The Dean’s List Page 7

  “I want control over my life, and smart finances are the way to go about it.” I wished I could have said my choices had always been smart, but my sixty-two thousand dollars of debt said differently.

  “Your emphasis will be on finance, then?”

  The waiter delivered course three, and I was a bit disappointed it wasn’t me. I would have happily lain on a plate and let him lick food off my tines.

  Focus.

  “Yes, I want to do estate planning and financial management.” The plate in front of me contained a tiny salad of grapes, kale, and olives drizzled in light pepper vinaigrette. This time, he took his fork and fed me. I had no idea why this thrilled me, but having him place a bite in my mouth felt nourishing on so many levels.

  “I can help you attain your goals. I’m in the perfect position to lend support.”

  And here it was. He would trade his services for my services. This was what it was all about, right? He surprised me when he poured us another glass of wine and changed the subject.

  “So, if purple isn’t your favorite color, what is?” His index finger swirled across the back of my hand. Goosebumps sprung along the surface of my arms. He would have to be blind not to see them.

  “Oh, that’s a tough one. My closet is full of red, so I suppose I might lean toward red, but I love bold blues like sapphire and azure. How about you?”

  “I’m your basic blue guy, but I also like bold colors. They convey power.” He lifted his crimson-colored tie. Silk. Not the kind you got at JC Penney, but the kind you got at Bergdorf Goodman.

  “River, is this the first time you’ve done a job like this?” Direct. I liked that.

  “Yes, I was recruited on Monday by a friend, and here I am. Why?”

  “You exude sex appeal, which gives you the air of experience, and yet I get the feeling you’re trying to figure this all out for the first time.”

  Bingo. The man was very in tune to everything, from people to his surroundings. I imagined it was those observation skills that helped him achieve his success.

  I didn’t know if I exuded sex appeal, but since that was the second time I’d heard it today, there must have been some truth to it.

  “I have no idea what I’m doing. Right now, I’m having a lovely dinner with a man who intrigues me. Short of that, I’m winging it.”

  His laugh was full-bodied. The crinkles in the corners of his eyes were fully committed. He looked happily handsome.

  “You are fresh and fun, River, I like you. What are you so intrigued by?”

  “Your lips.” The words spilled out. “I keep wondering if they are as soft and supple as they look.”

  Leaning in, he pressed his full lips against mine. Soft and pliant, his lips covered my own. He didn’t press hard, but he let his lips hover against mine for a languid, soft, nipple-hardening minute.

  He leaned back. My hand came to my lips. “Wow.” His lips were everything I imagined them to be and more.

  “What else intrigues you?” I watched his finger trace the rim of his glass. I listened to see if it would start humming.

  “About you, or in general?”

  “Anything.”

  The waiter brought course four.

  Duck Foie Gras.

  I pondered his question for a moment. “Who do you think decided to cook liver and charge a small fortune for it?”

  “A genius. I love this stuff.” He slid his fork into the delicate meat and lifted it to his mouth. His audible moan made my insides coil. All I could think about was recreating that sound in bed. I was a total whore.

  Course five consisted of lobster with leeks, carrots, and watercress sprinkled with bordelaise.

  Course six was grilled salmon.

  Pork jowls with Yukon gold potatoes in korma curry sauce was served next.

  Course eight was a veal medallion with maitake mushrooms and a cabernet reduction.

  Our date was coming to an end, and that saddened me. In-between the small parcels of mouthwatering food, Jonathan’s appeal grew. He was witty, charming, and enchanting. He didn’t seem to mind my humor, and I felt…comfortable. Surprisingly so. How I hoped he would check yes on his chemistry sheet.

  I wanted to see him again. I was going to log in to complete mine right away. In fact, I would do it on the way home. It was sad that I would have to see other men, as Jonathan was so perfect for me. I reminded myself that this wasn’t a traditional date. How many times would I have to think it to believe it?

  “What are you so deeply in thought about? I can see the cogs turning in your head.” He pushed the empty plates to the edge of the table and poured more wine into our glasses, giving me the largest portion.

  “I was just curious about a few things.” I sipped the wine while the waiter set a plate of assorted bite-sized desserts in front of us.

  “What do you want to know? I am happy to answer anything within reason.”

  Should I ask the questions that floated in my head? Somehow, they didn’t seem like first encounter inquiries. “I’m sitting here thinking about why a nice guy, who has amazing lips, needs a girl like me?”

  His facial expression turned from a look of contentment to a mask of indifference.

  “I was married and lost my wife to cancer several years ago. She was irreplaceable. I don’t want the entanglements of a relationship. I’m not interested in pleasing a woman in every aspect of her life. I’m not interested in experiencing the kind of pain I felt when Claire died in my arms.”

  Well, if I had any notion this was a relationship, I was just schooled. Whatever this was…it would never be more than a business arrangement.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your wife. Being the child of a pastor, I’ve had a front row seat to grief.”

  “Pastor’s daughter? Holy hell. Wow, I didn’t expect that.”

  Me neither. I didn’t expect the details of my life to spill out of my mouth. It just goes to show you that wine loosens lips and hips. In spite of everything, all I wanted was to kiss him again.

  “Yep. I’m a real saint.” I twirled my finger around my head like a halo.

  His suppressed laugh shook his shoulders as it escaped like bursts of steam from a pressure cooker. Once on simmer, he continued. “What was the other thing you were curious about?”

  I didn’t tell him I was curious as to whether he would choose me. The concept was moot. He either would, or he wouldn’t. In the end, it didn’t matter; it was a job. The more I repeated that, the more likely I would believe it.

  “I was wondering if you’d be kissing me goodnight?”

  Chapter 7

  His eyes widened, and the intake of a quick breath told me another kiss was something he too craved. He walked me to the car and kissed me senseless. My lips parted, and his tongue dove in to sweep my mouth. It ended much too soon.

  He slid me into the back seat of the car and sent me on my way. I pulled out my phone and pressed yes next to his profile. In fact, I would have said hell yes if it had allowed me. The man made my body vibrate for his touch. The sizzle he created had caused a fire to burn between my legs.

  I headed straight home and enjoyed the power and efficiency of a Hitachi Wand and a 110 outlet.

  I showered and readied myself for bed. My next encounter would come early. I already didn’t like him because he was an early bird. Early birds may get the worm, but who wanted a worm?

  I glanced at my work phone to see if Jonathan had filed his review. It was really just a notification that said the client felt positive about the encounter and would like to seek future meetings. My phone remained blank. Maybe I scared him off. Sadly, I could see myself having enjoyable encounters with him.

  * * *

  Mark Plank met me at the corner bistro by my house. It wasn’t the amazing dinner I’d had with Jonathan, but it was bearable. He was the CEO of Usatrade, a large stock exchange company that oversaw the trading platforms for small investors. His work was interesting, and he loved to talk about it. As an escort, I wo
uld have to learn to be an excellent listener. After the first hour of him talking about how stupid small investors could be, I was full. Full of breakfast, full of discussion, and full of Mark Plank’s bullshit. It was sad that after an hour, I’d already met my limit. I stared at the man, trying to find one redeeming quality that would allow me to lie with him. When I started counting deductions instead of adding assets, I decided he wasn’t a good investment of my time. We parted after an hour, and I immediately filed my time and checked no to his profile.

  Lunch was with Paul Yoder. Paul was charming and took me to a posh cafe outside of the Rockefeller Center. We chatted for two hours about his job as the Chief Risk Officer for a leading Wall Street trader. Paul was nearly bald, but his blue eyes sparkled with delight when we discussed movies and music. I watched his hands throughout the date. Nicely groomed nails and soft-skinned palms would feel nice exploring my body. He gave me a peck on the lips before telling me he hoped we would have an opportunity to see one another again. I tapped in yes on his profile and headed home. A girl could do worse. She could have to listen to Mark Plank bore her to death for hours.

  Dinner was a fancier affair. I met Donald Zane at Shun Lee Palace. We feasted on crispy duck and sautéed prawns with vegetables. We discussed his job as the CFO of Globe Tech. Although not a traditional job in Wall Street, his job was interesting and I listened with fascination. I would say he was in his early sixties, but he was in decent shape. He had a pleasant personality and good manners. He gave me a peck on the cheek before he said goodbye. I checked yes to his profile and readied myself for the next day.

  Sunday morning, Stan Driver and I met for breakfast. We enjoyed omelets at the little cafe in Central Park. His eyes were the color of dark chocolate. They were similar to Jonathan’s but lacked the amber chips that gave them softness. I found myself wanting to check my phone all morning. So far, Jonathan had not responded to my profile, and I wondered why. I left the park and checked no to Stan. In all fairness, I wasn’t engaged in the conversation and felt he didn’t get a fair shake, but in the end my interest waned, and I couldn’t imagine being with a man who had eyes that reminded me of another.

  Lunch was spent with Carl Schaeffer, asshole extraordinaire. He was a man so full of himself, there wasn’t room for anyone else. His red, bulbous nose was an indication of a heavy drinker, and his bad temper flared when the waitress spilled water on the table. It took me two seconds to send my no.

  By Sunday night, I was exhausted and hadn’t spread my legs once. The preparation for these dates was taxing.

  I was afraid I would sprout hairs, but thankfully none had been brave enough to break through the skin. The thought of my next waxing made me shudder in fear.

  Dinner was a laid-back affair at a small steakhouse on 46th Street. Ben Daniels and I ate filets and discussed politics. As the owner of a lucrative financial planning company called Masterplan, he now spent more time golfing and fundraising than he did at the office. He was a pleasant companion and a true gentleman. Although he appeared younger, I would have guessed his age to be somewhere in his seventies. He put me in a taxi after our meeting, and I typed in yes to his profile. I didn’t know what sex would be like with him, but he had the ability to charm the pants off me.

  I checked my phone several times throughout the day. I was happy to find Mark Plank felt the same way about me. His name disappeared from my account, indicating he had removed himself as a candidate. The rest of the men claimed to want to pursue something further.

  Requests were coming in for second meetings, but I hadn’t confirmed any yet. I was flattered so many men were interested and saddened because Jonathan didn’t seem to be. I had hoped he would be my first encounter. It looked like I would have to remove him from my list and consider the remaining options. I wanted my first to be a good experience, as I believed the first encounter would set the precedent for all others.

  I finished my last three meetings for the week on Monday. Craig Hagen was a yes, Tom Silian was a no, and Hugh Baxter was a definite no. Anyone who came to a meeting with food in his teeth and smelling like a sweaty prizefighter was not getting up in my goodies.

  * * *

  School started Tuesday. Jade and I met for coffee before class. She looked tired but happy.

  “Let me see your wrists.” I grabbed her arms and looked for ligature marks.

  “What the hell?” She pulled her arms back and laughed. “They never leave marks that you can see.” A twinkle sparkled in her eyes.

  “So, you really were tied up.” I tried to call her several times, but her phone went directly to voicemail. I could have used some advice but managed to waffle through it on my own.

  “How’s it going?”

  “Excellent. I’ve had several meetings, ten to be exact. I have about a fifty percent pass rate, but I haven’t scheduled my first sexual encounter. I really liked my first meeting and was hoping he would be the one to bust my cherry, but he hasn’t responded to our first meeting. He may not feel like we had chemistry.”

  “Your cherry was busted by Tommy Baldwin during our junior year. I stole the condoms from my brother’s drawer for you.” Jade sipped her latte and wiped the foam from her lips.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yep, and let go of any notion that these men are after more than a dip in your snatch. Pick one and get it over with. Go home and cry and then bury it away. In two years, you’ll be set.”

  I swore my vagina clenched shut. I’d have to separate my brain from my penis flytrap if I were going to get through this. Like any job, it would take time to learn the rules and shortcuts. Taking a deep breath, I decided to take her advice. I scrolled through my invites and accepted Paul Yoder’s offer to have drinks on Friday. I would deal with Donald Zane’s request tomorrow.

  “I got it, first encounter is Friday. Drinks are what he offered. I imagine I’m dessert.”

  We hugged and went our separate ways. I was off to an analytics class. She had yoga. Life was so unfair.

  My phone dinged during class. It had to be Paul with the details for our meeting. I silenced it and listened to my professor drone on about something he called data blending.

  * * *

  Exhausted, I waited for the subway. I pulled the phone I’d ignored all day from my purse and scrolled through the messages. Several calls were missed while I was in class.

  Paul left a message saying he would meet me at seven. I was to dress for a cocktail party. He told me to bring an overnight bag just in case. I texted him back and told him my schedule didn’t allow for an overnight at this point. I didn’t want to be stuck all night long on my first encounter. I might need a good cry, and having it in front of my mentor was unthinkable. Several requests had come in for initial meetings. There was also an update to my profile.

  My eyes stared at the yes next to his profile picture. Finally, Jonathon had indicated interest. Of course, he had. The minute I picked someone else to be my first, he responded. I wondered if the mentors had each other on speed dial. It didn’t matter; he was a means to an end. Like Jade said, these men only wanted a socket for their plug. Understanding that fact would save me a lot of heartache in the end. In the end. That was a funny thought. I could be getting it there on Friday.

  Homework first, and then on to HGTV. Shows where I got to peek into people’s homes and lives were my favorite. There was a voyeur in me.

  Tired of watching the boob tube, I headed for the shower. The hot water cleared my head. All that managed to consume my thoughts were the feelings I experienced from a particular kiss. My mind kept going back to Jonathan. His kiss had made my core clench. Nope, I couldn’t go there. If he called me right now and asked if I would go out tomorrow, I’d say no. To let an arrogant man have the upper hand would be stupid.

  I shivered outside the shower, racing to dry my damp skin so I could climb into bed.

  As if summoned, a message flashed across my screen. My heart raced, and my hands shook. I chanted no
in my head. No. No. No.

  River, are you available for dinner tomorrow night? I was thinking Japanese. Can I pick you up at seven?

  J

  He ended the message with a J, as if I was supposed to know who he was. Arrogant.

  No. No. No.

  My chant went on and on. I set my phone on the counter, picked it up, set it down, picked it up, and then I typed.

  Jonathan,

  That sounds lovely.

  R

  Chapter 8

  “Cancel the arrangement, River.” Jade’s voice reverberated with authority. She looked around the coffee shop and whispered, “He’s trouble for you.”

  Why was she acting so strange? I thought she would be happy my first paid lay would be with someone who didn’t make my skin crawl. Instead, she acted like I was committing a horrible sin. “What? No. This is my first paid encounter, and I feel comfortable with him.”

  “That’s the problem. This is your first experience, and you should be scared shitless, but you’re not. You’re acting like this is a first date. This is no date. This is a business transaction, period. Get that through your head.” She may have been whispering, but the tone of her voice was serious. Take-no-prisoners serious. Ebola serious.

  “I get it. Don’t be pissed at me because my first encounter will be with a nice, handsome man who just happens to be a good kisser. Hell, he could have the tiniest womb broom around. Would that make you feel better? He doesn’t make me want to puke, and that should count for something.” God, I hoped he had some swag in the sack. There had to be a rainbow amidst this storm.

  “That’s the problem. He already feels too comfortable to you, and that’s dangerous. You need to keep your distance. He’s not good for you.” Even though Jade was present, I could see her mind was being tugged in another direction by the faraway look in her eyes. She had one foot in this conversation, and the other was heading somewhere else.