sheath dress with an all-over cherry blossom print, the silk making it look about as expensive as it was. It was something Darren would have approved of, I dryly noted to myself as I looked my outfit over in the mirror. Slightly understated, classy, yet at the same time accentuating my every curve. That made me smile, although it wasn’t a warm or nice grimace.
At exactly five to seven I swept into the building, my outfit and demeanor enough to let the door man know that I belonged here. A man whose dull outfit screamed accountant held the door to the elevator for me and continued to stare at my rack the entire way up—at least until he got off the elevator, three floors below my destination. I was a little disappointed that the snooty receptionist wasn’t in attendance yet, but Alison’s secretary was already at her desk, and I could see the woman herself standing in her office, looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the city sprawling below.
The assistant was about to get up, likely to tell me to take a seat until Alison would see me, but I stalked right by her.
“Wait! You can’t go in—“
“I take my coffee with cream, no sugar,” I told her, and stepped right into Alison’s office.
Glancing over her shoulder, Alison watched her helpless assistant flounder—the woman was likely as steadfast as a battleship under different circumstances—but greeted me with a warm, bright smile.
“I see you have ditched your manners with your ambitions to quit,” she quipped, gesturing toward the leather sofas in the sitting area.
“I think we both know that’s not true,” I replied. “It was all pretense.”
“Ah,” was all she said to that, then accepted her espresso from the harassed woman—who handed me mine with a small dish of cream on the minimalistic tray the coffee was sitting on. I nodded my thanks, then waited for Alison to speak.
“I’m not going to waste your time on small talk,” she started after taking a dainty sip.
“Much obliged,” I agreed.
She flashed me another smile, this one more feral than the first. “I have two propositions for you. The first I doubt you will have any objections to. The second, well, I hope you will oblige me there.” At my nod, she put down the coffee and launched into her explanation. “I take it that your plans to succeed your madam are working smoothly? Because that was why you were at the opera night before last? A twisted kind of cotillion, if you will.”
“And I do love Tosca ,” I offered.
“That, too,” Alison acknowledged. “Anyhow. That means, if I was looking for someone who could supply, let’s say entertainment and company for clients of mine who happened to stay in the city for a day or two, you would be the woman to talk to?”
I let my pleasant smile widen. “You are at the right address, yes.”
“Splendid.” She waited patiently as I got a stack of cards out of my purse, in a nondescript, white box that looked like any other you’d get straight from the printer. The cards inside had only arrived this week—the paper thick, my name and number embossed silver on cream. No address and not even email—if you want to hire a whore, you do it the old-fashioned way. Either you call, or you show up in person, yet only after making an appointment. Alison fished out a single card and kept it for herself, putting the box back on the table between us.
“I presume that means that you’re no longer taking on clients of your own?” she asked, sounding genuinely interested.
I didn’t know what to make of that, and decided to play the humor card. “If you’re asking because you want to engage me for a threesome with you and your husband, the answer would be ‘no.’ As much as the offer would tempt me on an intellectual level, I’ve left that part of my life behind.”
She pursed her lips, and for a second I was afraid that she’d start pouting at me any moment now. “Don’t worry. I know exactly what my
At exactly five to seven I swept into the building, my outfit and demeanor enough to let the door man know that I belonged here. A man whose dull outfit screamed accountant held the door to the elevator for me and continued to stare at my rack the entire way up—at least until he got off the elevator, three floors below my destination. I was a little disappointed that the snooty receptionist wasn’t in attendance yet, but Alison’s secretary was already at her desk, and I could see the woman herself standing in her office, looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the city sprawling below.
The assistant was about to get up, likely to tell me to take a seat until Alison would see me, but I stalked right by her.
“Wait! You can’t go in—“
“I take my coffee with cream, no sugar,” I told her, and stepped right into Alison’s office.
Glancing over her shoulder, Alison watched her helpless assistant flounder—the woman was likely as steadfast as a battleship under different circumstances—but greeted me with a warm, bright smile.
“I see you have ditched your manners with your ambitions to quit,” she quipped, gesturing toward the leather sofas in the sitting area.
“I think we both know that’s not true,” I replied. “It was all pretense.”
“Ah,” was all she said to that, then accepted her espresso from the harassed woman—who handed me mine with a small dish of cream on the minimalistic tray the coffee was sitting on. I nodded my thanks, then waited for Alison to speak.
“I’m not going to waste your time on small talk,” she started after taking a dainty sip.
“Much obliged,” I agreed.
She flashed me another smile, this one more feral than the first. “I have two propositions for you. The first I doubt you will have any objections to. The second, well, I hope you will oblige me there.” At my nod, she put down the coffee and launched into her explanation. “I take it that your plans to succeed your madam are working smoothly? Because that was why you were at the opera night before last? A twisted kind of cotillion, if you will.”
“And I do love Tosca ,” I offered.
“That, too,” Alison acknowledged. “Anyhow. That means, if I was looking for someone who could supply, let’s say entertainment and company for clients of mine who happened to stay in the city for a day or two, you would be the woman to talk to?”
I let my pleasant smile widen. “You are at the right address, yes.”
“Splendid.” She waited patiently as I got a stack of cards out of my purse, in a nondescript, white box that looked like any other you’d get straight from the printer. The cards inside had only arrived this week—the paper thick, my name and number embossed silver on cream. No address and not even email—if you want to hire a whore, you do it the old-fashioned way. Either you call, or you show up in person, yet only after making an appointment. Alison fished out a single card and kept it for herself, putting the box back on the table between us.
“I presume that means that you’re no longer taking on clients of your own?” she asked, sounding genuinely interested.
I didn’t know what to make of that, and decided to play the humor card. “If you’re asking because you want to engage me for a threesome with you and your husband, the answer would be ‘no.’ As much as the offer would tempt me on an intellectual level, I’ve left that part of my life behind.”
She pursed her lips, and for a second I was afraid that she’d start pouting at me any moment now. “Don’t worry. I know exactly what my
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