“This one is strict about being secretive,” she said. “You know how it is with hacking, social media—it’s hard to have any privacy. From what I’ve found, they pride themselves on being discreet. This isn’t going online. It’s invitation only, but I have no doubt they’ll take you. I’ll check tonight.” She pointed down to the card. “You’ll need to present it to gain access to their building.”
“So, men like Marco are available at this agency?” I asked.
“Yes, and I would go with you, but we’re together now,” she boasted brazenly. “I didn’t meet him right away. There were other men before him—many.”
My mouth dropped open. Well, Liz was full of surprises tonight. “Many? Damn, slow down, woman.”
She lowered her head. “I’d only been with Richard. Christmas Eve would have been our tenth anniversary…” Her voice faltered.
I took her hand. Her husband Richard’s death the year before had been hard for her. I was happy she was trying to move on with her life. “I was teasing. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m fine,” she assured me. “Anyway, his name is Marco and he’s wonderful. He treats me like a queen. I would have introduced you to him, but he had a working dinner with his friend Dane Westbrook.”
“Dane?” I said in as casual a tone as I could muster. “Was that the name of the other man?”
She blotted her lip and grinned. “Saw him too, eh? You interested? I only just met him. I’m not sure he’s available, but The Agency has plenty of good-looking men. They’re sure to have whatever you might be looking for. The more detailed you are, the better the match. You can get a man that’ll take you for a picnic in the park, or you can go to the other extreme and get one who will tie you up, just like some of those erotica books you were always reading.” She giggled.
I powdered my face. “Were? Still am. You have the same books, need I remind you?” I pointed out, laughing. “I’m not interested in being treated like some personal blow-up doll.”
She laughed and said, “You don’t have to. It’s about finding what you want and exploring who you are. I’ll make the call for you. Text you later.” She moved toward the door.
“Wait, I haven’t agreed,” I called after her.
She paused in the doorway. “I know how you want to be treated, Gia. Try it out. It’s better than being lonely.”
“I don’t know…” I said. Then again, what did I have to lose? Awkward online dates and mediocre app hook-ups?
Astrid opened the bathroom door then came inside and took our arms. “Come on back to our seats, you two. The food is getting cold at the table.”
“We’re coming,” I said hurriedly, collecting my purse. Before I closed it, I took another glimpse down at the card. It was a chance for a change. I might be able to expand my prospects and find a man more compatible with me; I couldn’t just throw that away. I quickly tucked the card into my bag.
CHAPTER TWO
* * *
“This is you, Gia,” Astrid announced, bringing me out of my head and back to the limo the three of us were sharing for the ride home from the restaurant.
My thoughts were preoccupied for most of the trip, partially due to the buzz from the cocktails. It was also because of Liz’s glowing review of her experience with The Agency. Could going to a matchmaking company work the same way for me? I wasn’t convinced. It was late, so I quickly said goodbye to them with hugs and promises to get together over the holiday. I exited through the door held open for me at my new home.
Standing on the slate-paved driveway, I stared at the two-story stone and brick craftsman house with a double garage—quite the change from the sprawling governor’s mansion in Olympia. In the evening light, I took in its beauty, though the landscape was barely visible under the blanket of snow. The cypress and barberry shrubbery looked picturesque cloaked in white. The best part of it all: the peacefulness.
The second-floor master bedroom was where I headed, and it was the only one I used of the four in the house. I had updated it with a platform bed I’d ordered just before we separated. That is something I will keep, I decided after my shower. The demister was on, but still I wiped the steam off the large double mirror to finish up my cleansing routine, and I hesitated at my reflection. The thought of being naked in front of a new man made me nervous. Patrick wasn’t one to compliment me, but he always had a word to say when I didn’t meet his standards. Now, what would a new man see when I got naked for him?
My face was by far my best feature. Like my mother, I had long, arched brows that didn’t require much upkeep, dark brown eyes with long lashes, and full, well-shaped lips. My C-cup breasts were my second-best feature. Sure, I wanted a firmer tummy and buttocks, but doesn’t everyone? I’d be all right.
For the six years of our marriage, Patrick had been a rising star in politics. The job came with a team of consultants who imposed a set of restrictions to help him get ahead, and as his partner, I had to follow them too. The number one rule was not to overshadow him. Some of the limits, I complied with. I wanted him to succeed. For instance, I never wore attention-grabbing colors when we were in public. I also never wore heels because at five eight, I towered over his five-six frame. Those restrictions had become second nature, doable; the constant micromanaging—not so much. Then came the final straw: his lack of interest in having sex with me. That position—missionary, as I recalled from the three times we’d had sex in the last year—had been given to my replacement, his soon-to-be fiancée, Hannah. She was twenty-two, and only five foot two.
Of course, I had nothing against her height. My cry of foul play came from her having an affair with him while we were married. It takes two, and one was married, but she had only been the tip of his iceberg of treachery. His other mistresses I found out about after I filed for the divorce. Each one was a cut on my heart, pride, and confidence. I took the last bit of my ego I had left the day I found them together and left him.
Finishing up, I slipped on a nightgown and made a mental note to get new lingerie. I was about to plug my phone in to charge when I noticed a new text from Liz.
Liz: Marco contacted The Agency and they offered a screening appointment for tomorrow. I told them yes, sorry it’s so fast, but once it’s done you can go to the next available mixer. I can’t go, but I promise you’ll have a good time. The appointment is at 11 a.m. sharp. They send their own cars. It’ll take a few hours. Thank me later.
I shook my head and smiled. That was Liz. She wasn’t one to waste time if she could help it, but was I ready?
I sighed heavily and set my alarm for nine. Climbing into bed, I read on my Kindle for a while and then tried to masturbate. For the life of me, I couldn’t get myself to climax. My mind went to the last time I tried to have sex with Patrick.
“Harder. Fuck me harder,” I instructed. “Grab my hair.”
Patrick huffed in exertion and pulled out of me. His body was covered in sweat. “What’s your problem?”
I averted my eyes and moved onto my knees. “I just thought we’d try something different.”
“What now?” he said in a condescending tone.
I bit my lip. “How about you hold my arms while you fuck me?”
“Stop saying that word,” he said. “I am…we are having sex. You’re just being difficult.”
I sighed heavily. “I’m not trying to be.”
He stretched out on his side, facing me. “Are you trying to make me hurt you?”
“No,” I mumbled. “I just thought we could maybe spice things up a bit.”
I let my hair fall over my face to avoid the disdain on his face, though it was unavoidable in his tone. “Spice by being rough? I’m not doing that! That’s perverted.”
My stomach churned. “You mean I’m perverted?”
“I didn’t say that,” he said, rubbing my back. “Come on, give me a break. I’ve been working hard all day.”
I turned over on my back and opened my legs while he stretched out on top of m
e. He was back on autopilot, moving mechanically above me while I breathed in and waited until he cried out his climax. When he was done, he rolled over and kissed my head. “Did you come or do you need…?”
“I’m fine. It was great,” I said with a forced lift to my voice. I waited until I heard his snoring then got up and went to my bathroom.
I pulled out my vibrator from the back of my vanity drawer and placed it against my clitoris. My eyes shut tight as I slipped away, imagining the faceless man of my fantasies fucking me. He was taking me hard, controlling me, owning me.
***
I tried to find out more about this agency before I went to my meeting, but my search online came back with nothing. Though my curiosity was thoroughly piqued, I understood my experience would more than likely be different than Liz’s. After my frustrated attempt at masturbation, I wasn’t up for spending more time without company.
If The Agency resulted in nothing more than meeting a man and having good sex instead of dates, I was still game. With that in mind, I climbed into the black Mercedes that arrived at 10:30 a.m. and went to my appointment. Given the weather, I chose a scoop-neck sweater, woolen slacks, and boots, though the car ride was warm and comfortable.
Their office turned out to be just a short ride away in one of the new modern buildings in Redmond. After some security checks, I went up to the eighth floor and over to the placard that read The Agency outside of suite 801. The interior was small and made up of mostly white wood and marble furnishings. Seated behind the reception desk was an older female with horn-rimmed glasses wearing a lab coat over a white shirt. She smiled at me in greeting and requested the card Liz had given me. Once she put it away, she handed me an iPad with a screen that said Agency Member G. Ruiz Questionnaire across it.
“Please fill this out to the best of your abilities,” she instructed. “You’ll be receiving a health and psychological screen. We’re not here to judge, but the more honest you are, the easier it is to link you with like-minded partners. This includes if you are a book lover, art lover, whatever. Try to be as detailed and honest as possible so we’ll be sure to find you the right match.”
I sighed. I understood and appreciated the health screen for sexually transmitted diseases. I’d gotten one done after discovering the affair, and thankfully it had come back negative. However, I’d also been through marriage therapy, and I didn’t enjoy or want to participate in counseling again. Even so, I agreed to it. “Sure.” I glanced around the empty reception area to the side of the desk and saw only a couple of chairs. “Am I your first appointment?”
“You’re the only person here besides our staff. We only make one appointment at a time for privacy reasons.” She gestured to the corner of the room where one leather chair was available for me to sit.
“Good.” I smiled.
“After your health exam, William, one of our counselors, will meet with you to clear up any last questions you may have.”
I thanked her then sat down and scrolled through the screen. First was a non-disclosure agreement, followed by a section that asked me to select a standard set of attributes that attracted me physically. Further along, the questions became more specific.
Would you rather throw a party or attend it?
I shrugged.
Attend.
On a scale of 1-10, how would you rate yourself physically?
I grimaced. I hated that question. Too high, you’re over the top; too low, you have low self-esteem.
Seven.
Choose 3 positives to describe yourself: adventurous, sexy, calm, fun, kind, creative, devoted, insightful, sweet, affectionate.
Hmm. Calm is boring. Kind and sweet is a pushover. Affectionate and devoted is desperate.
Creative, sexy, adventurous.
Choose 3 negatives to describe yourself: stubborn, high-maintenance, moody, demanding, uncertain, impulsive, compulsive, impatient, jealous, naughty.
Do not leave blank.
Impulsive, jealous (depends), naughty.
Going to spank me?
I laughed and moved on to the next question.
How many sexual partners have you had?
I sighed.
Three.
Is there a sexual position you don’t like?
I snorted. I had no idea. My extensive experience included missionary and doggy style.
Don’t know, try me.
Have you had more than one partner at a time and did you enjoy it?
Yes. I prefer two men at a time.
I laughed and went to remove it, but it wouldn’t let me go backward.
Should I say something?
I glanced over at the receptionist, who was on the phone, but then decided to forget it. I’d just tell them later I was joking if asked. From here on out, I’d be more focused when filling in the rest of my answers.
What is your active sexual life in years? How long and how often did you have sex?
I was in a relationship for seven years. We had sex three times a week the first year and progressively less over the years. We had sex three times the whole of the last year.
What is more important, physical attraction or personality?
I hesitated. The question was too vague. I had to be attracted to him, but I didn’t want a wimp. I chose looks, but also wrote in the Other section.
I like a combination of both.
I laughed. I sure was making a tall order, but then looks were subjective. What attracts one person may not attract another. The next question went into more detail.
What turns you on more, being in control or giving up control?
I was used to being in control. I had run Patrick’s campaigns, and now I ran my own company. I wasn’t as experienced in the bedroom and wouldn’t mind having a more dominant partner there. I clicked on Other and wrote a quick explanation in the box.
I run a business and wouldn’t want to be controlled all the time. I would consider sexual control only.
Have you ever tried role-play, spanking, bondage, breath-play, watersports, scat, whips…?
The list went on, and most I’d have to look up, but for now my answer was easy.
No.
From the list above, which one piques your curiosity?
This was my moment. I could answer No interest or Willing to try a few new things. On the other hand, I didn’t want to be thrown into the deep end. Therefore, I selected Other once again.
I don’t like extreme humiliation or severe pain. I’m not ready for anything too far out of the mainstream.
After all, you must walk before you run. I doubted there would ever be such a match that would get me to entertain surrendering so much of myself.
How do you feel about enclosed spaces?
I don’t mind.
How do you feel about being restrained?
I paused at that one. Where on the spectrum did I fall? Better to be cautious.
I wouldn’t be a match for anyone into anything extreme. That means not past silk scarves on my wrists.
Have you watched porn or read erotica?
I smirked. Hasn’t everyone? It then went into detail on how much I read, how often, and what turned me on. I didn’t believe myself to be dirty, but I didn’t know what kind of partner I would attract with these answers. My mind wrestled with my honesty, but I answered close to the truth.
Often.
Are you embarrassed by these questions?
I laughed a little.
Yes.
I completed the rest of the questions and handed over the iPad. A staff member took me back to a physical exam room for a health screen for drugs and sexually transmitted diseases. The screen included a request for me to list all forms of birth control used in the present and past. I had been on the pill since I was seventeen and had done a physical during my divorce, but they were adamant about doing their own. I appreciated their care toward clients’ health, sexual and otherwise, and complied. Then I was taken next door to a small dimly lit office with tw
o overstuffed cushioned chairs. William, an older male in a white lab coat and designer slacks, greeted me before I took a seat. “How did you find our process?” he asked.
“A bit more detailed than I expected,” I admitted.
He tilted his head. “You expected something else?”
“No, not really. I only heard about The Agency yesterday,” I said. “From my friend.”
The skin around his eyes crinkled. “Must have been some friend. It’s rare we allow a meeting so quickly. Perhaps I should explain what we are first. At its core, The Agency is a matchmaking service. Some come for relationships, lifestyle changes, fantasies, revelations, revitalizations,” he said. “What about you?”
I nervously ran my hands down my arms before returning them to my lap. “I was hoping to meet someone new—a date perhaps.”
“A new friend-lover?” he asked.
I nodded. “I’d say a new friend-lover is close to what I’m looking for. I’m not looking to marry again. I’m only recently divorced.”
He nodded. “You don’t have to answer that definitively now. Your answers today will help us populate the mixer with matches suitable for you.”
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