I picked her folder back up and moved it to a different pile. The rejected pile.
Mandy Harbringer, twenty-nine, married one time, yoga instructor. Her divorce had hit her hard; her husband had cheated on her with her best friend and the two had eloped. When she recounted the story, she fought back tears even as she told me she was over it. Her father had a dozen patents related to rocket propulsion technology and they were incredibly wealthy as a result.
Mandy had a graduate degree in psychology, but didn’t follow through to practice. Yoga had called her and she ended up opening up her own studio, a modest establishment that only took donations. Her blond hair had been tied back and it looked as though she was without a single ounce of fat on her body.
“Aside from yoga, what are some of your interests?” I had asked her.
“I really feel a calling towards animals. I’m a vegan and volunteer at the local ASPCA,” she had said brightly.
Leon Christensen and a vegan yoga instructor, the prospects didn’t look good. I tossed the folder into the rejected pile. Plus, Leon seemed the type to want a girl with more of a figure, not the thin and sinewy type.
I sorted through a few more folders with clients that were all horrible mismatches. One woman had three cats and was unwilling to part with any of them. Leon seemed more like a dog type of guy. Another was looking to have kids within one year and settle down in a house outside of the city. I could just imagine her crawling along the floor with a huge baby bump dragging along the carpet.
I tossed folder after folder into the rejected pile. After lunch, I walked over the massive pile to April to be reorganized and filed. I returned to my office and read through more files. I even read through old files of clients that had ceased to use our services, hoping to find any lead.
I went home without finding anyone. My brain was focused in on the goal at hand, and my lustful thoughts abated for the evening. I was able to relax, but my mind kept returning to the task of setting up Leon Christensen and I gave myself at least a few gray hairs trying to figure out just what type of partner would be best suited for him.
The next day, I reached the end of the pile. I was not to be defeated though. I pulled up the numbers of other matchmaking companies that we were on good terms with. Often, we would turn to each other for especially difficult clients in hopes of finishing the contract. There was a commission paid to the other company, and both clients were satisfied.
I rang Beating Hearts Matchmakers and when the receptionist answered, I had her patch me through to Amanda Rand, the head of the company.
“Amanda, how are you?” I asked.
“I’m well, Julie. I take it you’ve got a difficult one on your hands?” she asked, laughing.
“Something like that, can you fax me over your female clients between the ages of twenty-four and forty. You can weed out the gold diggers and baby boomers right off the bat. I’ll pay normal commission, of course.”
“You’ve got it, Julie. You wanna do drinks soon?”
We agreed to meet for drinks the following week and exchanged a few more words before I hung up. Amanda was an old friend of mine and I had even given her some tips when she started her business. Her rates were lower than my own, so her clients were of a different financial bracket and we weren’t really in competition.
By the end of the day, April had arranged and presented me with the files that had been faxed over from a few other agencies. April had called the other companies for me; I had only made the personal call to Amanda since I enjoyed talking to her. With the pile before me, I decided to start fresh the next day.
The following day was exactly like the previous forays in studying the clients.
A professional thirty-nine year old brunette who didn’t like Thai food. Her file found its way into the rejected pile.
A stunningly beautiful model who traveled extensively for her work. Leon was too grounded in his nightclub operations for that. Rejected.
One client was a teetotaler. The rejected pile grew higher.
Another woman, a twenty-six year old entrepreneur who specialized in nightclub promotion and blogging caught my eye. But when I read over her folder, there was just something about her that gave me a feeling that she wasn’t right for Leon Christensen. Sure, her favorite foods were Thai and she worked in nightclubs, but there was much more to a relationship than that. Plus, she was a little too thin. Leon needed a woman with curves.
Day three of the search for Leon Christensen’s partner ended without any kind of lead. I had even resorted to calling ex-clients and asking them if they knew anybody who would want to come in for a consultation, free of charge. There were a few leads and appointments were made, but I was still staring at piles of folders that seemed to have mixed in with each other to the point that I couldn’t differentiate which pile was which.
I was being extremely picky, sure, but it was only because I needed to nail this one. There couldn’t be the slightest margin of error. Satisfied that I had rejected all of these women for the right reasons, I left the office, my head aching from reading so many files so many times. When I went to bed that night, images of various women swam in my head, making it nearly impossible to fall asleep.
I woke up from a restless sleep, feeling like the gravity in my bedroom was thicker than normal. I felt hung over, despite having not had one drink the previous night. As a younger woman, I could drink all night and sleep for a few hours and as long as I had a greasy breakfast, I bounced back within an hour. Now, if I went to sleep with something on my mind I woke up feeling as if I just got off a two day bender.
I drank too much coffee in an attempt to compensate for my fatigue and my stomach felt acrid with the overflow of black coffee. On my way into work, I drove in silence as my mind raced on, trying to figure out how to solve this problem of finding Leon Christensen a partner.
Why was I so determined to find him a partner immediately? Wouldn’t it be better to give it a few days, let some former clients get back to me with some new leads while I went over my female case files one more time? Surely I may have been a little too harsh on some of the prospective clients.
Perhaps one or two of them deserve to be called in for an interview. Yet when I thought about any of them actually going on a date with Leon, his good looks melting their hearts along with his irresistible charm spreading their legs, I felt a wave of apprehension. I would interview them again, yes, but it was too premature to set up any sort of meeting or date.
At my desk, the stress of finding Leon Christensen a partner lessened, but a new feeling of hopelessness filled the void it left. Leon was a unique case that was proving much harder than any of my other clients. Within the first week I usually had at least one or two prospective partners to match a client with. With Leon, I had none.
I checked emails. I made some phone calls to some other clients about their cases. For two hours I did any and all work that was unrelated to Leon Christensen. I called the hotel chain heir to find out how the first date went, but he didn’t pick up so I left a voicemail. It was short and polite, asking that he return my phone call at his earliest convenience, but that it really was no urgent matter, just a simple follow-up call. I was a bit curious to see how the date went, but it didn’t eat away at me. The hotel chain heir was a very nice guy and I really did want to help him, but it didn’t fill me with the panic that Leon Christensen did.
The outer office door opened and a female’s voice caught my attention. I leaned over to look into the office to see what was going on.
A brunette stood before April’s desk, politely talking to her. I rose from my desk and walked towards my office door, studying her closely. She was strikingly pretty. Her features were soft, yet somehow the shape of her face was sharp. She had a womanly figure of curves that would make any straight man look twice, at least twice, when she passed by, although she was slightly skinnier than me, but not by much. She saw me looking at her and smiled wide. Her teeth glimmered white.
&nb
sp; I opened my office door. “Good afternoon,” I said. “How may we help you?”
“Good afternoon to you!” The mysterious woman said brightly. Her voice was high and bubbly. She was in her mid to late twenties, definitely no older than twenty seven. “You must be Julie! Rebecca’s my cousin!” Every sentence she spoke ended with her voice rising an octave and turning even mousier than it had sounded at first.
I racked my brain for a Rebecca.
“My name’s Marilyn Benedict, but everyone calls me Marilyn. Rebecca told me you called her looking for single ladies she knows. I’m a single lady!”
Understanding dawned on me in an instant. “Oh, that Rebecca,” I lied, still not remembering calling any Rebecca, but knowing that it was highly likely that I had. “Please, come in. Would you like anything to drink?”
Marilyn looked back at April and smiled wide again and shook my hand as she walked into my office on tall black stilettos. She wore expensive dress pants and a blouse that showed off just enough cleavage to still be considered classy, but sexy as well. Her breasts were full and round, they no doubt caught the eye of many, if not all, men.
“No, thank you,” she said brightly. I pulled out a chair before my desk and she sat down, crossing her legs as she did. I had a brief flash of the image of Leon crossing his legs when he sat in the exact chair.
“So,” Marilyn said, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “You are looking for a good match for a male client?”
I sat down behind my desk and took out a notepad. “Yes, I’m trying to find a partner for a particularly tricky client of mine. You should know that normally I charge for both men and women, but as you are coming here on my request, there will be no charge, naturally.”
Marilyn sat in the chair, her eyes focused on me. I looked at her and wondered if she had blinked since she came in. Her mannerisms were friendly and warm, but there was something a little off about her. I wondered if she was nervous and if she knew that I was picking up on it.
“So, we’ll begin with you just telling me about yourself.”
“Ok, what do you want to know?” Marilyn asked, shrugging her shoulders in a very animated way when she said it.
“I’d just like to know some of your interests, basic stuff. Like what your favorite foods are, what you do in your free time, that kind of stuff.”
Marilyn leaned back in the chair, relaxing slightly as she pondered what she was going to say.
“As far as food goes, I absolutely love Asian food, especially Thai. I could live off of Thai food. And for fun, I really enjoy being social, dancing, having great conversations.”
“What do you look for in a man?”
“I need a man with edge,” Marilyn said, lowering her voice. She briefly looked around before continuing, “I don’t know if I should really mention this or not, but I like some rough stuff, if you know what I mean. I don’t mean anything super crazy, but yeah, a little bit of rough stuff is necessary.”
I wrote down ‘a little bit of rough stuff’ in my notebook.
“What do you mean by that?” I asked, studying her.
“Well, I’m into BDSM. I was introduced to it a few years back by this guy who was a Dom. So naturally I fell into the role of the sub. Do you know what both those are?” Marilyn asked me, her voice showing a hint of concern over my alleged ignorance.
“I’m aware of the roles of BDSM,” I said.
“I mean, aside from sex, I need a man who has a great sense of humor. And by that I mean very dry, dark, and sarcastic. I like when a man is quick on his feet and can tear things apart with his words. A man must be smart to be able to be with me.”
I was taking notes on everything Marilyn was saying, wishing now that I had recorded this. I hadn’t expected much when I saw her, but now it seemed like she was giving me answers that were right in accordance with what I had been searching for. Yet even though she had taken a good amount of time to consider her responses, I could hear something odd in her voice. It showed through her expressions too, but I couldn’t place it. It was as though she was hamming herself up or reciting a written passage.
This wasn’t abnormal. Many clients came in with an entire life story prefabricated. And really, who wouldn’t try to hype themselves up when they were pitching themselves to a matchmaker? But I still couldn’t suppress the odd feeling I was having. There was something just a little off.
“What’s the highest level of education you have?”
“I have BA in Economics with a minor in International Studies. I’m currently enrolled in a master degree program for business.”
I wrote this all down. I took out Leon’s file and scanned the information he had sent over after our meeting. He had also majored in economics for his undergrad and then graduated with a MBA in business. Marilyn was lining up with Leon in every way so far. Had I really been so lucky to have her just walk into my office?
“I’m going to have you arrange a meeting with April for us in the next day or so, a longer meeting where I can interview you further.” I felt uneasy about another meeting with Marilyn. She had arrived so suddenly that I didn’t have any time to process what had happened. I wanted to mull over her responses and get some background information on her. Was my apprehension towards her an indication that she might be the answer to Leon Christensen’s problem?
Marilyn stood up and smiled wide. The friendly smile that adorned her face had never faded or flickered since her arrival. I felt a hint of distrust towards her, as though her attitude was feigned.
We shook hands amicably and she made an appointment with April that was to take place in two days. I watched Marilyn as she spoke with April, arranging the meeting. Her eyes never left April, never blinked. It was though they were studying her coldly and calculatingly, but why?
April handed her a business card with our next appointment written on the back. Marilyn left, waving to me as she walked out. Every step she took was accentuated to show off her curves. I should know; I was an expert myself at this very same walk. In the wake of Marilyn’s departure, I felt relief wash over me, but I was unsure as to why.
“She was... nice” April said politely, stuttering as she struggled to find the right word. I looked over to April and we shared an unspoken moment. So, April had felt it too. A sense of justification over my gut reaction to Marilyn solidified itself when I saw that April shared my feelings. Marilyn, while perfect on paper, had made us both uneasy in some unidentifiable way.
I shrugged. She had been friendly enough, but maybe she was just a little too eager or looking to please. It was subtle, no doubt, but I had sensed its presence in every mannerism and word of hers.
I sat back down in my chair and the phone rang. The hotel chain heir’s voice started firing off excitedly in my ear over his date and I leaned back in my chair, grinning. I listened to him and I allowed myself to feel a sense of accomplishment.
The feeling didn’t last. The hotel chain heir’s exuberance could only fulfill me vicariously for so long. His case had not been a particularly difficult one; I had just felt a certain affection towards him that made me work harder. When a glimmer of hope had elevated him to the clouds, I felt satisfied that I had helped, but I wasn’t in the clouds with him.
I drove home, the music in my car loud enough to drown out any thought but not loud enough to push away the heavy feeling in my chest. No music was loud enough for that.
At my apartment, I found myself pacing from room to room, occupying myself with menial tasks. I cooked a dish from a complicated recipe online that took almost two hours and actually came out pretty good in the end, but I easily could have ordered take out and been done with it. Nervous energy was coursing through my blood and I needed distractions. On the bright side, my apartment had never been so clean.
I sat down on the couch. I turned on the television and watched a wildlife documentary that was beyond beautiful, but the magic was broken every time a commercial break tried to sell me a new car or revolutionary form of b
irth control. I turned it off at the second commercial break and sat with my legs crossed on my couch, thinking.
Marilyn Benedict had waltzed into my office and presented herself as the exact person I was looking for. I didn’t trust it, despite the fact that I had called several old clients hoping for that exact outcome. When it happened that a woman with the same interests and educational background walked in from the street, I had found myself distrusting her and probing her every move with a microscope.
Why did I care so much? Leon Christensen was a babe, that was for sure, but his personality left much to be desired. Memories of our first encounter flashed back to me. His vulgarity, the edge to his words, the cockiness all surrounded the image of Leon Christensen. Stills saw something deeper in him, but I really had yet to experience it. If there was experiencing any deeper side of him at all. So far, all he had presented to me was a man with so much confidence that it protected him like an impenetrable wall.
No, I had sensed something in him. At our last meeting, Leon had let just a little bit of his guard down. I do not believe in love. Those words had been genuine. A confession of his soul, unmasked of defense or motive. And hadn’t his eyes softened when he spoke, as though he didn’t believe in love, but he wanted to.
Could he look at Marilyn and feel love for the first time?
Anxiety crept up in my chest like a shadow forming as the sun fell behind me. The idea of Marilyn and Leon out on a date brought with it a finality of any fantasy that I held onto about Leon Christensen. Why did letting go make me feel so tense?
I did know the perfect way to relieve tension.
No, I wasn’t going to give into temptation. While I was alone in my apartment, and no one would know besides me, I didn’t want to further my growing want of Leon Christensen. Yes, I could definitely close my eyes and imagine he was beside me, rubbing my shoulders while his soft lips kissed the back of my neck gently, but it was better not to. Right?
Billionaire Erotic Romance Boxed Set: 7 Steamy Full-Length Novels Page 30
