Selling Satisfaction

by Ashley Beale

  "You're being transferred to the Detective Bureau in Pensacola, Florida. They're trying to bring down a growing escort service in the town and need a new, fresh face. You'll be perfect for the job."

  Florida? That is a long haul from Richmond, Virginia.

  "Oh." It's the only word I can bring myself to murmur while I register the idea of moving away from my home state. My parents are both deceased, so I won't have that baggage to worry about, but I do have a little sister I'd rather not leave behind. She may have a husband as well as a child on the way to worry about, but for the last three years I've taken care of her every chance I could.

  After a few minutes of debating with myself, I ask, "Why Florida?"

  "Junior Detective Johnson was my first choice but when I got this report in, I knew it was either terminating you or transferring you down there. Honestly, Burke, you're one of the best detectives I have, but something like this would damn near destroy this department if I kept you around. I can't risk it. Your choice; Florida or food stamps."

  "I'll accept the transfer, Chief."

  "Good choice. I'll send in the paperwork. You'll need to be there by Friday."

  "But it's Wednesday."

  The way Chief looks at me, I know this isn't up for debate. I give him a nod, thank him, and walk out of the room with as much dignity as I can muster. I don't know how I'm going to break this to Emily. She is going to be devastated that I'm leaving her, especially with my nephew on his way in less than four months.

  Once I get home, I put in a call for a moving company to help get my place packed up. Before leaving the station, Chief Biggins gave me the information to my new condo, which will be paid for by the new station for up to six months. Then I'll be forced to have my own place or take over payments. Maybe by then I'll feel settled in the new neighborhood.

  My place is always neat and tidy, it's a habit with my job. Everything needs to have a place. I pack up a few essentials I don't want the movers to touch, then I leave my apartment to head over to Emily's, surprising her with dinner from Jaleo.

  "What are you doing here?" She asks when answering the door. Her smile is only making it harder to tell her the truth.

  I hold up the paper bag with a smile. "Hope you're hungry."

  With a rub of her belly, she assures me she is always starving.

  Walking into the kitchen her husband, Sebastian, is pulling out a couple pans for dinner. "Everett has it," Emily tells him.

  "Sweet, thanks man," he says, while placing the pans back under the counter. "I'm exhausted. I didn't feel like cooking tonight."

  Emily pulls out the take out containers while Sebastian gets out a few dishes. "So what's with the wonderful surprise?" Emily asks. She knows I don't typically do surprises- and I know she won't stop asking until I give her the news.

  "Well, it's kind of a good-bye," I admit. May as well rip the damn bandage off. Unfortunately, there isn't much time for useless chit chat.

  I swear she almost drops the container in her hand. "Wait, what?"

  "I got in some trouble at work," I tell her. "So I don't have much choice. I’m moving to Florida."

  When we were kids, Emily always said she wanted to live somewhere a little warmer and sunnier than Virginia. I never understood why, because to me living here is perfect. It never gets too hot nor too cold, and the sun is plenty. She, however, had dreams of living somewhere extremely south. I should have thought of that before I said I was moving to Florida, because her eyes light up with excitement. I can only imagine she'll try to convince Sebastian to move down there with her eventually.

  "Which part? Tampa, Orlando, Naples?"

  "Uh. Pensacola. I don't even know where that is."

  "Dude, I'm pretty sure it's a retirement community," Sebastian chimes in.

  "Ew," Emily adds. Her excitement quickly fading as her dreams slightly shatter.

  An escort service in a retirement community? Sounds... disgusting. The thought of escorts, spreading their legs and their diseases, already makes me feel unsettled. I'm sure it's filled with old, retired CEOs, which would explain how the service is growing the way Chief described.

  I can't tell them about any of my assignments- even though this particular one isn't necessarily dangerous, it’s still never safe to involve family in any way- so I don't mention how spot on Emily is with her disgust. "Well, you two are welcomed to visit any time, especially once my nephew is born." I have to reach over to get one last touch of her ever protruding stomach, which is housing the little man I've been waiting five months to meet.

  "You know we will," she tells me.

  We enjoy our food together, with conversations mainly on nursery room colors and whether or not painting while pregnant is okay for Em's health- but unfortunately I have to start my first day in thirty some-odd hours, which means everything ends faster than I'd have liked. It's harder than I imagined to say good-bye to her.

  She assures me with good faith on the way out that its not in any way a good-bye, but rather a until next time. She's always been the one to find the bright side of any and all situations. Such as when our parents passed away, I was sitting there balling my eyes out like a weak, little child, and Emily comes rushing over to console me, whispering, "It's supposed to be this way. Parents are supposed to go first." I've never understood how she could smile down at me that day- or many days in our long history together- but she is a golden egg.

  She may be a few years younger than me, but she's many generations smarter and kinder than I could ever imagine being. My mom used to say she had an old soul, and the older I get, the more understanding of that statement I become.

  It hurts to separate our hug, but at least I got a good-bye.

  *~*~*

  The following morning the moving company gets everything packed up and ready to go by seven. After grabbing a cup of coffee, I head south to my new home. With the several stops in between for food, gas, and the restroom, I don't get there until almost eleven at night. I hadn't realize sitting that long would cause me to be so damn sore all over.

  I know I'm not going to be able to unpack until tomorrow at some point, so I get a hotel for my first night here. Thankfully I have clothes to change into for tomorrow, along with everything I need for my first day.

  Waking up Friday morning, I head straight in for the police station. The town is beautiful- a coastal escape. A mixture of modern homes and rich beach houses and small cottages line the streets. Not at all a city like Richmond, but definitely not a small town either. It doesn't look all that much like a retirement community like Sebastian had assumed, but I haven't actually had a chance to check the place out. I'm sure I'll have it all figured out soon enough.

  My new chief is at his desk, waiting my arrival. He's younger than I expected, and I'm a definitely taken aback by his long, curled mustache accompanied with a shiny, bald head. "Morning, come in," he says when I knock on the door frame.

  I sit in the hard wooden chair across from his oversized desk. His name plate reads Chief of Police: Thomas O'Riley. "Morning, sir. I'm detective Burke from the Crimes Unit in Richmond," I tell him. Although I'm sure that much is obvious.

  "Of course. I was going over your file once more." He looks over different forms in my file, nodding his head once in a while but not saying much of anything. I try my best not to be nervous. I'm not normally on the frits about what people think of me or my abilities to do my job, but after my most recent fuck up, I can't help but to feel criticized by it, no matter how large it ended up being.

  After several minutes, he organizes the papers and places it into the folder, closing it on his desk. "Were you briefed on your current case?"

  "Only that it's to bring down an escort service."

  "Ginger Bedford, who goes by the name Kandy Shores, has owned and operated her own escort service for several years’ right here in Pensacola. We've known about it but truth be told, she's paid a wealthy chunk of change to our department to keep our focus elsewhere in the communi
ty. I know, I know, I don't need to hear how corrupt that is. It wasn't my choice. Anyway, we got note that several of her clients are politicians in town. With elections around the corner, a few names got leaked, and we had no choice but to get ahold of her list and publically out all the clients."

  "So... you've done that, or you need it done?"

  "We've done that," he answers me. My confusion only expands. "We didn't want just the list, but we made a deal with Kandy. If she willingly gave up the names to all her Johns, we'd leave her employees out of it. However, it's come to our attention that she didn't give up her list in full, and with that, she has also expanded to new clients. We need someone to pose as a new client to help bring down the entire service, Kandy included."

  "Okay." Nodding along with everything he said, I have to wonder one thing in particular. "So I have to have sex with a prostitute?" The mere thought of it revolts me.

  Chief O'Riley laughs at my concern, although the laughter doesn't seem suited to someone of his size and structure. "We'd rather you not actually. By placing payment, they're only required to give you the time, not any sexual activities. Hence the fact it's an escort service, they can escort you on dates, business meetings, be your trophy wife at a big party or be your fake fiancé at a Christmas gathering. Each client is different, from what I hear, although truth is more Johns than none use Kandy's services for far more than to have an attractive female on their arm at a dinner. Regardless, for you we'll figure out the details. For now, your first and only assignment is to set up a meeting with Kandy. She runs a pretty thorough background check on every potential client before setting them up with one of her girls. We have your new identity here, which you'll need to study in its entirety. Try to get in with Kandy within the next week."

  "Will do, sir. You can count on me." I stand up to shake hands with him.

  "Great. Check in tomorrow. You're no longer needed here. Monday you can set up your desk, until then I'm sure you have some unpacking to do."

  I shake Chief O'Riley's hand before walking out of his office, heading straight for my condo. I call the moving company on the way to let them know I'm ready to get things moved in.

  The condo is much nicer than I had assumed. It's twice the size of the apartment I had in Richmond. I don't think I have nearly enough stuff to fill this place up. I'm not big on shopping either, so it'll probably remain empty. It's kind of depressing actually, even though I am right on the beach. Looking out my large kitchen window, I can see several people lying out on the beach. It seems to be either younger couples or older folks, not much for kids. That could have to do with the fact it's a work day and I'm sure many of them are in their daycares or something.

  Not that I'm exactly a beachgoer, I think I've been maybe five times in my life, it'd be nice to go out and relax once in a while, since it is in fact technically my backyard. Especially when I have tough assignments that take up more energy than not.

  Walking out to my pickup truck, I grab a few boxes I kept close by incase anything happened. As I walk back into the building I watch as the men moving my mattress in hits a female, causing her to fall back. It doesn't look like a light fall either. It pisses me off no one apologizes or helps her, in fact I'm not even sure they notice her, or the fact her phone goes spiraling across the floor, probably breaking from the hard marble.

  I drop my two boxes and rush over. She gets up before I get there, so the least I can do is pick up her phone. She leans down as I pick it up, then her gorgeous green eyes narrow into mine, probably thinking it was my negligence that she got knocked down. Although it wasn't at all my fault I still feel bad.

  "Sorry about that," I say. "Are you okay?"

  She almost looks confused as she reaches around and rubs her ass. “"A bit bruised I'm sure, but otherwise I'm fine." I can't help but look her body over. It's small but she has all the right curves, especially in her tiny white bikini. My throat tightens at the sheer thought of seeing her in anything less. Which isn't the first thing I should be thinking about when I meet someone.

  I have to bite the urge of telling her she is in fact fine, but that'd make me a little too arrogant. If it weren't my first day in this town or as her neighbor- or at least, I assume she lives here- then I'd probably say a little more of what I'm thinking. I settle with announcing, "That's a damn shame. Is there any way I can make it up to you?"

  With a feisty little attitude, she pulls her phone from my grip. "My phone will be enough, thank you."

  She turns quickly and marches away, swaying her hips as she goes. I have to make sure I get a chance to talk with this woman at least once more. There is no denying she sparked something inside me... or rather, in my pants.

  "I'm Everett by the way," I yell. When she doesn't make any effort to tell me her name, I know she'll be a tough shell to crack. It's the fierce ones that drive me absolutely crazy- and the sweet southern twang in her voice only adds to it. Which means, I should probably be cautious.

  Chapter Three

  Brenna

  "I'll take a Tequila Sunrise," I tell the bartender. Sliding my ID her way when asked, giving the false statement that I'm twenty two instead of twenty.

  "Guinness," a man says, settling onto the bar stool next to me.

  The bartender walks off and I place my focus onto my phone. I'm supposed to be meeting a new client in fifteen minutes, just enough time to finish off my drink.

  "Come here a lot?"

  I look over the guy next to me. He looks... familiar. "No," I tell him. It's the truth. The hotel across the street, however, I visit often. Kandy has cut a deal with the owner, so we do a lot of business there. I hardly ever drink before meeting with clients, not wanting my inhibitions to be lower, but all the news she informed me of this past week has been wallowing with me. It’s a great way to distress by having a five o'clock cocktail.

  He cocks his head to the side. "You live in my condo complex, don't you?"

  That is why he looks familiar. This time his hair happens to be slightly slicked back and he's dressed in better clothing. Far more suiting than his carelessness yesterday. "Yeah, the one your movers knocked down." I look back down at my phone but he doesn't stop talking.

  "Well, how does your ass feel?"

  "Firm."

  He chuckles. "I'm sure it does. I meant, does it still hurt?"

  "That's a little personal, don't you think?" I peak over at him with a smile.

  "So she smiles," he says teasingly.

  "It'd appear so." I place my phone down in time for my drink to be set in front of me.

  "Do you have a name?"

  "Yes." We both take a sip of our drinks simultaneously. I'm hoping that'll end our conversation. I'm not sure how many hints I can give him that say I'm clearly not interested.

  After a few moments of silence, he decides he isn't done speaking. "And what is it?"

  "Why?" I look him square in eyes, wanting an honest answer. I have no intention on being this guy's friend, or anything more than that. I hate when guys ask me for my name, or any personal information for that matter. I'm not looking for a relationship, not even a hookup. My time is occupied with my job, and the freedom to do as I please beyond that.

  He fidgets for a second, obviously caught off guard by my question. Of course he manages to come up with a sleek response though. "Well, we are complex-mates after all. What if I run out of sugar one evening and need some. Do I knock on your door and say, hey girl with a name I don't know, may I borrow a cup of sugar? Seems a little rude to me." He flashes a ravishing smile, knowing he earned a few points.

  Good thing about being raised in foster care, is that I can quickly quip out a worthy comeback. "Well, if you know which complex is mine, the least of my concerns is the rudeness of you not knowing my name."

  He bows his head in factitious shame, and I can't help but smile once more. This time it’s less forced than before.

  "I would assume by your obvious reserve that you were in a relationship, but since you're
at a bar, drinking alone on a Friday night, I'm thinking that isn't the case. So is it something I've done, or are you just... not interested?"

  Polishing off my drink, I slide it forward and look down at the phone. I have three minutes to meet this new client. Kandy showed me his profile so I know what he looks like. I look around but don't spot him yet. When I look back at the persistent man, I believe he said his name was Everett, I give him a tight lipped smile. Most definitely forced, a bit bitchy looking, too, I'm sure.

  "I'm not looking for a relationship, or a hookup, or anything else for that matter. If my reserve is that obvious, maybe you should take the hint and not be so incessant."

  He chuckles while twisting his bottle around in his hands. The dark gray of his eyes look me over for a minute as he nods his head in agreement. "Well, in all fairness I was only looking for a new friend, since I'm new in town and all. I wouldn't be... disappointed... with a hookup, but it wasn't my intention at all." His eyes drift over my body, settling back on my face with an arrogant grin.

  My eyes naturally narrow at him but I respect his honesty. Maybe I'm a little more condescending than I realized. Spotting my new client in the distance, I look at Everett and say, "Brenna."

  Throwing a ten dollar bill down on the counter, I walk away from the bar towards Winston Marcella. The founder of Driftwood Country Club, a location for all the wealthiest in the tri-surrounding areas. I've seen him in papers before, but he hasn't been in the public’s eye over the last couple of years, since he sold the country club.

  He is dressed sharp and extrudes pure confidence. "Winston?"

  "Chasity, I presume."

  "Yes," I answer with a smile. I wrap my arm around his elbow as he leads us towards the exit.

  Before our hotel room door is even latched shut Winston pushes me against the wall. His lips brush against the curve of my jaw, pressing hard into my soft skin. He kisses and suckles until he reaches my ear lobe, biting down with force. "God you're more beautiful than I imagined," he whispers in my ear.

  His hands reach behind me, unzipping my dress, stripping it from my body. It falls to the floor at my feet, and seconds later Winston makes sure my underwear is piled within the fabric as well. His fingers reach between my legs, wasting no time to show me pleasure.