Snow and the 7 Hunks: A Contemporary Fairy Tale Romance

by R. R. Banks

  “None,” Fawn told me, her face suddenly serious. “Each man that I bring into the retreat is only assigned to one woman. I maintain a database of applications and background information for men who are interested in being a part of the experience, and when a woman comes here, I select the men who correspond to her needs.”

  “Are they actors?”

  I wasn’t sure if that idea bothered me or not. On one hand, it seemed that professional actors would be able to make the experience as realistic as possible, but on the other it could end up being incredibly awkward and part of me hated the idea of feeling like I was being pandered to.

  “Absolutely not,” Fawn told me. “Even though your experiences with these men are limited, I can assure you that everything that happens is completely by choice. They are not given instructions for what to do or say or how to interact with you. These are real men and the time that you spend together is as real as if the two of you met in a bar or through friends or on a dating app. The only thing that’s different is that you know these men have been carefully screened, are safe, and know that they are there for you rather than trying to get anything for themselves out of the date. Of course, that doesn’t mean that they won’t enjoy having sex with you if you choose.”

  “If I choose?”

  Fawn looked at me strangely.

  “Of course. This is your experience, Snow. Just because the men will be chosen for you doesn’t mean that you have to do anything with them. You might not be attracted to them. You might not like their personality or the date that they bring you on. If that’s the case, that’s fine. You just let them know that you are done for the day and they will bring you back here and leave. No hurt feelings. No negative thoughts. This is stress relief and personal discovery, not an obligation. If you are interested, however, you can do, say, and experience anything that you please with these men. They will only say and do what is natural and real for them, so you can trust the authenticity of every moment that you spend with them.”

  “When is my first date?”

  Fawn smiled again.

  “It will take me a little time to go through the men I have on file and select the ones who are right for you. For the next day or two, I invite you to stay here, relax, enjoy some pampering. When I have chosen your first date, I will let you know.”

  I liked the sound of just enjoying the retreat for a couple of days, even if the anticipation of meeting the first man who Fawn chose for me might keep me from really being able to relax. Fawn and I spoke for a few more minutes about my taste in men and the types of activities I enjoyed. After giving her what was likely far less information than she would have wanted, I headed back to my room. I felt suddenly tired, as if the tension that was coiled tightly within me had started to release, leaving me relaxed but sleepy. When I stepped into my room the man who brought me my breakfast and who had been in the cottage was placing a large platter of fruit on the table. I immediately felt heat come to my cheeks thinking about our brief interaction in the cottage, but he didn’t react as though anything had happened between us. I didn’t know how to react to him or if I should mention our brief but powerful encounter. The longer that he went without acknowledging the cottage, the more I started questioning if it had even happened and soon I came to the conclusion that I must have imagined him there.

  Or it was another man and I just superimposed this man’s face onto him.

  “Thank you,” I said as he finished arranging the platter and straightened to start toward the door.

  “You’re welcome,” he said. “I hope you enjoy it.”

  He stepped past me, but I called out to stop him just before he left the room.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  He turned and looked at me as if he wasn’t sure that he had actually heard me ask the question.

  “Noah,” he finally said.

  “Hi, Noah,” I said. “I’m Snow.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You, too.”

  He started for the door again.

  “Everything has been really delicious,” I said.

  Noah turned and I saw a slight sparkle in his vibrant green eyes. He gave a single nod.

  “I’m glad that you liked it,” he said.

  There was a short pause and then he turned and left. It was reassuring to know his name. At least there was a sense of connection now that made it somewhat less strange that he came into my room several times a day. Not to mention the delectable long lick that made me tremble even though I was still trying to put it out of my mind.

  For the next two days, I spent my time relaxing in my room, reading through some of the books that were displayed on a shelf across from the bed, and visiting the spa rooms that I discovered positioned throughout the cottage. Though I tried to keep myself distracted, every few minutes I found myself thinking about the date that was coming. I didn’t know what to expect. Fawn had told me that I would find out about my date soon before it happened and that I should just go along with the information and instructions that I received. That was a somewhat intimidating suggestion, but I agreed. I had already committed myself to going through with this every step of the way and I figured that that meant letting myself get taken away by whatever date the men had planned for me.

  I was starting to feel as though Fawn had gone through what paltry information I was able to give her and decided that she wasn’t going to be able to help me when I finally heard a quick knock on my door. I knew that it couldn’t be Noah, since he never knocked and had a few times now walked in on me in partial undress or while I was in a bath. Feeling suddenly nervous, I hesitated to approach the door. Finally, I took a few steps toward it and turned the handle. A large white box sat on the floor with a note secured to the top with red ribbon. I leaned down to pick it up and scurried back into my room, closing the door quickly as if protecting whatever it was that was waiting for me in the box. Settling onto the edge of the bed, I rested the box beside me and slipped the envelope out from under the ribbon. I opened the envelope and pulled out a thick white notecard.

  “Take me out to the ballgame.”

  “That’s it?” I asked the card.

  I tossed it aside and untied the bow so that I could take the top off of the box and look into it.

  Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

  I felt incredibly ridiculous walking out of the cottage in preparation for a date wearing the black stretch pants, tight white tank top, miniature baseball jersey, and tennis shoes that had been waiting for me in the box. Usually getting ready for a date would have required hoping that I would fit into a dress, squeezing into heels that might be too tight but looked too good for it to matter, and teasing my hair to the point that it may justify turning me into the antibullying groups. It was an ordeal that took a few hours. Preparing for this date took less than half an hour, several minutes of which were taken up trying to keep a curl in my ponytail. There was a somewhat anticlimactic feel to stepping out of the cottage now, as if I had built myself up so much for this elaborate fantasy date and now didn’t feel like my sprucing-up ritual had really justified the date.

  The same white limo that had picked me up from my house to bring me to The Enchanted Woods was waiting for me outside and I allowed the chauffer to help me into the back seat. We drove away from the cottage without him saying anything and I let the silence remain for several minutes.

  “Have you worked for Fawn for long?” I finally asked.

  “Six years.”

  “So, she doesn’t cycle out drivers like she does dates.”

  I had meant it more to myself, but he heard me.

  “No.”

  “Have you ever brought another woman to a date like this?” I asked.

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  “Oh, good.”

  I turned and looked out the window, watching the scenery as it went by. We left the quiet peacefulness of the wooded area around the cottage and started down a larger road that
quickly turned into a highway. We had been traveling for nearly half an hour when we entered the city and turned onto a smaller street that led into the back lot of a minor league baseball stadium. The limo pulled to a stop and I suddenly felt a flock of butterflies swarm into my belly. They flew around frantically, some seeming to try to get up my throat. I didn’t want to get out of the car. As long as I stayed right where I was, all of this could stay just a fantasy, just an abstract idea of something that I could do to improve myself. I wouldn’t actually have to face the man who was waiting for me or push myself out of my comfort zone as much as I had promised myself, and Fawn, that I was going to do.

  The door to the limo opened and the chauffeur peered in at me.

  “We’re here,” he said.

  I nodded.

  “I noticed.” I took a deep breath and blew it out. “Alright. Here I go.”

  I stepped out of the car and looked toward the stadium.

  “Lee will be waiting for you inside,” the driver said.

  “Thank you.”

  I started toward the stadium feeling slightly unsteady on my feet. I couldn’t remember the last time that I had even been to a baseball game much less did any type of activity that involved baseball. The outfit that was sent to me was worrisome and I had the sinking feeling that I was going to be expected to participate in something athletic. I crossed the small amount of the parking lot and passed through the first arched door that I saw. It led me into a wide corridor studded with concessions stands and merchandise booths all advertising the local team. There was an eeriness about how empty and quiet the stadium was and I felt glued to my spot. A few moments later I heard the slight crackle of an announcement system coming on.

  “Good evening, Snow. I will meet you at the beer stand.”

  Elegant.

  I was feeling that I might need to take advantage of Fawn’s reminder that what happened on the date was up to me and that I could request to go back to the retreat at any time when I turned the corner and in the direction that the signs on the wall sent me and saw the man standing in front of the beer stand. Clad in the tight pants and buttoned jersey of a baseball uniform, he was leaned back against the counter with a tall cup of beer in either hand. He held one out to me as I approached.

  “My name is Lee,” he said as I took the beer from him.

  I knew that that wasn’t his real name. It was an alias that had been assigned to him by Fawn. It fit him, though, and it didn’t even occur to me to wonder what his real name might be. It did, however, make me wonder why Fawn insisted that the men change their names but she was permitted to keep hers.

  “Snow,” I said, accepting the beer. “Thanks.”

  He gave a single nod and brought his own cup to his lips for a sip. I followed his lead, sipping some of the malty foam into my mouth first and then tipping the cup further to take a full sip. It was a darker brew than I would have expected to be sold at a baseball stadium, but I supposed things might have changed in the years that it had been since I had been anywhere near such a stadium. I took another sip and then brought the cup down to hold it in front of me, staring at him expectantly. I knew that he was supposed to have planned a date for us, and I hoped that standing in an empty stadium drinking beer wasn’t it.

  That would most certainly not be one of my fantasies, if I had any.

  “As you might have guessed,” he said, “I’m a baseball player.”

  “I gathered that,” I said.

  He took another sip from his cup and then turned to put it on the counter behind him before reaching for mine. I gave it to him and he put it in place with his.

  “I thought that tonight we could have a little fun on the field,” he said.

  I now knew for certain that the decidedly un-datelike clothing that had been sent to me had been selected to ensure that I was able to move easily. It was intimidating to think about. I prided myself in being many things, but sporty was not one of them. It wasn’t that I was the kind of person who would fall over my own feet when walking down the street, but I also wasn’t going to be the first one chosen for a team if a spontaneous game of dodgeball broke out somewhere. I was thankful then that this date was not with a man who I had been lusting after or even knew. It would be too embarrassing to even contemplate attempting to be athletic if I was also trying to impress a man who I was attracted to. That thought struck me, and I smiled, understanding more now what Fawn intended when she created the retreat.

  Lee started toward the field and I followed him. We stepped through the arch that led to one of the towering flights of steps that rippled through the seats positioned on tiers around the diamond. It looked cavernous, far larger than anything that I remembered. We walked down the steps and out of a gate that led down onto the field.

  “What position do you play?” I asked.

  I knew that it was a relevant question, even though no response would have had any significance to me. I was only ever a casual baseball watcher and had never really caught on to all of the nuances of the game.

  “Catcher,” he said, “and Designated Hitter.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  We were walking through the dirt of the infield out toward the grassy expanse of the outfield and when we got there, he sat down.

  “That means that if a player who doesn’t have very good batting skills comes up to the plate or the team is down and really needs a score, I take the batter’s place and hit for them. We’ll do a little practice in a bit and see if you could be a DH, but first we have to stretch. I nodded and followed his lead as Lee guided me through a series of stretches. It felt awkward at first, but soon I found myself settling into the process, pressing deeper into the positions, and feeling my body start to come awake. I stretched my legs out in front of me and reached forward to grasp my toes. A moment later I felt Lee walk around behind me and his hands come to the center of my back. He applied pressure, easing me deeper into the stretch. It burned in my hips, but I held it.

  When Lee released the pressure, he placed his hands on my ribs and guided me around to lie on my back.

  “Bend your knees,” he said.

  I complied and he grasped one of my ankles, picking my foot up off of the ground. He straightened my leg and pressed it straight up, then starting guiding it toward my face. His body rose up slightly to create leverage as he continued to press my leg. Though we were both dressed, the suggestiveness of the movement didn’t escape me. I felt like my body was waking up even more and I focused in on the feeling, wanting more. Lee had me switch legs and I tried to stretch further this time. Just when I felt that I couldn’t go any further, he released my leg.

  “Your turn to help me now,” he said.

  Lee put the soles of his feet together and leaned forward.

  “Press down on my back,” he said.

  I got behind him and pressed down. He barely moved.

  “I don’t think I’m strong enough,” I said.

  “Then lay on me.”

  I turned around and rested my back on his.

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “Go ahead.”

  I pressed into the ground with my feet, stretching out over Lee so that I could press him further down into his stretch. The warmth of his body seeped through his uniform even in the cool air of the late afternoon and I felt attraction building. We continued stretching for a few more minutes before he told me it was time for batting practice. I surprised myself at actually feeling excited about the new experience and followed him to a cage on the far side of the field. A bat was lying on the ground and Lee leaned down to pick it up.

  “Have you ever done this before?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “OK. Well, you hold it like this.”

  He demonstrated the grip on the bat and the stance of a batter. My eyes drifted over to the way that his tight pants cupped around his round, muscled ass and I smiled in appreciation. I didn’t care what he wanted to teach me, I was happy to lear
n if I got to keep looking at him in his uniform. He straightened and held the bat out toward me. I accepted it and tried to take the same position that he had assumed. A slight smile came to his lips and he stepped up behind me. His body molded to my back and he wrapped his arms around me, his hands coming over mine to adjust my grip and the position of my body. He helped me take a few practice swings and then stepped away from me. He pressed a button and the small yellow machine at the far end of the cage whirred to life before spitting a ball at me.

  I shrieked and jumped out of the way, watching as the ball zoomed past me and smacked into a net behind me. Lee laughed and took me by my shoulders, guiding me back into the batting position. I braced myself, waiting for the ball, but when it came, I jumped out of the way again. Pressing my hand to my erratically beating heart, I turned to Lee.

  “You know what? Let’s pretend that I hit it really, really well,” I said.

  “OK,” he said through his continued laughter. He came toward me and took the bat out of my hands, dropping it back to the ground. “If you hit the ball really, really well, that means that it’s time to run the bases.”

  “That’s something I think that I can handle.”

  Lee guided me out of the cage and back to the infield. We stood on home plate and he pointed toward first.

  “That’s first base,” he said, “you go there – “

  “Tag! You’re It,” I said, tapping him on the shoulder and starting at the fastest pace that I could toward the base.

  “That’s not the way it works!” Lee protested, but when I looked back over my shoulder at him, he was chasing me.

  I jumped onto the base and turned, starting toward second. He was gaining on me and I felt his hand touch my back.

  “Got you,” he said.

  I turned around laughing and shrugged.

  “I guess I’m not going to be a very big help to the team.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Lee said. “Let’s try again. We’ll run them together this time.”