Anonymity. Payment in cash. In return, I expect obedience. I insist on maintaining control.”
As if on stage, Andrew took a faux sip of champagne. True, he’d seen Paresh uncork the bottle, but he wouldn’t risk being drugged. “Define control. I won’t let you cuff me, Paresh, or tie me up. Not even with a safe word.”
Paresh’s dark eyes widened. “I never suggested anything of the sort. Not yet. I meant only this: for the duration of this encounter, I am your employer. You are my employee. No insubordination. No impertinent questions. Obey me throughout, or leave.”
Andrew took a deep breath. “Fine. Mr. Choudhari.”
Paresh laughed. “ That won’t be necessary. I love to hear you say my name.” Clicking his glass against Andrew’s, Paresh drank the champagne in one swallow. “Andrew, if you’re afraid to drink yours, by all means, put it down. I have the room all set up. Why delay?”
Following Paresh out of the vast living room, Andrew passed through a long hall he vaguely remembered. Taking a right turn, Paresh led Andrew to a room with a dark, ornately-carved wooden door. Its brass handle was shaped like an elongated tongue. Glancing at Andrew’s face, Paresh chuckled.
“Needn’t look so serious. It’s meant to be lighthearted. Fun.”
Nodding, Andrew took in the door’s medieval-style carvings. It reminded him of pre-Renaissance triptychs, the kind that always seemed devoted to Hell and its myriad torments. The people, all naked, had such ugly, goggle-eyed faces, he recognized the men only by their exaggerated phalluses. One man waited on his knees for another to mount him as a devil loomed above, sword poised ominously. A woman suckled a devil at each breast as a man poked his face between her legs. Another man gripped his member with both hands, pleasuring himself as devils hacked apart sinners nearby. Andrew found the whole thing dizzying and repulsive.
Paresh pushed open the door. “Go inside, Andrew. Have a look around.”
A huge bed, larger than a California king, dominated the room. Even at a distance, Andrew could tell the figures carved in the dark headboard matched those on the door. The sheets were crimson, the pillows black.
“Is that satin?” Touching the sheet, Andrew gave a nervous laugh. They were indeed satin and the pillows were velvet. If Dante’s Inferno boasted a whorehouse, surely the beds looked something like this.
“Andrew. Is that a hint of impertinence?” Paresh’s tone was stern. “I’ve gone to a lot of trouble for you. Tell me you like it.”
“I like it.”
“ And appreciate it.”
Biting his tongue, Andrew studied Paresh. They were roughly the same height; their eyes were on the same level.
Except Paresh holds the purse strings.
“I appreciate it,” Andrew said slowly, without inflection.
Paresh smiled. “That’s better. Through that door,” he pointed, “is a shower and a Jacuzzi. Across from the bed, a flat screen TV. Sometimes a little cinematic inspiration helps. And there, on the bureau, you’ll find two stacks of money. Go ahead. Count them. Just take care to keep them separate.”
Andrew did as he was told, relieved the bureau was only dark wood and brass knobs, free of any hellish sexual decorations. As he guessed, the taller stack of cash totaled the exact sum Paresh had offered him. The smaller pile was another thousand dollars in twenties and fifties.
“What’s the extra thousand for?”
“My. Don’t you sound suspicious. It’s a bonus, Andrew. If this goes well, you’ll have the opportunity to earn it. If not, well, you’ll still receive the amount originally promised.” Shrugging out of his suit jacket, Paresh draped it over a straight-backed chair softened by a single velvet pillow. “Would you like to see the toy I selected for you?”
“Sure.”
Going to the bureau, Paresh opened a drawer and removed a silver box. At least a foot long, it reminded Andrew absurdly of Cormac’s chili dog. He pressed his
As if on stage, Andrew took a faux sip of champagne. True, he’d seen Paresh uncork the bottle, but he wouldn’t risk being drugged. “Define control. I won’t let you cuff me, Paresh, or tie me up. Not even with a safe word.”
Paresh’s dark eyes widened. “I never suggested anything of the sort. Not yet. I meant only this: for the duration of this encounter, I am your employer. You are my employee. No insubordination. No impertinent questions. Obey me throughout, or leave.”
Andrew took a deep breath. “Fine. Mr. Choudhari.”
Paresh laughed. “ That won’t be necessary. I love to hear you say my name.” Clicking his glass against Andrew’s, Paresh drank the champagne in one swallow. “Andrew, if you’re afraid to drink yours, by all means, put it down. I have the room all set up. Why delay?”
Following Paresh out of the vast living room, Andrew passed through a long hall he vaguely remembered. Taking a right turn, Paresh led Andrew to a room with a dark, ornately-carved wooden door. Its brass handle was shaped like an elongated tongue. Glancing at Andrew’s face, Paresh chuckled.
“Needn’t look so serious. It’s meant to be lighthearted. Fun.”
Nodding, Andrew took in the door’s medieval-style carvings. It reminded him of pre-Renaissance triptychs, the kind that always seemed devoted to Hell and its myriad torments. The people, all naked, had such ugly, goggle-eyed faces, he recognized the men only by their exaggerated phalluses. One man waited on his knees for another to mount him as a devil loomed above, sword poised ominously. A woman suckled a devil at each breast as a man poked his face between her legs. Another man gripped his member with both hands, pleasuring himself as devils hacked apart sinners nearby. Andrew found the whole thing dizzying and repulsive.
Paresh pushed open the door. “Go inside, Andrew. Have a look around.”
A huge bed, larger than a California king, dominated the room. Even at a distance, Andrew could tell the figures carved in the dark headboard matched those on the door. The sheets were crimson, the pillows black.
“Is that satin?” Touching the sheet, Andrew gave a nervous laugh. They were indeed satin and the pillows were velvet. If Dante’s Inferno boasted a whorehouse, surely the beds looked something like this.
“Andrew. Is that a hint of impertinence?” Paresh’s tone was stern. “I’ve gone to a lot of trouble for you. Tell me you like it.”
“I like it.”
“ And appreciate it.”
Biting his tongue, Andrew studied Paresh. They were roughly the same height; their eyes were on the same level.
Except Paresh holds the purse strings.
“I appreciate it,” Andrew said slowly, without inflection.
Paresh smiled. “That’s better. Through that door,” he pointed, “is a shower and a Jacuzzi. Across from the bed, a flat screen TV. Sometimes a little cinematic inspiration helps. And there, on the bureau, you’ll find two stacks of money. Go ahead. Count them. Just take care to keep them separate.”
Andrew did as he was told, relieved the bureau was only dark wood and brass knobs, free of any hellish sexual decorations. As he guessed, the taller stack of cash totaled the exact sum Paresh had offered him. The smaller pile was another thousand dollars in twenties and fifties.
“What’s the extra thousand for?”
“My. Don’t you sound suspicious. It’s a bonus, Andrew. If this goes well, you’ll have the opportunity to earn it. If not, well, you’ll still receive the amount originally promised.” Shrugging out of his suit jacket, Paresh draped it over a straight-backed chair softened by a single velvet pillow. “Would you like to see the toy I selected for you?”
“Sure.”
Going to the bureau, Paresh opened a drawer and removed a silver box. At least a foot long, it reminded Andrew absurdly of Cormac’s chili dog. He pressed his
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