to get and how far
you’re willing to go. Up to a certain limit, of course. I have standards and I’m
not Caligula.”
“I
don’t think I have the guts to go very far.”
“And
that’s your decision. You won’t earn as much, though.”
“How
much can I make on a normal night?”
“Depends
on your agreement, but it’s typically anywhere from five hundred to five
thousand for an evening. We run on a commission basis here. You get twenty-five
percent of the net, per client.”
I
tried not to act totally blown away. I couldn’t even begin to guess what I
would have to do for five thousand dollars for one night, but the amount was
more than I earned in three months at a full-time job. “What if I only agree
to a dinner date?”
“Again,
it’s your choice. What I’ve learned over the years is to encourage that up
front, give you ladies time to get your feet wet. Eventually, when that money
is dangling in front of your faces, you all give in; before you know it, you’re
rubbing peach pie on a senator’s chest with one hand and pinching his nipples
with the other.”
I
couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing so hard I thought my chest would
collapse. It felt so good, and I hadn’t laughed that hard in so long. I
understood that it wasn’t Roman’s intent, but the sheer ridiculousness of the
idea, and the situation, was more than I could bear. “Tell me that didn’t
really happen.”
He
hadn’t expected my laughter—the surprise and confusion showed in his furrowed
brow and squinting eyes. To him, the story was just another day at the
office. It took a second or two, but he eventually laughed with me.
At
that point, my anger at him had dwindled to a glimmer, and the warm, hearty
laugh that came from his throat shoved the rest of it away. When he managed to
stop long enough to catch is breath, he said, “We never kiss and tell here,
but…the next time you see Grady Wilson on CNN, I hope you’re not eating pie for
dessert.”
It
set us off again and we laughed until neither of us could breathe.
The
tension—in all forms—had left the office and we sat, shaking our heads and
rubbing the tears from our eyes. As attracted to him as I was, I’d given up on
the idea of anything happening between us. Business partners, or boss and
employee, that’s all, but the moment was a real one and seemed so wonderfully
right. We could’ve been good together.
Roman
got out of his comfortable chair and walked around the desk, moving in front of
me. He leaned back, crossed his arms and said, “Thank you. I haven’t laughed
like that in a while.”
“Neither
have I.”
“So
what do you think? Are you the newest Midnight Fantasy superstar?”
I
stood, holding the contract in my hands, staring at it, then at him. “I need
some time to think about it.” I expected him to launch into another rambling
tirade about money and opportunities, time and expectations, but it didn’t
happen.
He
simply said, “Understandable. Take a day to think about it. If you’re not
here by eleven tomorrow morning, consider the window closed, okay?”
“You
may see me again, you may not.” I winked at him.
Then
he kissed my cheek, but it was only a sign of affection. A small blink of
desire flickered somewhere inside me, then it was gone as quickly as it
appeared.
“I’ll
see you tomorrow,” he said.
He
knew he would. And I did, too.
***
I
walked into my apartment, undressed, and flopped onto the couch, wearing
nothing but my underwear, too exhausted to get up and put on some clothes. I
had to go pick up Joey from Dreama’s house soon. When I’d called from the car,
telling her I’d be there in a bit, she’d asked how the interview went and for a
moment, I had panicked, thinking she knew where I’d been. Thankfully, I
recalled lying to her about the fake interview with the software company. I
lied again and told her it went well, though I wasn’t
you’re willing to go. Up to a certain limit, of course. I have standards and I’m
not Caligula.”
“I
don’t think I have the guts to go very far.”
“And
that’s your decision. You won’t earn as much, though.”
“How
much can I make on a normal night?”
“Depends
on your agreement, but it’s typically anywhere from five hundred to five
thousand for an evening. We run on a commission basis here. You get twenty-five
percent of the net, per client.”
I
tried not to act totally blown away. I couldn’t even begin to guess what I
would have to do for five thousand dollars for one night, but the amount was
more than I earned in three months at a full-time job. “What if I only agree
to a dinner date?”
“Again,
it’s your choice. What I’ve learned over the years is to encourage that up
front, give you ladies time to get your feet wet. Eventually, when that money
is dangling in front of your faces, you all give in; before you know it, you’re
rubbing peach pie on a senator’s chest with one hand and pinching his nipples
with the other.”
I
couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing so hard I thought my chest would
collapse. It felt so good, and I hadn’t laughed that hard in so long. I
understood that it wasn’t Roman’s intent, but the sheer ridiculousness of the
idea, and the situation, was more than I could bear. “Tell me that didn’t
really happen.”
He
hadn’t expected my laughter—the surprise and confusion showed in his furrowed
brow and squinting eyes. To him, the story was just another day at the
office. It took a second or two, but he eventually laughed with me.
At
that point, my anger at him had dwindled to a glimmer, and the warm, hearty
laugh that came from his throat shoved the rest of it away. When he managed to
stop long enough to catch is breath, he said, “We never kiss and tell here,
but…the next time you see Grady Wilson on CNN, I hope you’re not eating pie for
dessert.”
It
set us off again and we laughed until neither of us could breathe.
The
tension—in all forms—had left the office and we sat, shaking our heads and
rubbing the tears from our eyes. As attracted to him as I was, I’d given up on
the idea of anything happening between us. Business partners, or boss and
employee, that’s all, but the moment was a real one and seemed so wonderfully
right. We could’ve been good together.
Roman
got out of his comfortable chair and walked around the desk, moving in front of
me. He leaned back, crossed his arms and said, “Thank you. I haven’t laughed
like that in a while.”
“Neither
have I.”
“So
what do you think? Are you the newest Midnight Fantasy superstar?”
I
stood, holding the contract in my hands, staring at it, then at him. “I need
some time to think about it.” I expected him to launch into another rambling
tirade about money and opportunities, time and expectations, but it didn’t
happen.
He
simply said, “Understandable. Take a day to think about it. If you’re not
here by eleven tomorrow morning, consider the window closed, okay?”
“You
may see me again, you may not.” I winked at him.
Then
he kissed my cheek, but it was only a sign of affection. A small blink of
desire flickered somewhere inside me, then it was gone as quickly as it
appeared.
“I’ll
see you tomorrow,” he said.
He
knew he would. And I did, too.
***
I
walked into my apartment, undressed, and flopped onto the couch, wearing
nothing but my underwear, too exhausted to get up and put on some clothes. I
had to go pick up Joey from Dreama’s house soon. When I’d called from the car,
telling her I’d be there in a bit, she’d asked how the interview went and for a
moment, I had panicked, thinking she knew where I’d been. Thankfully, I
recalled lying to her about the fake interview with the software company. I
lied again and told her it went well, though I wasn’t
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