Men, Women & Children (17 page)

Brandy said, “Okay,” and they did, still not touching. Brandy, too, was unsure about how to make the transition to any kind of physical contact. She had always been under the impression that it was the duty of the male to initiate anything in that direction. For her to act outside of this unspoken rule would seem awkward. But, then again, she reasoned, it was already awkward as they lay there side by side in his bed, not touching, actively maneuvering their bodies so that not even the slightest contact was made.

Saying nothing, giving no warning, she reached out, took Tim’s arm, and moved it so that she could lay her head on his chest, putting his arm around her as she did. Tim, too, said nothing as it was happening, unsure of what it meant, of what he was supposed to do next. He opted to do nothing, to just enjoy her lying on his chest, as Tim Heidecker performed his character Spaghett on television. He smelled her hair and listened to her laugh at the show. This, Tim thought, was what it must be like to have a girlfriend. He wondered if she thought the same thing about him, and he wondered when or if that subject should even be brought up. So he remained where he was and watched television, content with exactly what was happening.

Brandy, with her head on Tim’s chest, listened to his breathing and to his heart. She, too, thought that this was what having a boyfriend must be like. She, too, wondered when, or if, that subject should be talked about. Obviously they would at least have to kiss before there was any talk of becoming a couple, and she knew she wouldn’t be the initiator of their first kiss. So she remained where she was and watched television, content with exactly what was happening.

After a few hours, Brandy raised her head and said, “I should probably go. I can’t even believe my mom hasn’t called me yet.”

Tim said, “Okay. I’ll walk you to the door.”

On Tim’s porch, he hugged her but did not kiss her, despite wanting to more than anything in that moment. He said, “Thanks for coming over.”

Brandy said, “Yeah, no prob.”

They both wanted to know when their next meeting would be, when they would hold hands, when they would share their first kiss, but neither said anything or initiated any movement toward these things. They were both too nervous, too unsure about the other’s response if they should ask or do something of that nature. Tim Mooney stood on his porch and watched Brandy Beltmeyer ride her bicycle off into the night, hoping that her mother hadn’t called her and that he would see her again outside of school very soon.

Once Brandy was back at Lauren’s house, she checked her phone, only to find that her mother had never called. Brandy found this strange; she wondered if something was wrong with her phone. She thought about calling her mother to make sure everything was all right, but opted not to. She decided not to press her luck, not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

P
atricia sat in her daughter’s room at her daughter’s computer. She meticulously sifted through all of her e-mails, Facebook and Myspace messages, wall posts, and any other file on her daughter’s computer that might reveal anything incriminating. She had been doing this for hours when her husband, Ray, came in. Ray said, “You still in here?”

Patricia said, “Yes, I am.”

Ray said, “You’ve been at it for a few hours now.”

Patricia said, “I know, and I haven’t been able to find anything. We’re lucky, Ray.”

Ray said, “Then maybe you should take it easy on her a little bit.”

Patricia said, “You’re right. I’ll just call her and check in to make sure everything’s okay at Lauren’s house and then I’ll come to bed.”

Ray said, “Don’t call her.”

Patricia said, “What?”

Ray said, “You just went through her entire computer, doing whatever you do, and you said yourself—she’s clean as a whistle. Just let her be a teenager tonight. Show her you trust her. Let her grow up a little.”

Ray sometimes initiated conversations with his wife about being less overbearing with their children. Patricia usually dismissed his arguments, but in this case he seemed to make sense. She looked at her phone as it sat on her daughter’s desk. Her daughter was becoming a young adult, and her husband was right. She deserved the space that she needed to grow on her own. Patricia tried hard not to take for granted how well-behaved her daughter was, and she believed that giving her a night away from home, without a phone call to check up on her, would strengthen their relationship. She found that she trusted her daughter.

She said, “You’re right, honey.”

Ray said, “Let’s go to bed.”

D
on parked his car further away from the front entrance of the Cornhusker Hotel than necessary, put a piece of gum in his mouth, and checked his hair in the rearview mirror. This was it—he was really doing this. He reached over into the passenger’s seat, took the envelope containing eight hundred dollars that he had gotten from the bank that afternoon, and tucked it inside his jacket pocket, questioning the decision to wear a jacket to this encounter as he did. The jacket had seemed like a good idea earlier in the day; it seemed like it might lend some importance to what he was doing, make it classier than it actually was. Now it just seemed like a failed and pathetic attempt to do those things.

Don entered the Cornhusker, checked in at the front desk, got his room key, and then went to the bar. He was five minutes later than the time he and Angelique Ice had agreed upon. This was done on purpose. Don had no interest in waiting at the bar for her. He wanted to spend as little time in public as possible, on the off chance that someone he knew might spot him. There were no other patrons in the Cornhusker’s lounge, just Angelique Ice, who sat at the bar drinking a martini. Don recognized her immediately. She was slightly heavier in person than in her photos, but Don found her attractive nonetheless. She certainly wasn’t as soft and out of shape as his wife.

He approached her and said, “Angelique?”

She said, “You must be Don. You’re cute.”

Don saw this as part of her act. He knew she couldn’t actually find him attractive, or that, if she did, the circumstance of their meeting would render any genuine attraction she had for him null. Still, it was nice to be complimented, nice to have someone tell him she was attracted to him. His wife, Rachel, hadn’t called him anything remotely close to cute in longer than he could remember.

Don said, “You’re not so bad yourself. So how does this work?”

Angelique said, “Well, we have a drink and then we go on our date.”

Don looked around and saw that no one else was in the place. His fear of being discovered hadn’t completely subsided, but he agreed to one drink, having some desire to get the full experience of a meeting with a prostitute. He also reasoned that a drink might not be a bad idea. He was more nervous than he wanted to be. He wanted to enjoy this. He ordered a shot of whiskey and drank it instantly, and then ordered another and did the same.

Angelique said, “Is this really your first time? I know you said it was on the phone, but a lot of guys say that.”

Don said, “You can’t tell?” as he ordered a final shot of whiskey.

Angelique said, “Well, you seem like a nice guy and you’re pretty clearly nervous. Let’s continue our date in your room.”

Don said, “Sounds good,” left some cash on the bar, and led Angelique Ice up to the room he had booked.

They said nothing on the elevator up to the room. Once they were inside, Don said, “So how exactly does this work?”

Angelique said, “Well, for a donation of eight hundred you get to have a standard date with me, which is full-service and lasts for an hour. For sixteen hundred you get the full GFE.”

Don said, “GFE?”

Angelique said, “Girlfriend Experience. I stay the night with you and wake up with you tomorrow and we get to be with each other all night.”

Don wanted the GFE. His primary desire was to have sex with Angelique Ice, to do things to her that his wife hadn’t allowed him to do in a year or so, to feel a body that was still young and semi-tight, to hear a woman moan as though she were enjoying herself as a result of something he was doing. But, beyond that, Don wanted to fall asleep with a woman who wasn’t his wife and to wake up with her. Don said, “Well, I only brought eight hundred with me. I have another hundred and twenty, but I can’t cover sixteen hundred.”

Angelique said, “Then we can just do the hour date. Or for the extra hundred and twenty I guess I could let you do anal, even though it’s usually an extra three hundred.”

Don said, “There’s no negotiating for the GFE, then, I guess.”

Angelique sat on the chair across from the bed and took off her shoes. She said, “There’s always negotiation, but I can’t do GFE for that low.”

Don took that to mean that she would be going on other “dates” as soon as she was done with Don. He wondered if he was the first of the night for Angelique Ice, or if she had just come from another “date.” He thought about asking her but assumed it was against protocol, and more than that, it was something he didn’t really want to know.

Don thought about having anal sex with Angelique, about whether it would be worth all the money he had on him. He had seen videos of Stoya engaging in anal sex and seeming to enjoy it. He hadn’t had anal sex with his wife in what he calculated was around five years. He said, “Okay, let’s do nine-twenty then.”

Angelique said, “So you want anal?”

Don said, “Yeah.”

Don could already tell he was going to have to do this at least one more time. He was going to have to get the GFE. Angelique said, “So you place your donation on the table now, and then we start our date.”

Don took out the envelope, laid it on the table, and then took out the one hundred and twenty dollars he had in his wallet and put that next to it. Angelique opened it and counted the money. Don said, “So, do we make small talk now, or do we just get right to it? I mean, do you want to hear about what I do for a living or something?”

Angelique said, “If you want to tell me, you can,” as she took off her blouse, revealing her black lingerie. Don looked at her pale skin and medium-sized breasts. He became excited at the thought of having anal sex with her, an act that would be happening within an hour’s time. Don tried to calm himself, not wanting to seem overanxious or to ejaculate prematurely. He wanted to get the full hour if he could. He said, “Well, I’m an account services manager at Stanley.”

Angelique removed her skirt, revealing panties that matched her bra. She turned around and bent over, giving Don a view of her buttocks. To Don they were almost perfect. He could see the hint of cellulite forming, but she was young enough that it didn’t take away from their shape. Still bent over, she reached between her own legs, pulled her panties to the side, and slid a finger over her own anus as she said, “So what does an account services manager do?”

Don could feel an erection forming. He was sure this would not last the entire hour as he said, “I coordinate daily sales activities regarding distributors. I also manage relationships with various accounts and ensure that all internal applicable projects are complete, and I occasionally assist with marketing programs relating to distributors.”

Angelique said, “That sounds really complicated,” as she turned around and approached the bed where Don was sitting.

Don said, “It’s not,” as she straddled him, took off his jacket, and unbuttoned his shirt. Don reached up and tried to pull her head toward his to kiss her, but she said, “That’s only with the GFE.”

Don said, “Oh, sorry, I don’t really know the protocol or anything.”

Angelique said, “It’s okay,” then slid off his lap and unbuckled his belt. She unzipped his pants and took them off along with his shoes and socks. She turned around again and sat on Don’s lap facing away from him. They were both still wearing underwear, but Don was on the verge of ejaculating already.
This is what it’s like to actually be attracted to the person you’re having sex with
—this ran through Don’s mind as Angelique removed her bra and panties and turned to face him.

Don found her body attractive. She had smallish breasts and a little extra weight in certain places, but nothing that made her look fat, just curvy. She was by no means perfect, but Don was aware of the fact that he didn’t live in New York or Los Angeles. For a girl who made a living as a prostitute in his town, she was very attractive. He said, “Can I touch your boobs, or . . . ?”

Angelique said, “You can do anything you want to me, but you can’t kiss me. I mean, you can’t hit me or anything, either, but you can touch them, lick them, whatever.”

Don put his mouth on her right nipple. It became hard immediately, and she moaned. He knew the moaning was most likely an act, but it was an act she did well, and Don found himself giving in to the illusion she was trying to create for him. It was what he was paying nine hundred and twenty dollars for, after all.

Angelique Ice licked her palm and reached down to Don’s penis. She stroked it for a few seconds, until Don had to stop her before he ejaculated. She said, “You don’t want me to touch your cock?” Don didn’t want her to see that, after only the most rudimentary sexual interaction, he was already so aroused that he was on the verge of orgasm. Something in his male psyche wanted to show Angelique Ice that he was sexually adept, that if he were to become a repeat customer, her next interaction with him would be pleasurable for her—that, among all her clients, he was one of the best, one she looked forward to seeing. He said, “We should get a condom.”