by Candice Dow
“Those pictures are on the Web?”
“Calm down. The website is secure, everything is encrypted. Nobody is going to see these pictures who isn’t supposed to see them. You can’t download or copy them. You know me, London. Whatever you’re concerned about, I’ve already handled.”
“I believe that.”
He opened a folder titled THE DOG TRAINER and my jaw dropped to the ground. I covered my mouth, slightly flattered but mostly puzzled.
“Thorne, I hope you don’t plan on showing these to clients. They’ll be disappointed when the real me shows up.”
He laughed, “London, what makes you think you look any different in person than you look in these pictures?”
“I look in the mirror every day and I certainly don’t see her.”
“Listen, you’re too hard on yourself. I’m a man and I’m telling you that you look exactly the same.”
“If you say so, but I’m not comfortable with you showing these.”
“Too late, you’ve gotten a bunch of requests in the past twenty-four hours.”
My palms started to sweat. I felt pressured by the image he was selling. It was like false advertisement.
“Thorne, I just don’t know.”
“Look, I’ve been doing this for a long time. You’ll be fine. So let’s talk about your schedule. How often do you want to work?”
“Twice a week, I guess.”
“London, you don’t have a job, you can do better than that.”
“I just don’t want to wear my body out, if you know what I mean.”
He laughed. “I’ve never had that problem.”
I smiled to appease him but I didn’t find that funny. He’d lured me into this using his body and I wondered if that was how he recruited everyone. I wondered how many women he slept with in one week and how he could in turn trade them for sex. He was no doubt a damn Rottweiler.
“At this time, I would prefer no more than two, maximum three a week.”
“I gotchu. I was just messing with you. You tell me how much you want to work and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“I understand.”
“I have someone on hold for tomorrow. You up for that?”
I shrugged.
“Listen, let me know.”
“I guess so.”
He typed into his laptop. “Okay, that’s at six tomorrow evening. Downtown. Also, the football player wants to see you again.”
“Really?” I said, blushing momentarily, as much work as a night with him had been.
“He’ll be in Miami this weekend if you don’t mind flying down. I have to talk to him, but I think it’s a two-day job.”
“So how does that work?”
“What, the two-day job?”
“I mean, am I supposed to book my own flight and am I supposed to stay with him for two days?”
“They pay for travel. I book it through my travel agency. You just show up. If they request multiple days, the assumption is they are taking care of you. You’re staying with them or in a room they provide.”
He sure knew how to milk every dime out of every angle of a transaction. It amazed me how organized he was with everything.
“So is the booking fee more for multiple days?”
He looked at me, shaking his head, and seconds passed before he spoke. “London, you ask a lot of questions. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you wanted my job.”
“No, I’m just curious.”
“I like curious. And to answer your question, I get a little more off the top for multiple days.”
After a long pause he said, “So, can I book you for this weekend?”
I wasn’t too excited about being stabbed with the football player’s machete for forty-eight hours straight. Taking a deep breath, I said, “Let me think about that for a minute.”
Raising his eyebrow, he demanded a confirmation. Although that guy was hard to handle, he certainly compensated well. So I agreed.
The next evening I headed downtown to meet a man by the name of TC. Thorne didn’t tell me his profession, but I trusted that I was in good hands. When I arrived at the small boutique hotel on Massachusetts Avenue I decided to take the stairs to the room. After checking my hair and makeup in the hallway mirror, I knocked softly on the door. My lip gloss glistened just like I liked it. The door swung open and I was surprised to be greeted an overly uptight man. He was stiff in every sense of the word. It was quite shocking because my first two clients had been just like animals and it had been no surprise to me that they would pay for sex. This man on the other hand looked like he went strictly by the book. His nervous energy was instantly transferred to me. While I almost tensed up, I quickly thought, What would I do to make a nervous dog feel comfortable?
I ran my hand softly down his jawline and smiled. Speaking in a soft voice, I said, “Hey.”
In a quivery tone, he said, “How are you?”
His dialect was proper and his thin red lips almost appeared not to move. If I had heard him before seeing him, there is no way I would believe he was a black man. His light-colored face was sprinkled with brown freckles. He had short brown hair and was about six feet even. His thin frame looked like it had been years since he’d seen food. He was neglected, but obviously very successful. I reached out to hug him and I don’t know why that was my first reaction. He did the stand-steps-away-and-pat hug. I pulled him toward me so we could be chest-to-chest. He was hesitant, but after holding him tightly I could feel his limbs relaxing.
“Thank you,” he said, pulling away.
There was something quite innocent about him. I pinched his cheek and he blushed. When I noticed he’d had a drink on the nightstand, I asked what it was. He smiled, “Ah, it’s Rémy. Do you want some?”
I’d never tasted Rémy but I anxiously nodded yes. He poured a little in a glass and handed it to me. I reached for his hand to interlock my fingers. I swallowed, and the liquid filling my mouth felt like gasoline. I tastelessly spit it out. My tongue hung out of my mouth. He completely loosened up as he laughed at me losing my cool. We hugged each other and he said, “First time drinking Rémy?”
“Yes.”
“I guess we’re both experiencing firsts tonight.”
He confirmed what I already knew. I tilted my head and looked into his small eyes. “It’s your first time, huh?”
A piece of me wondered why Thorne hadn’t sent a bodyguard with me like he’d promised he’d do when I served new clients. Then, as I looked into the timid eyes of this man, I wondered if Thorne assumed he was harmless too. He said, “Yes.”
“What made you decide to do this?” I asked before sitting on the bed.
I reached out for his hand, requesting that he sit beside me. He slouched down. “Stress.”
I massaged the nape of his neck. “It’s okay. Whatever it is. You know?”
He nodded. “I owe a lot of people a lot of money.”
Why the hell would you blow the money you have on a one-night stand? “Are they after you?”
“No, not right now. I’m going to make the money back. Somehow.”
His head hung like that of an honest man ashamed of what he’d done. I stroked his earlobe, a relaxing technique that I use with dogs. “I’m sure you will. I believe you can do it.”
He perked up and looked like he wanted to lick me for the praise. I smiled graciously back at him. “Watch. This time next year, promise me that you’ll meet me here again and tell me how you made the money you owed back.”
Laughing, he asked, “Do I need to wait until next year to see you again?”
“Of course not, you just have to make the arrangements and I’ll be here.”
“Wow, I really needed that.”
“What? To know we can hook up again?”
“No, the encouragement.”
“Oh, that comes with the deal.”
It seemed like a dark cloud hovered over him again as he began to speak. “It’s been a long time since my wi
fe said anything positive to me.”
“What do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I’m an attorney.” He paused. “And promise me your secrecy.”
“That’s a part of the deal too,” I said, trying not to sound too eager to know more.
“I’m also a politician.”
“So are you concerned about the people you owe or your reputation?”
“Both.”
I placed my hands softly on each side of his jaw. “Don’t worry. Everything is going to be okay.” I waited for him to look in my eyes and repeated, “Okay.”
He smiled bashfully. “You think so?”
“I know it will.”
TC looked at me with such gratitude and said, “Thank you so much.”
“It’s nothing.” I could just feel that he was a good guy and he cared what people thought of him. So I said, “You seem like a really great guy and when you do your best, things always work out.”
“I wish someone would tell my wife that.”
“You want me to call her?” I asked jokingly.
“Please don’t. She would never let me live this down. No matter what I do, it’s just never good enough.”
“I think you’re good enough. The fact that you care about what people think makes you good.”
“Yeah, my wife used to feel that way too.”
“Really?”
“When we first met, she’d always tell me that I was the good guy. And good guys always end up on top.”
He blushed as he reminisced. I said, “I bet she still feels that way.”
“Naw. Not anymore.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been married?”
“Twenty-six years.”
“What? When’d you get married? At sixteen?”
He smiled. “No, I’m fifty-two years old.”
“Wow, you don’t look a day over forty,” I said, lying.
While I’m certain he was flattered, he dismissed my compliment. “Sure. Anyway, I’m certain she thinks I’m a jerk.”
“Why do you think that?”
“She thinks that she’s the brains behind my success. Her parents funded my law degree. She’s pretty much the reason we have all that we have and she never lets me forget it.”
“I’m sure you had something to do with it.”
“Sometimes I feel like I’m just a puppet.”
“No, you seem strong and smart to me.”
“Thanks. I really needed that.”
“Do you still love her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think she still loves you?”
“Probably not. It seemed like she did until both of the kids left for college.”
“How long has that been?”
“Three years ago. It seems like she was pretending to respect me while the kids were there because that’s what she was supposed to do, but when my son went to college, she seemed to take out all her extra anxiety on me. I think before then she was busy with the kids so she didn’t pay me much attention. Now all she sees is what I do wrong and if this dilemma I’m in ever comes to light, she’ll never let me live it down.”
“Why don’t you relax?”
I loosened his tie and told him to lie back on the bed. I lay beside him and unbuttoned his shirt. As I ran my hands across his bird chest, I tried to tell him everything would be okay.
He continued to talk. “Everything we have, we built it together. All of our businesses have been joint ventures.”
“I understand.”
“But if you ask her, I would have nothing without her.”
“I bet that’s not true.”
“Hell no, it’s not true.”
That was the first time since I’d been there that TC had expressed any aggression. He was tired and he was frustrated.
“I understand. It’s going to be okay. You just have to make her respect you again.”
“How do I do that?”
“You know dogs have a clear understanding of which dog is the leader of the pack and they respect that dog’s role. But there are times when the leader is challenged by a dog in his pack, a dog that feels like he deserves that role. The alpha dog either puts that dog in his place or the other dog has to go. You’re going to have to start carrying yourself with authority. She doesn’t respect you because you’re not acting like a pack leader but you want to be treated like one.”
“But I’ve never been extremely aggressive.”
“So how’d you become a politician?”
“I ran a campaign. But she was the brains behind it.”
“And you were the face of it. Don’t minimize your role. You guys are a team, but right now she’s the team leader. If you want to get your respect back, you have to demand it.”
I wasn’t certain if I was giving this man the right advice, but it seemed to be making him feel better. And that was my job, to make him feel like a leader even if he could never live up to the role. He thought he just needed a fling, but clearly he needed female encouragement. He’d been beaten down for way too long. I stood up and asked if he wanted me to top off his drink.
I made vodka and orange juice and he sat up to sip the drink I’d made him. He continued to open up to me. I could tell he felt a strong connection to me as he revealed more and more of his secrets. I vowed that I would never tell and obviously I’d done a pretty good job gaining his trust.
We lay back on the bed and he wrapped me in his fragile arms as we talked for several hours longer. Finally he held me tighter and said, “I had the best time that I’ve had in a long time.”
“But we didn’t even do anything,” I said.
“You know it’s hard to really find someone you feel comfortable talking to. Sometimes you get tired of living a lie. Sometimes you just want to tell the truth. Sometimes you want to say you’re scared.”
“Are you scared?”
“Scared that if I fail or if people find out the truth about me that I will disappoint so many people. That’s very scary.”
“I can imagine, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the real you. You’re probably harder on yourself than anyone.”
He leaned in for a kiss. “You’re probably right.”
I stroked his back, assuming he was about ready to get it on. He said, “It’s been a complete pleasure.”
He stood up and walked over to the dresser. I sat at the edge of the bed and he handed me some money. That was a typical sign that the date was over. I was confused. “Are we done?”
“Yes, and thank you so much.”
Not that I was really interested in doing anything further, but I needed to be clear on this. “But nothing happened.”
“Everything that I needed to happen happened.”
He reached for a hug and held me tightly like I was his best friend. I’d been everything he needed for the few hours I was there. I wondered if a platonic date had been his intention from jump. We embraced for what seemed like five minutes and I kissed his cheek. He walked me to the door and looked forever grateful for my visit. That’s when it first dawned on me that while sex is a priority for some men, there are many others who despite all the money in the world don’t have anyone to confide in. It was my first of such encounters, but not my last.
Those were the ones who gave my job reason. It made me feel like I was helping people. I went home that night feeling like I’d done something worthwhile and I was excited about my next experience. The different personalities I had experienced in just three short dates left me hungry to learn more about men and how easy it was to train them.
14
Thorne e-mailed the itinerary for Miami the day before I was supposed to leave. He hadn’t even called to find out if I’d made it home from my last date. Nor had I been able to get him on the phone. It felt as if I had been coerced into the situation with gentle words and affection; now I was being treated like just another employee. I quickly responded to the message: “He
y Thorne, am I supposed to check into the hotel using my credit card or am I supposed to call him when I get there?”
My phone rang barely five seconds after I pressed SEND. Thorne cleared his throat before speaking. “London Bridge… how are you?”
“How are you?”
“Why do you sound like that?”
“No reason. I called you earlier.”
“I was busy.”
“How did you know I didn’t need anything?”
“London, we’re not about to turn this into an interrogation. Now if you have questions about this weekend, I’m all ears.”
A huge lump sat in my throat because I wasn’t sure I could swallow his ice-cold tone. “So when I get to Miami, what should I do?”
“Go to the hotel. Give your name at the front desk and your room should already be taken care of. If not, just give me a call.”
“Okay,” I said, letting the word linger a little longer than necessary.
“You good?”
“Yeah, for the most part.”
“I’m on my way to a meeting. If I don’t talk to you, have a safe trip.”
After he hung up I held the phone in my hand, staring at the blank screen. Our conversation felt almost like he was trying to pull away from me. It didn’t feel good.
As if he knew that I was questioning going and if I should even continue in the profession, Thorne called about an hour before I was supposed to be at the airport.
“London Bridge,” he said cheerfully.
“Hi, Thorne.”
“You need a ride to the airport?”
“No thanks. I’ll just park in satellite.”
“Okay. You sure?”
“Positive.”
“Let’s hook up when you get back.”
I assumed Thorne dedicated a lot of time to the prey of the week, but once he caught it was on to the next one. As I packed the last of my things, I concluded that maybe that was just the nature of the business. How could I expect him to spend countless hours with me? He’d been doing this long before he met me.
I didn’t want Kari in my business so I didn’t ask her to keep Bruno; instead I headed to the kennel to drop him off. When we arrived he began whining as soon as we entered. He was trying to pull me back toward the door. As I was signing him in, the girl at the front desk came around to pet him and he seemed to settle down. That made me feel a little better as I prepared to hand my baby over. It was the first time he’d been with strangers. Finally I walked backward toward the door and she took him to the back with the other dogs.
