The Dean’s List Read online

  “Oh my God, so when you said the school was sending you to that conference in California, you were with your mentors?” She was gone for a week and came back with a sun-kissed glow and a new wardrobe. Shortly after that trip, she moved into a new apartment. One I’d yet to see. “The apartment you’re in…is it…oh, you little lying slut. You told me you had to move closer to work. You moved into work.” She’s my best friend. How had she so easily been lying to me about all of this?

  “I struggled to keep things under wraps when you and I lived together. They wanted more time, and I couldn’t give more without you getting suspicious.” Her hands darted all over the place while she talked about her situation. “I was given an ultimatum. I had to give them more time or give them up. We bartered, and I ended up with the best possible outcome.” It was funny to watch her get riled. She was usually so unflappable.

  “You could have told me.” I felt…betrayed.

  I didn’t think we had any secrets from each other.

  “I couldn’t. That was against the rules.” Her voice was tinged with sadness and regret.

  “Wow, okay. So, what happens to the apartment if they dump you?” I didn’t want to bring up the possibility, but it was something to consider. She’d only been in her new place for a few months. A few months, and I’d been clueless.

  “My mentors signed a one-year contract with me, regardless of whether they use the service or not. They don’t live with me. They visit four nights a week. Sometimes it’s more, sometimes it’s less. I’m good for a year.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  There was too much information to process. Jade. A prostitute. Wow. She looked happy. Was I happy for her? Hell, I think I was.

  “You don’t have to say anything. I know what you’re going through.” She looked around the coffee shop. “Dead-end job, no prospects, and dreams bigger than you can afford.”

  We had both been struggling, but then things had changed for her. Only moments before, I’d wanted to climb into her world. Well, perhaps I could.

  “Tell me about these mentors. Are they old and decrepit?”

  The word mentor brought all kinds of images to mind. Dirty old men shaking with Parkinson’s and leering at my naked body topped the list. I looked around the café and realized that exact scenario happened here all the time, and I rarely got more than a fiver. I certainly never got an apartment.

  “No, one of my mentors is forty-five. The other is fifty-two. I’m not saying the mentors can’t be old. I’ve seen men as old as eighty and as young as thirty-five. On average, they’re between forty and sixty.”

  I’ve always liked older men. Not grandpa old, but ten to twenty years older is perfect for me. I’m attracted to the confidence found in mature men.

  “Sixty. Damn.” My nervous laughter drew the attention of several patrons who had recently arrived.

  She leaned in toward me and whispered, “Early on, my bits hardly saw action. Many of them only want to come on your face or between your tits.” She raised her brows and gave me a coy look that probably melted the resolve of every man she’d ever been with.

  “You’re shitting me. You made money letting men—” How could I chide her? I’d done worse for less.

  “Shhh. That’s part of the negotiation. You fill out a form, very much like an employment application. It has several sections on limits. If you hate anal, then you check the no box. If you don’t like sex toys or screwing in a Jell-O bath, then you can write that in. Generally speaking, the more open you are to trying things, the more popular you’ll be.”

  “Jell-O baths? Really?” Nothing that a little soap and water couldn’t remove, I suppose.

  “It could happen. Some of them just want to go to dinner and talk.”

  “They paid you to talk?”

  “Yes.”

  “Unbelievable. I would want the talkers.” Would it be possible to get only the talkers?

  “It’s not that simple. After a couple of months of trying out several mentors, I was asked for exclusivity from one of mine. Basically, I see only him and his partner.” She gave me a look I recognized as her don’t judge me look. “Yes, I do both of them. It works out well for all of us.” Who was this woman, and what had she done with my best friend?

  “Partners? As in plural? Who are these men? I’ve never heard you mention anyone’s name.” These secrets had robbed me of my friend.

  “That’s part of the deal. They remain anonymous, and I get through my grad program debt-free, well-fed, and housed. It’s my goal to build good relationships with these people. They’re in my industry, and they have the connections I need to succeed.”

  “Do you ever get attached to them? Aren’t you afraid of falling in love?” Would it be possible to be in an intimate relationship and keep it superficial? Doesn’t intimacy lead to love?

  “Don’t fall in love. I went into this knowing it wasn’t a real relationship. It’s a job. I give them what they want. They give me what I need. The only way to survive is to keep that in the forefront of your mind.” Her tone seemed to fade as the words slipped hesitantly from her mouth.

  “Are they married?”

  How would I feel about being the other woman?

  I may have had sex with more than a few men, but I’d never cheated on anyone, and I was never the girl anyone cheated with.

  “The men I see are single, as far as their profile states. I know it’s a lot to absorb, but the call I got was from my boss. She wants me to bring you to her office for an interview and to size you up if you’re interested. What do you think?”

  What do I think? How does one get sized up for a job peddling sex?

  I turned in the booth and looked around the mostly empty coffee shop, spotting my co-worker. She rolled her eyes at some possibly cheesy comment the man in front of her at the counter said. No more shitty comments and equally shitty tips.

  What did I have to lose?

  “Let’s go. Can I at least go home and change? I’m not sure wearing my nursing uniform is appropriate.” I looked down and considered my voluptuousness. Despite the placement of the red crosses, these suckers had only made me forty today.

  Was I really considering this? This wasn’t how I was raised, but given my parents’ opinion of me, it wouldn’t have been too far outside their expectations.

  Chapter 2

  We raced straight to her apartment, where I shopped her closet. Thankfully, she had a few “when I lose ten pounds” dresses hanging about. We were about the same size, with the exception of our boobs. Where hers resembled airbags, mine were more like balloons. Jade handed me a dress the color of Pepto-Bismol. I wasn’t a fan of pastels, but I figured if things didn’t go well, I could lick the dress and hope for some kind of relief.

  A pair of nude heels landed at my feet. When I picked them up and turned them over, I became breathless at the site of the red bottoms. Girls raised in churches didn’t wear shoes with red soles.

  I bounced on bare feet. “These are Louboutins. How many pairs do you have?” She walked into her closet and pulled out three more pairs. One black, one blue, one red. “I’m keeping these.” I slipped my feet into the shoes and walked the beige carpet.

  “One of my perks is having a personal shopper and an expense account at Bloomie’s. A care package containing anything I might need arrives every two weeks.”

  She dragged me into the bathroom—the enormous, hotel-like bathroom. Marble counters. Marble floors. There were more jets in the shower than body parts to spray. The tub was so big, it could fit three comfortably. Given her new lifestyle, it would have to fit three.

  To say I was shocked would have been an understatement. A few months ago, my best friend was living with me in a rent-controlled apartment, now she was living large on Fifth Avenue.

  “You must be covered in come to get all of this. Damn girl, let me feel your skin.” I ran my fingers across the exposed skin on her chest. “It must be soft and supple with all the moisture i
t gets.” She slapped my hand away from her chest and pushed me toward the counter.

  “Stop. You’re making me regret inviting you to the club. Sandra is waiting, so let’s get you ready. You have to look like a model and behave like a saint while in public—no cussing. When you’re alone with your mentor, you can be anything he wants you to be.”

  The gravity of her statement hit me. This wasn’t a game of dress up. “I got it. What about my schedule?” I searched through her makeup bag and pulled out her blush. Even her makeup was top of the line.

  “It’s a negotiation. Listen, if you have classes on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, then you’re available on the other days. If you can’t work on a certain day, you call Sandra and tell her to black out your schedule. My situation is different. My mentors own all my minutes, and I make myself accessible for their needs.”

  “What about dating?” I never realized she wasn’t seeing anyone. She always seemed so busy, and I thought there were dates. “How do you have a personal life when all your minutes are taken?” Jade had always been a serial dater, but more recently I hadn’t met a single one, and now it made sense.

  “I don’t. My education and future are more important. I decided four months ago that if I gave up dating now, I could have everything later. I lucked out. My mentors are both handsome and amazing men.” She grabbed the pink-tinted lip-gloss and coated my cupid’s bow. When she was finished, she whipped me around in front of her and stared into my eyes. “River Roberts, what do you want your future to look like? You and I know a bachelor’s degree is, sadly, like a high school diploma. You need a master’s degree just to enter the game.” She dabbed at the corners of my mouth, making sure my lips were perfect.

  “How sad. All those years of school, and I’m qualified for nothing.” Maybe my parents were right. Maybe education was simply a waste for everyone. Not wanting to dwell on the value of an education, I probed for more immediate information. “Tell me, what happens if someone gets violent? With such a secret society, how is it policed?”

  “I’ve never had a problem. Some men are into dominance, but that’s part of the negotiation. Because each department has their own set of mentors and students, they seem to be self-monitoring. No one wants their reputation to be tarnished, so everyone behaves by a code of conduct that’s acceptable to the group.”

  She twirled me around and pointed me toward the full-length mirror. I stared at myself and wondered if I could do this. I didn’t have much choice. My options were seriously limited, and there was no way I was heading back home.

  I smoothed the dress across my fluttering stomach. Analyzing the girl in the mirror, I turned left, then right, and then toward Jade.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think you look like an expensive ho.” She pushed on my shoulder, almost knocking me off her four-inch heels. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  We stood in front of an unassuming building, tucked between two law firms. Concierge Services was etched into the glass door. I took Latin in my sophomore year and knew ‘concierge’ meant ‘fellow slave’. How funny I would remember that word. I turned to Jade and gave her my best you have to be kidding me look.

  Standing in front of the building made the situation real. I was plunging into water I’d never tested before. I’d never been this nervous in my life.

  “Oh, I didn’t want to tell you this before, but you’re going to have to strip down to nothing so she can look at your body. She may take photos, she may not.” Her tone was relaxed, like stripping in front of strangers was an everyday occurrence. Hell, it might have been for her, but not for me.

  The acidic sting of bile burned my throat. I stopped dead in my tracks. My heart dropped, taking up residence next to my spleen. “What do you mean I have to strip naked?”

  Several passers-by looked at us with interest. Jade pulled me in front of the door, out of earshot, out of sight and out of the way.

  “Don’t freak out. It’s not like you won’t be stripping naked for your mentors.” Her hand ran across my back. Was she trying to comfort me or push me forward? I wasn’t sure.

  I swallowed the walnut-sized lump in my throat. “Some advance notice might have been nice. I could have prepped myself. Now you expect me to walk in knowing within minutes I’m going to have to show some stranger my parts? I could have at least trimmed.” I took a fortifying breath and pulled my shoulders back. I had Louboutins on, for goodness sake. They should be worth at least an ounce of courage. “All right, it’s all in a day’s work, right? Let’s get this shit over with.” I listened to the strength in my voice and wondered where it had come from. My insides were trembling.

  High ceilings, pale walls, contrasting dark wood flooring, and elegant finishes…I didn’t expect the place to be so nice inside. The receptionist recognized Jade and picked up the phone to presumably alert Sandra of our arrival. I took a moment and walked the perimeter of the room. Original art decorated the walls. An espresso bar sat in the corner, and I felt like I should don an apron and offer drinks.

  Jade walked toward me and whispered, “Nice, huh?” There was no one around, but it felt like the kind of place where a whisper was required.

  “Does the school operate this?”

  My business brain had been thinking of how the school got away with pimping their students. Now it appeared they had a buffer. They hid behind a service. The whole setup was ingenious.

  A young man walked in the door and approached the pretty blonde sitting behind the desk. “I’m here to pick up theater tickets. The name is Abbot.”

  The pleasant blonde checked her books and confirmed the order. “Two tickets for The Lion King. Sign here.” The man signed the log, took his tickets, and headed out the door.

  The wall to our right opened up. A secret doorway into a life full of mystery and intrigue. I wondered if I were falling down the rabbit hole.

  From the moment the doors opened, I felt the silent appraisal of the petite brunette gracing a Chanel suit.

  And it began.

  I stood taller and put on a smile in much the same way I did lipstick. I applied it and hoped it was the perfect hue for the moment.

  If she was going to size me up, I wanted her to see all five feet, six inches of me. With Jade’s shoes, I was rocking four additional inches. I looked at Jade and tried to convey a thank you with my eyes. I hoped she saw my gratitude for dressing me. Her clothes boosted the confidence that fear was trying to trample.

  Jade squeezed my shoulder and walked me to her boss. “Sandra, this is River Roberts. River, this is Sandra Tierney.”

  The woman offered me her perfectly manicured hand. Her grip was strong. It was in stark contrast to the small woman who stood before me. Maybe her firm shake was her way of telling people she shouldn’t be underestimated.

  “Ladies, come in.” She stepped aside and let Jade escort me into the room. I heard her tell the receptionist she wasn’t to be bothered.

  In the center of the room, I turned in a circle and took in my surroundings. With a deep brown, burled desk, decadent ivory sofas, and beautiful flower displays adorning several surfaces, the room screamed opulence. Graceful simplicity. Control.

  “She is beautiful, Jade.” Sandra walked around me like I was up for auction and she was considering a bid. “Do you have any body piercings or tattoos?” Her hand ran the length of my hair. She came close and inspected the ends. Thank God I’d recently had a trim.

  “No, I don’t have anything marring my skin.” She smiled. My answer seemed to please her.

  “Sit, ladies. Let’s get comfortable so we can talk candidly.”

  She led us toward the sofa. I waited for her to take her place first. She held the position of power, and I didn’t want to overstep my boundaries. She sat at the edge of the upholstered chair and folded her legs to the side. I sat on the sofa directly to her right, while Jade took the seat across from me.

  She analyzed everything I did. The way I adjusted my skirt. Th
e way I flipped my hair. She watched me mimic her body position when I folded my legs to the left. I didn’t lean back or settle in, I sat at attention and waited for her to give me direction. I’d played this game before. As a pastor’s daughter, I was an expert in etiquette.

  I sat in silence as she observed me. My eyes glanced toward Jade. She appeared to be the epitome of calm, while every cell in my body was ready to bolt.

  “River is an interesting name.” Her voice had an air of sophistication. “Is there a story behind it? I find the stories of people’s names fascinating.” She pulled a notepad from the table next to her and began to jot something down. Her movements were fluid but measured.

  “My name is River Jordan Roberts.” The name question was usually one of the first ones asked. I found it easier to be honest than juggle lies. “I’m the only daughter of a Protestant pastor. As you’re most likely aware, the Jordan River has significant meaning to Christians. It’s where John baptized Jesus. It’s also where the Israelites crossed into the Promised Land. I’m not sure my parents would say I’ve been the promised land for them, but that’s the long and short of my name.”

  “I love it. You say your father is a pastor?” Her regal posture never faltered. She sat primly in her seat. “Will that be a problem with the line of work you’re seeking?” It was like we were talking about a librarian’s position instead of a job selling my body for tuition.

  “I don’t see myself calling my father and asking for his blessing or permission. However, my upbringing should be an asset to you. My manners are impeccable when they need to be. I’ve been exposed to people from all walks of life, and I’ve never had legal problems.”

  Sandra released her ankles and leaned back in the chair. She scribbled a few more notes and looked up.

  I glanced in Jade’s direction. If her glow was any indication, I suppose I’d made it past the first impression.

  “Tell me, River, do you like sex? And if so, what do you like the most?” She straightened her skirt and stared at me. There was more to this question than the question. She watched me intently.