by Liv Bennett
Zane works as the CFO of Hawkins Media. Realistically, he wouldn’t have that title, even for a small-size company at the age of thirty one, if it wasn’t for his father. Chloe’s Wikipedia page, however, doesn’t state anything beyond her family. As if her only accomplishment is to be born to that family. As long as she doesn’t bother me, she can spend her entire life shopping for all I care.
Chris Hawkins, on the other hand, doesn’t even have a Wikipedia page or other information regarding his personal life or career.
On the final day, I wake up, fully convinced that I should accept Michael’s offer for no other reason than getting to know a jewel like him. He’s gay and not interested in me, but he’s, driven, dedicated, mature and full of life experiences about business, people, cultures, anything and everything. And, really, I’d be an idiot for turning my back on the job of my dreams. Even if I’m expected to hold the position at Hawkins Media Group for one year, it’ll be proof to the other companies that I’m a professional and not in it to make money with sexual-harassment law suits.
Before signing the contract though, I call Taylor to ask her to meet up for breakfast.
Just as I expect, Taylor shows up with Adam, dragging him everywhere with her as if he’s her bodyguard.
“Hey, what’s up?” Adam gives me a half hug and shuffles my hair. I hate it when he treats me as if I’m one if his little sisters.
“Stop it.” I push him away playfully. “I’ve got big news for you, but I won’t say anything until I get my coffee.”
“I just want some orange juice,” Taylor says and takes the chair across me, while Adam heads to the counter for our orders. “We, too, have some news,” Taylor whispers, her eyes scanning the other patrons at the surrounding tables suspiciously.
“You go first. Mine can wait.” It will give me some time to compose myself and think through how I should pop the news. All this time, I’ve been consumed with trying to decide what the right thing to do is, without giving a thought about Taylor’s reaction. Now that she’s before me, my decision seems more real than ever. And, I’m afraid with my news, I’ll awaken a new part of Taylor’s personality.
The angry.
“Well.” She rubs her hands together, biting her lower lip. “Adam and I are going to give it another try.”
“Give what another try?”
“Having a baby.”
“Oh.” If I’d gone through what she had suffered last year, I’d never even consider getting pregnant again. She’s brave to want to go through all that agony again. I have to give her that. “Are you sure?”
“Kind of.”
“You can’t give it another try if you’re only kind of sure. What if it happens again?” I shouldn’t have said that. Her gaze drops to her hands, and her lower lip trembles. I reach over and cover her hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “I’m sorry, Taylor. I just don’t want to see you hurting again.” Damn, I was mortified with what happened to my niece, I can’t even begin to imagine what battles she must have been going through all this time.
“I know. But, I just can’t not try it again.”
Adam comes with our beverages, saving us from Taylor’s threatening tears. She’s turned to a puddle of raw and sensitive emotions after what happened with Macey Williams. Rightly so.
“What news have you got for us?” Adam places a cup of coffee in front of me and a bottle of juice for Taylor.
I take a sip from my coffee and inhale a deep breath. This’s going to hurt. “I’m going out on a date with Michael Hawkins.”
Both Adam and Taylor stare me suspiciously, before turning to each other and screaming, “no way,” in chorus.
What am I? Fifteen for asking for an adult’s permission to date a man?
“I know, guys. You’re afraid it’ll harm your construction project, but I promise nothing ever related to my relationship with Michael will have even a slightest effect—”
“Relationship?” Taylor interrupts. “You just mentioned a date, now you’re talking about a relationship. The project can go to hell. Michael isn’t the right guy for you. He’ll use you, your youth and beauty, then move on to his next target. You don’t need men like him in your life. He has a bad reputation with women. I can’t allow any men hurting you, much less a man-whore like Michael Hawkins.”
“Look, I’m only twenty three. I’m not thinking about marrying at this point of my life. I just want to have some reckless time before finding the right guy. Since Carl, I’ve never felt anything for a man until I met Michael.” At least the last part isn’t a lie.
“Which Carl?” Adam’s eyes search my face for an answer.
“My ex.”
“Why didn’t I…” Adam starts to ask but Taylor raises her hand to stop him.
“He’s a gentleman,” I begin reciting what I’ve been preparing to tell them. “He knows how to treat a woman. And I really do find him very attractive.”
“We’re talking about the same Michael Hawkins, right?” Adam asks.
“Yeah, I know he’s old. But, that’s okay for me since I’m not planning to marry him.”
“You’re gonna get hurt.” Taylor shakes her head, moving her body away from the table, away from me. “We women aren’t like men. When you get involved with a man, you’ll start having feelings for him. What you think now, that it will never happen, will inevitably come true, and you’ll begin dreaming about having him only for yourself, marrying him, having his children.”
“Children? Are you serious? He has kids older than me,” I reply, but she’s right with every word, from her point of view, not knowing the truth about Michael’s sexual orientation and the contract.
“Which goes to prove my point.”
“I’m an adult now. Please, let me act as one. Let me have some adventures while I’m still young and let me get hurt too, if that’s what I’ll have to experience at the end.”
“Lindsay, love.” I can see tears welling up in her eyes. Oh, shit. She’s going in for the kill. “If you’re hurt, I’ll be hurt too. You may not feel it that way, but you’re a part of me. It tears my heart when you’re sad.”
I slide onto the chair next to her and put my arm around her shoulder. “I feel the same. I do, but I promise I won’t be sad because of Michael. If anything, I’ll feel alive and thrilled. Wasn’t it you who was telling me the other day to do something fun with my life? That’s exactly what I’m intending to do.”
“Do you honestly find him attractive?” Adam asks, his hand laced in Taylor’s. “I can’t picture you with him.”
I snort. “Can you picture me with another man?”
“I didn’t mean it that way. Of course not. But, Michael has two sons who would be more suitable for you than him.”
“That’s not helping, baby.” Taylor shakes her head, glancing at Adam, and pulls me in closer. “Zane and Chris have even a worse reputation with women than Michael. Don’t you ever read the tabloids? I’d rather have Michael as my brother-in-law than either of his two sons laying a hand on Lindsay.”
“I’m not going to marry Michael. Ever,” I say, wondering how much Taylor knows about Zane. I don’t have the slightest idea about his attitude toward women, but I can easily see him dating more than one at the same time. That’s probably the reason behind the brief preaching he gave me in the elevator. He might be interested in sleeping with me, make me one of the thousands on his list of the women he banged, but knowing the contract will prevent me from any sexual affair, he tried to stop me. I’m not even sure why he’d want me, actually. He has the looks and the money to attract all kinds of ladies. Older or younger, promiscuous or virginal.
Taylor glances at her phone and turns to me. “We have a meeting with a client in half an hour.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Be very careful,” Taylor says, and I let out an exasperated breath. “And please, please, please, don’t go to bed with him for at least a month. Ask for STD-test results beforehand. Your feelings will eventually recover if
he decides to find someone else, but a genital herpes is permanent, so is AIDS.”
“Oh gross.”
“Do as I say. You won’t be harmed.”
“Okay, okay. I will.”
Adam and Taylor finally grab their drinks and give me a hug before leaving me, and I remain staggered and paralyzed in my seat for several minutes.
I play with my phone, pondering whether I should call Michael or drive to his office to give him my positive reply. Calling seems to be a better option, because if I pay him a surprise visit, he might not be able to receive me with his busy schedule. My best bet will be meeting with Edric, but I’d rather see or hear Michael’s first reaction when I break him the news. I don’t know why I expect him to be anything more than just fine with my acceptance. After all, this is a contract, just like any other dozens contracts he must be signing on a daily basis.
Still, I dial Michael’s private cellular number that’s written on the contract, and he picks up on the first ring. “Lindsay Doheny. I’m glad you’re calling back.”
“Hello, Michael. How are you?”
“I’m good, though that might change depending on your answer. Have you made up your mind yet?”
“Yes, I did. That’s the reason for my call.”
“I’m all ears.”
“I’ll sign it.”
“Fantastic. Thank you very much for sparing me another month of searching for a substitute. Have you had a chance to visit the Pleasure Extraordinaire?”
“Oh, that.” I totally forgot about it, and even if I’d remembered about it, I wouldn’t go anywhere a mile near it anyway. “Frankly, I’m a little uncomfortable with the idea of using a service as such.”
“Well, I won’t allow you to sign the contract if you don’t at least go see the place.”
“You’re kidding me, right? It can’t be a requirement? There’s nothing about it on the contract.”
“The contract you have isn’t the final version, and we haven’t signed it yet. So yes, I can demand additional conditions before we finalize it. I’m going to send over a company driver to take you to their mansion in the afternoon. Bring a photo ID with you. All your expenses there will be on my account, so don’t worry over money if you want indulge yourself with the most expensive dish on the menu, and I’m not talking about food.”
Oh, shit! What’s he thinking of me? I think I presented myself under a terribly bad light by admitting my need for physical closeness. “I’d rather skip that step and directly sign the contract.”
“That’s not up to you to decide.”
After a minute or two of trying to convince him otherwise, I finally give up and tell him to send his driver to pick me up at three p.m. to get a few hours for preparation. I might as well get myself beautified and primed for the unusual occasion.
5 - The Interrogation
I don’t know what to expect at the Pleasure Extraordinaire mansion, but one thing is clear. It’s a place for the wealthy and distinguished. And not to forget the sensual.
I pick out my most-expensive and also very revealing dress, which is a white, strapless, mid-thigh dress that hugs my body tightly. It has golden laces that start right below my breast line and go until the hem of its skirt. With white stilettos and a clutch, I’m ready to go.
I find myself very nervous on the ride, more than when I drove to Michael for the interview two days ago. Why, actually? I’ll probably just look around, scan the menu, and drive right back home. Even if Brad Pitt is offered, it’s highly unlikely I’ll find enough lust in me to see past the money issue associated with it. I wonder what kind of wealthy men would want to be part of a sex club. Certainly the greedy ones for wanting to make more money on something their bodies—penises to be specific—are programmed to do easily, anyway.
Besides, Michael is going to have to sink big bucks into our contract. Why cause him more loss?
My mind is so involved in what is awaiting me that I forget to count cars, which in itself is a disaster because I’ll have absolutely no clue about the imminent hours.
The driver stops in front of a closed gate, then answers to the intercom by the gate that he’s driving Mr. Hawkins’ guest. The gate doors open at the mention of Michael’s name, and I spot a four-story beige building with small balconies, in the middle of tall oak trees. If I didn’t know, I’d think it’s a mid-size boutique hotel. As the car drives around, I realize the mansion is much larger than what I originally thought and is connected through tubes to two other buildings of the same style.
It can probably host over a hundred clients with ease. Are there that many women in the city who’d be willing to pay for sex?
A young man, a boy actually, with sun-kissed skin, short brown hair and big, brown eyes appears beside the passenger door to open it for me. “Welcome to Pleasure Extraordinaire. I’m Nick. I’ll be your assistant throughout your stay.” His eyes follow my face intently as I make myself get out of the car and stand in front of him.
He’s lean and very tall, just the way I like, but also too young for me. Is he offered on the menu, too? There must be some women who’re into young, inexperienced men, but it’s not my cup of tea.
“Hi, Nick,” I say, feeling guilty for my superficial thoughts about him. I have just stepped into the Pleasure Extraordinaire territories and already started seeing people as if they’re meat to purchase.
He offers me his arm, and I slide mine through as we walk up the stairs and into the mansion. Extravagance isn’t adequate enough to describe the décor of the large foyer, decorated in a dark hue of red and softer beige. The thick Persian rug is soft beneath my feet, and the red roses hanging on the walls accentuate and lift the heavy air.
Oh, and not to mention the best of all decorations; half a dozen men, each more handsome than the one before, lined up at either side of the door. Taller, shorter, younger, older, blond, black. A small sample that covers any type of man a woman can wish for.
I admit my pulse accelerates and my sex clenches at the sight of the naked torsos, save for the red boxers, a short distance from my fragile body. Okay, I may have been rushing my judgment about my opinion on having sex with a man in exchange for money. Mostly because, each of these men gaze at me as if I’m the piece of meat they’ll enjoy and not the other way around. More than a couple of them have an apparent hard-on, too.
I turn to Nick for help, most likely blushing, as I have no idea of the protocol here. Am I supposed to pick a guy now? As much as my vagina is already pulsating, I’d rather have a general introduction to the place, before throwing a guy into a room, or better yet, being thrown by one of them.
As if reading my confusion, Nick urges me ahead with a friendly smile on his face. “Mr. Preston is waiting for you in his office. He’ll register you as a new client and explain to you the rules of Pleasure Extraordinaire.”
“Sounds fair.” I smile at him with a wink, a response totally unusual of me. I don’t wink. Like, never. But only a few seconds into this mansion and it is already getting into me. Could they be using some kind of sprays to calm down the clients and pull their slutty selves out? I shouldn’t rule out that possibility, although there isn’t anything I can do about it. “But, who’s Mr. Preston?”
“Ace Preston is the owner of Pleasure Extraordinaire, also the manager.”
“Oh.” With my arm still embracing Nicks, maybe a little harder than at the beginning because I’m nervous as hell, I walk, climb more steps, and walk some more until we stop in front of a door on which ‘Ace Preston’ is engraved in cursive letters.
Nick knocks on the door briefly and then turns the handle down without waiting for an answer. “Mr. Preston will be taking over now. I’ll be waiting for you here.” He points at the chair across the corridor.
“Thanks,” I say and take a step into Ace’s office. A tall man in a crisp, white shirt and black slacks and with blond hair down to his shoulders stands in the middle of the room. His ice-blue eyes are staring at me without a hint of frien
dliness. I find myself hesitating to take another step toward him. Contrary to Nick’s pleasant company, this man is radiating coldness and spite. I can easily picture him yelling at his employees or demanding impossible tasks from them with bitter consequences if they don’t comply. I think Ice, as a name, suits him better than Ace.
Mr. Ice.
His gaze is making it impossible for me to examine the office. For all I know, the room is entirely empty, but I can’t, for the love of god, take my eyes from his chilling regard.
“Miss Doheny, I’m Ace Preston. I’ve was expecting you sooner.” He approaches me, and I force myself not to flinch away with irrational fear. He will not hurt me. I try to mentally talk some sense into myself. I’m a client, and I’m here for him to make money. “Please, take a seat,” he says and lifts his hand to point at something.
My eyes finally break free from his gaze and follow the direction his hand is gesturing. A chair. Huh? Why am I so surprised? He doesn’t wait for me to sit, nor offers his hand to shake mine, and just goes ahead and takes his seat behind a large, mahogany table that carries a large computer screen and stacks of paper. In addition to his extreme coldness, he’s lacking in the social-manners department as well.
“Mr. Hawkins and I had a talk earlier this morning. He’s willing to pay all your expenses at Pleasure Extraordinaire for a full year. We have a variety of options for you to take full advantage of, but before coming to that part, I’d like you to answer a few questions.” He looks at the computer screen and types on the keyboard.
“Sure.” I nod and take a seat across him.
“Do you have any STDs?” Mr. Ice asks. I bite my lower lip to stifle my smile for the nickname my mind has picked for him.
“No.”
“Have you been tested recently?”
“No.”
He reaches for a cell phone on the table and dials. “Mindy, I have a new client in my office… Okay… Yes, right now.” After placing the phone back on the table, he turns to me. “We have a lab in our building. Our nurse will draw your blood and run tests to identify if you have any diseases.”
