want me to use the dean’s list?” Just the thought of contacting Mark’s colleagues made my stomach coil into an aching mass.

  “You don’t have to. Get one of them, and you’ll get them all.” He wrote the words trickle-down effect on the sheet.

  “I have one of them. His name is Dan, and he’s the owner of Global Financial.”

  “That’s all you need. Make his experience amazing, and he’ll do all the recruiting for you. What you have to understand about men is that we do a lot of chest-pounding, and being part of an exclusive club is like being accepted into a country club.”

  “So I treat this like a country club, with dues and expectations?”

  “Yes. The more rigid the rules, the more likely you’ll get clients. Make it painful for their pockets.” He drew several dollar signs on the page. “How many men have you heard brag about their new cars or houses and just happen to slip in the price? It’s no accident. It’s part of that chest-thumping routine that proves they’re better because they can afford more.”

  I pulled another pen from my purse and wrote five thousand dollars in the corner. “Like this much?” I pointed to the figure.

  His shoulders shook before the laugh let loose. “I’d say five times that amount to start, sweetheart.”

  I added a two in front of the five. “Lifetime fee, or yearly renewal?”

  “Do you really need to ask?” He wrote the word annual after my scribble. “Also, connect them in a way that makes camaraderie important because that’s another safety net. For example, if you make sure they’re all alumni, no one will ever tell because that would tarnish the reputation of the school. They don’t want to be associated with scandal.”

  My business model was coming together. “I can do this.”

  “You can, and I’m sure you’ll be amazing at it.”

  I looked into his slate blue eyes and saw the warmth he felt for me. He deserved someone else to lavish that on. “Do you want to mentor a coed?”

  “I already have.”

  I leaned my head on his shoulder and inhaled his cologne. It smelled like cinnamon and safety.

  “You can be my first client. I could find you a sweet, sexy thing who wants what you have to offer.”

  He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close.

  “I’ll pass. I kind of like the free-love route I’ve taken at Horizons. I don’t expect much, and not much is expected from me. Besides, I’ve grown to love alfalfa pancakes. But I will send some business your way.”

  “It’ll be some time before I’m ready to open shop. The space is nice, but it needs work, and I don’t want to open it unless it’s perfect.”

  “That’s why you’ll succeed. You’ll make sure everything is ironed out before you open the doors. Make it painful to join and painless to stay. Unless, of course, pain is your client’s thing.”

  His words sank into my soul. I could call it anything I wanted, but the expectation from these men investing thousands of dollars would be high. They’d want what they couldn’t get from other women in their lives. That could range from a simple dinner to some kind of kinky fetish.

  “I’m not negotiating the act, just the meeting.”

  “Fair enough, but you have to oversee the operation so it doesn’t get away from you.”

  “I have a lot to think about.”

  “You do.” He pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and set it on the table. “Let me get you home. I’ll bring you the lease agreement and the keys on Wednesday. Shall we have dinner again?”

  I folded the placemat and put it and the two pens in my purse. “That sounds wonderful. Will you pick me up at the office?”

  “Of course. I’d love to see Mark squirm some more.” He slid from the booth and helped me to my feet.

  “Do you not like him?” I put on my coat and walked with Jason toward the door.

  “I like him just fine. He’s a good man. But I like you more, and if he’s who you want, I’ll do my best to make that happen.”

  I pushed my shoulder into his. “You’re terrible, and I’m not sure he’s who I want.”

  “You can lie to yourself, but your cheeks flush and your eyes brighten when you talk about him. Only you know what you really want, and you have until Wednesday to figure it all out.”

  Thirty minutes later, I walked through my apartment door more confused than when I had left. The red light flashed on my answering machine. I stood with my finger on the button and hoped it was Mark. I inhaled and held my breath before I pressed it and heard his voice.

  “Sandra, call me when you get home. We need to talk.”

  My first instinct was to dial his number and listen to whatever he had to say, but I remembered Jason’s advice: Make him work for it. So instead, I made a cup of tea and sat down at my desk to formulate my business plan.

  Tomorrow, I’d meet with Jennie to set up the first meeting with Dan. It wouldn’t happen in my Fifth Avenue office, but I’d eventually get there. This was a trial run, and I’d learn everything I’d need to know from my first.

  Chapter 14

  When Mark walked in at 8:30, I was still at my desk, putting together his schedule.

  “You’re early.”

  He stalked toward me, his stubborn jaw clenched tight. “You didn’t call me back last night.”

  I stood and walked away from him toward the coffee pot. Today, I wore the black skirt with the slit at the side. The one thing I knew Mark loved was my legs. I wasn’t tall, but I had shapely legs, and he could never take his eyes off them.

  I poured his coffee and doctored it with cream and sugar the way he liked. “You have a nine o’clock with Felix Duarte, the department head of international studies.” I pushed the cup into his hand and walked past him to my desk where I picked up his schedule and started toward his office.

  He stomped behind me. His wingtips clicked angrily across the tile floor. Once inside his office, he slammed the door shut, and the wall vibrated from the force.

  “Did you screw him?”

  He sat in the submissive chair, and I took a seat in his. It was an odd juxtaposition of our roles in this relationship. He had always been the one with the power. He had what I wanted, and now that had changed. I had something he wanted, and by the expression on his face, he appeared angry and helpless in this new situation.

  I leaned back in the big leather chair and watched him. Was it jealousy I saw in his eyes? Was it rage?

  “We’re friends.”

  He leaned forward, looming large over his desk. “Friends screw friends.”

  “They do. I thought we were friends, and we used to have sex.” I was playing with fire, and I knew it, but I liked the way it made me feel. The energy of having his emotions wrapped around me was like a drug.

  “Used to?”

  I rose from his chair and met him in the center of his desk. Our faces were mere inches apart. “You treated me like a whore.” I inched closer until his minty breath filled the surrounding air. “I will no longer be your dirty little secret. I’m not your whore.”

  He pushed off the table, and before I knew it he had me pinned to the wood paneling behind his desk. His lips touched mine as he spoke. “I told you, you were my woman.”


  “You told Dan you were my mentor, not my man. There’s a difference.”

  “Did you have sex with him?”

  His anger was an eye-opening experience. Never before had a man made me shake with fear and lust at the same time. I loved the power of his possession—his almost feral desire to own me.

  I pushed at his chest, sending him back a foot. “Yes. I did.” My voice quivered, broke, and then became stronger. “I did him long and hard … four years ago, for an entire summer.”

  Mark’s eyes flashed with rage. “And last night?”

  I walked toward him and laid my hand on his chest. The heat of his anger rippled through tense muscles.

  “Last night?” I slid my hand up his chest until I cupped his chin. The scruff of his whiskers reminded me of how good they felt when they scratched the creamy smooth skin of my thighs. “Last night we ate deli sandwiches, and he dropped me off at home.” I left out the trip to the building. Mark wasn’t ready for that truth yet.

  The tension in his body fell away, and he pulled me into his arms. I laid my head against his chest. “Don’t push me away.” The soft timbre of his voice rippled over me.

  It took everything in me to separate myself from him, but I did. He needed to know he didn’t control this situation anymore. “Don’t smother me.”

  My words hit him like a brick to the head. He stumbled back and touched his chest like I’d speared him through his heart.

  “Hello?” A deep voice echoed through the door.

  We both turned toward his closed door, and I stepped away—but not before he pulled me to him and took a kiss. It wasn’t soft and loving, but more like a branding or a claiming. “This conversation isn’t finished.”

  “No, it’s not.” I turned around and walked out of his office, greeting Professor Duarte calmly, as if nothing inappropriate had happened just minutes before.

  The rest of the morning went the same as the day before. Department heads came and went until lunchtime. When Mark came out of his office, I had my coat and purse in hand.