Flesh For Fantasy

by Joan Elizabeth Lloyd

  Ellen smiled through her tears. “I can’t imagine you’ve ever being scared of a man and his opinion of you.”

  “I remember when my friend Frank’s boss, Norman, called me the first time. We talked for almost an hour. I knew it was an interview of sorts, on Frank’s recommendation. He was judging me, not on my sexual prowess but on my charm and intelligence. He must have found me pleasant enough because he invited me join him, his wife and a nameless, important bigwig from out of town at a political fund-raiser the following Saturday evening. I was going to entertain the client in whatever way presented itself. He didn’t want me to tell the client that I was being paid and I wasn’t totally comfortable with that, but at that moment I would have agreed to anything.”

  “A phone interview for a job as a prostitute?”

  “Sounds a bit strange, but it actually made sense. He wanted to know whether I could make intelligent conversation and be entertaining outside of the bedroom. Finally he told me about the dinner. The candidate was an archconservative and I was a flaming liberal but somehow I agreed to attend anyway. And, of course, the money was a great incentive. Norman suggested some cover story and that was that.

  “As the evening of the dinner approached I almost backed out. What did I know about which fork to use or how to make small talk with some guy who would know that I was a paid companion? What would he expect? Would I be able to make love with someone just for money? I was a wreck.”

  “I look at you and I can’t imagine you not confident. How long ago was that?” Ellen asked, her attention riveted on Maggie’s story.

  “More years than I care to think about. I began in the business in 1974 or thereabouts.”

  “How did it all start, if you’ll pardon me for asking?”

  Maggie sipped her coffee. “I had been married. It was great sex but nothing else. After a few years, we split and I spent months lonely and horny as hell. I was in my early thirties, at my sexual peak with lots of energy and nowhere to spend it. One evening, on my way home from work, I stopped for a drink and a really nice guy picked me up. To make a long story short, Frank and I ended up in bed together, sharing a very satisfying night, and lots more after that. When he understood where I was in my life, he suggested that, if I loved sex, I should get paid for it. He mentioned me to his boss who often had to find companions for lonely businessmen. That was Norman.”

  “Didn’t Frank mind sharing you?”

  “He wasn’t interested in a permanent relationship and had a very open mind. He liked it that I was happy and he knew I needed the money.”

  “Wow. You found a real gem right off the bat.”

  “He was pretty terrific, but about a year after I met him he got transferred to the West Coast and out of my life.”

  “You didn’t go with him?”

  “Sweetie, I told you. It wasn’t that kind of relationship. Understand this. These men—Frank was the first of many—were fun to be with, date, and fuck, but not long-term material for either of us. I had long before decided that I wasn’t a one-man woman, and I made that perfectly clear to all the men I dated more than once. I like variety, experimentation, originality. I like the thrill of a new bedroom with a new partner.”

  “Didn’t any of the men get serious?”

  “Oh, sure. There was one man, Paul, who kept proposing. I knew he wasn’t really serious. We were great in bed and had lots in common but it just wasn’t enough. And, of course, he was years younger than I was.”

  Ellen sipped her coffee. “I want someone who’s interested in building a life together with me.”

  “Great. Go for that, but you have to kiss a lot of frogs to find one handsome prince, so if you learn to love kissing, it’s all wonderful.”

  Laughing, Ellen almost choked on her coffee. “Boy, I’ve dated a few frogs in my time but not recently. Maybe that’s why I want some permanence.”

  “What’s right for me isn’t necessarily right for you. If you want to find the right guy, however, you have to be brave and do some dating.”

  “Kevin’s not a date. He’s someone who wants me to pose nude. This could be sex, but it’s not dating.”

  “Even if Kevin’s not long-term material, he’s experience. You know, it’s easy to tell a frog from a prince, but it’s much more difficult to tell Mr. Right from Mr. Almost-Right. You need to sample what’s out there before you’ll have any idea who’s going to fit with you for the long haul.”

  “Brave. Right.” Her sigh was loud. “Anyway, let’s get back to you. You were telling me about your political dinner. Frank’s boss Norman.”

  “Right. I decided that if I was going to be successful in the business, I had to look the part so I made myself over with hair, makeup, and nails, just as you did.” She fluffed her short, curly hair. “Remember women were still going to bed in curlers so I found a cut that would still look good after a night’s tumble. I spent almost a week’s salary on a dress. It was black silk, bias cut, long and slender with classic lines that came straight across above my breasts with little, skinny straps. I reasoned that it wouldn’t go out of style too quickly and would accessorize easily to change its look. I added a floral-print sequined jacket, black strappy sandals, and a plain gold necklace and earrings.”

  “Sounds gorgeous.”

  “You know, that dress really helped my confidence and I needed it that night. It almost became a fiasco.” Maggie’s thoughts drifted back to that evening.

  “As planned, I arrived as the cocktail hour was ending and found a seating card with my name on it. I wended my way through crowds of black-tie-clad men and women in outrageous gowns and found my table toward the front of the room. As I approached I recognized Norman from his description of himself over the phone. To make everyone feel at ease I was to pretend that I knew him and that he had invited me to fill the final empty seat at the table, which was to be next to my date. I transferred my small black beaded handbag to my left hand and extended my right. ‘Norman,’ I said. ‘This is such a pleasure. I can’t thank you enough for calling.’

  “ Maggie, darling,’ Norman said, taking my hand and putting my face close. ‘It’s been an age.’ He bussed my cheek. ‘What have you been doing with yourself?’

  “ Just this and that,’ I said. ‘You know how I hate talking about me. How have you been?’

  “We made small talk for a few moments, then Norman introduced me around the table. ‘And this is Walter O’Reilly from our Atlanta office,’ he said, indicating an overweight man with an overly tight cummerbund that made him took like twenty pounds of mashed potatoes in a ten-pound sack. He had a real salesman smile, a florid complexion, and a roving eye. His gaze oscillated from my face to my cleavage.

  “ That’s not Radar,’ he said with a loud laugh. ‘Just Walter.’

  “ Radar?’ I asked, wondering whether I could go through with the evening.

  “ From M *A *S *H. Radar O’Reilly’s real name is Walter. Don’t you watch?’

  “ Of course,’ I said, planting a smile on my face. ‘Nice to meet you, not-Radar.’ His laugh boomed so loudly that people at adjoining tables turned to look.”

  Ellen’s nose wrinkled. “He sounds like quite a character.”

  “Oh, he was. I just stared, sure I was going to have to run for the hills. I thought about the money and shook his hand. Confidence, I told myself. It’s all in the attitude.”

  “How did you deal with the fact that you were going to spend the night with someone who you didn’t like?”

  “I just went along minute to minute. I couldn’t insult Norman or Walter so I just let myself drift, and made sure I looked like I was enjoying every second of everything.” Maggie chuckled. “I had made my bed, so to speak, and now I had to lie in it.

  “So Norman finished the introductions. ‘This is Barrett Olkowski, Norman said. ‘He’s a top chemist from our midwest research facility. He’s worked on some of our most important breakthroughs and he’s here for a symposium. He was going to spend the eveni
ng in his hotel room so I insisted that he get out for a few hours. I’m not sure, of course, that I did him any favors what with the boring speeches he’ll be sitting through, but the food’s usually good and, now that you’re here, so’s the company.’

  “I pulled my gaze from not-Radar and considered Barrett. He was about my height, sort of owlish looking with soulful brown eyes and thinning hair. Norman guided me to a seat between Walter and Barrett.”

  “Were you supposed to be with Walter or Barrett?” Ellen asked.

  “That’s the silly part. As I sat down I realized that I didn’t know which man was my date. Norman had neglected to tell me anything about the man I was being paid to entertain and he didn’t pick up on my not-too-subtle hints. So I had to be nice to both of them, and in Walter’s case, it wasn’t easy. Barrett was a quiet guy, content to eat and let the conversation swirl around everyone else throughout the multi-course meal. Not-Radar, on the other hand, was boisterous, rude, and a general pain in the ass. He told nasty jokes, making fun of blacks, Jews, Polaks, as he called them, and anyone else he could get his mouth around. He also got his digs in on Liberals and Democrats.”

  “Didn’t anyone complain?”

  “Remember those were the days before political correctness when it was all right to tell jokes of any kind as long as someone laughed. I smiled and frequently cringed inwardly, crossing my fingers that Barrett was mine.”

  “How did you manage with the silverware and all?”

  “I carefully watched what everyone else did and followed their lead. It really wasn’t as difficult as I had feared. What was hard was making both men feel like they were special, while personally loathing not-Radar. I think that was the moment when I decided that I was never going to get into a situation like that again. I was going to chat with each client on the phone before any date. If I didn’t like him, it was no dice. I wasn’t ever going to do it just for the money again. That night, however, I was hooked. A deal’s a deal and I was prepared to go ahead with whatever I had to.”

  “You really never did it just for the money again?”

  “Never. I kept working for a while and I built up a nice little nest egg. As you’ve found out in the past few months, kiss-off money is the best thing there ever was.”

  “Kiss-off money?” Ellen asked.

  “Money enough to tell anyone to kiss off, to quit your job, to tell any obnoxious slob, like not-Radar, that you’re not available. You get the idea.”

  Ellen nodded as she considered her lottery winnings. She could tell Dr. Okamura to kiss off any time she wanted. It gave her a completely different outlook on life and, as Maggie said, it was, indeed, freeing. “Was not-Radar the guy you were supposed to be with, and how did it work out?”

  “During the speeches Walter was on one side of me cheering on the candidate, a conservative who made Ronald Reagan look liberal while, on the other side of me, Barrett groaned from time to time. Finally the guy finished and many of the members of the audience got up to leave. In the confusion, I finally got to talk to Norman.”

  “So which guy was it?”

  “Norman was horrified that he had neglected to tell me that important bit of information. ‘I’m so sorry, Maggie,’ he whispered. ‘Walter showed up Friday afternoon and asked whether I had a ticket for tonight so I invited him along. Barrett’s the guy I am paying you for. I didn’t realize that I’d never told you the name of the man I wanted you to entertain. Barrett’s such a shy guy but he’s a cracker-jack chemist and a really nice man when you get to know him. He’s single and, beneath it all, very lonely. I really just wanted to show him a good time in the big city. I didn’t tell him about you and I’m hoping you can get him to unwind, in spite of himself. I want him to feel attractive, good about himself.’”

  “I’ll bet you were relieved,” Ellen said.

  “Yes, and no. I was delighted that Walter wasn’t my date for the evening, but I wasn’t sure I could deceive Barrett either.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “As the place was emptying out, a dance band began to play some slow music. While Walter was talking to Norman, I asked Barrett to dance with me. I love slow-dancing and I was hoping to loosen him up a bit. While we danced I asked him about himself and got little more than one-syllable answers. A bit frustrated, I asked about his work and he told me it was all secret. Finally, as we were walking back to the table, he said, ‘You don’t have to be nice to me, you know.’

  “I tried to look puzzled, although I knew exactly what he meant. ‘I know I don’t have to be nice to you.’

  “ Please,’ he said, whirling to glare at me, ‘I own a mirror. Let’s be honest here. The only reason I can think of for your being nice to me is that you’re a pro who Norman hired. He’s threatened to do it for some time. I don’t need a professional hooker to charm me into bed. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.’

  “I was flabbergasted that I had been that obvious, and a bit relieved that I wouldn’t have to lie about it. ‘I’m sure you are and I’m not going to deny that Norman invited me to be your date for the evening.’ I wanted to find a way to just spend some time with him. He seemed like a scared rabbit and I found that I was becoming fond of him. ‘Listen. You’re right. I’m being paid for this, but if Norman doesn’t see us spending time together, I don’t get paid and, to be honest, I need the money. If we just sit for a while, or dance, later you can tell Norman you were really tired or something, so he wouldn’t think that you didn’t find me pleasant company.”

  “That was very clever. You’re such a sweet person,” Ellen said.

  “I just like people, and I saw what Norman liked in Barrett. He was a really nice guy with an attitude problem a mile wide. His attitude problem totally eliminated mine. I convinced him to take pity on me so we sat at the table and just talked for a while. Later, as we danced, I could tell he was attracted to me. His palms got sweaty and he fumbled for his words when he held me. I rubbed my body against his and enjoyed the feeling of his excitement. ‘You know I’m already paid for the evening,’ I said, ‘and I think we could be good together: He looked dubious but I continued, ‘Why don’t we go up to your room and order a bottle of wine from room service? We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to but we can leave our options open.’

  “I could see uncertainty in his eyes. ‘I’m not a charity case, you know.’

  “I cupped my hand over his erection. ‘You don’t need charity.’ I took his hand, slipped it under my jacket and placed his palm over my breast. ‘You may not know this but when a woman gets aroused, her nipples become erect.’ I held his hand tightly. ‘This isn’t charity.’

  “I half-expected him to pull his hand back, but his eyes locked with mine. He said nothing, but he nodded.” Maggie looked at Ellen. “Do you want to hear the details? I don’t usually kiss and tell, but this was twenty-five years ago. I think the statute of limitations has run out.”

  “Sure,” Ellen said, resting her elbows on the table. “I’m fascinated. How did you get around his shyness? That must be an unusual problem.”

  “It’s funny but it’s a more prevalent problem than I would have imagined. Men would call me, then chicken out. I’d arrive and they’d tell me that they’d changed their minds. Men have performance anxieties, too, and since I’m the pro they figure that if they can’t get it up then they’ll be humiliated.”

  “Really? I never considered that a man might be afraid like that.”

  “Me either. Anyway, Barrett and I had a conversation in the elevator. I decided to be completely honest and, by the way, I’ve been that way ever since.” She drifted back to that evening and replayed the scene in her mind.

  “Listen, Barrett, let me be completely straight with you. I’m really new at this entertainment business. I like you and I think you’re a really nice guy and, frankly, you turn me on. I really like the shy type. I’m ever so glad that you know I’m a professional because I had already decided that I couldn’t go
on lying. I’d love to just sit and talk with you and, if something happens, that’s fine. If not, fine, too. How about that?”

  “You’re a really nice lady,” he said, “and, I must admit, you’re sexy as hell. I’ve been thinking lewd thoughts about you all evening but I find that the idea that you’re so—well—experienced, scares the shit out of me.”

  Maggie was delighted that Barrett had said more in one elevator ride than he had said all evening. She grabbed his arm and pressed his elbow against the side of her breast. “Let’s just see where honesty gets us.”

  In his room Maggie removed her jacket while Barrett called twenty-four-hour room service and ordered a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Are you hungry?” he asked, holding his palm over the receiver.

  Maggie’s eyes lit up. “You know, I was so nervous about the evening that I didn’t eat much dinner. I’m starved.”

  “Burgers for two?” When Maggie eagerly nodded, Barrett added two burger specials to his order. They chatted for a while until the room-service waiter arrived and set up the table for their midnight meal. Finally able to enjoy each other’s company, they gobbled their burgers.

  Each plate had arrived with french fries, an assortment of fruits and vegetables, and a large half-sour pickle. With a gleam in her eye, Maggie picked up the pickle and, gazing into Barrett’s eyes, licked the end of it with her pink tongue.

  “You’re deliberately teasing me,” Barrett said, his voice suddenly breathy and hoarse.

  “What’s the problem with that?” Maggie asked, still licking the pickle.

  Barrett reached out and grabbed her arm. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” he said as he took a big bite out of the end of the pickle. Maggie held out a strawberry and Barrett nibbled the end of it, while holding a slice of pineapple for her to suck on.

  She drew the pineapple slice into her mouth and with it, Barrett’s fingers. Her tongue danced over his fingertips and her eyes locked with his. “You are a witch, you know,” he said. “I would have sworn that I couldn’t feel as capable as I do right now with a prostitute.” He looked shocked, then added, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.”