Three Sides of the Coin (Catherine I) (13 page)

             
The next day broke quiet and cool, both things surprised me.  The cool weather was nice, a cool front moved in overnight and the newscaster on somebody's transistor radio said that the Canadians owed us one after the blackout. 

             
The quiet was eerie.   Since the subway was due to be down for another day, most all the stores in downtown Manhattan would be grossly understaffed and so they did not even offer to be open.   With no stores, there were no people, and with no people, there was little need for taxis.   We found out that we could walk about 30 blocks to the Upper East Side where we heard there was a pocket of electricity and sure enough there was.  The food was good, not out-priced and hot.  We walked slowly back through Central Park and enjoyed the extra solitude it offered.   It was quiet and as we passed by Barney's, Catherine discovered it was open.  It was the only store open in all of Manhattan and she found it!  They had an emergency generator and they taxied all their employees in to staff it.  Not too surprisingly, we weren't the only ones in the store.  People who like to shop will find a way I suppose.  While the other people bought, Catherine did not.  She was a shopper not a buyer, and Barney's pricing was a little too stiff for her.  I suppose I should have offered to buy something for her, but that would have been too much like buying her services, and that was nothing I wanted to feel.   As odd as the night before was, I wanted to believe, to feel, that we had a connection of some weird type.

             
At four o'clock the electricity kicked back in, earlier than they had projected.  We had our rooms and our hot water back, and we did not have the awkward decision about what to do about the evening.   I was amazed at how out of control I felt about the whole thing and how uncertain the implications of the event.   Catherine plowed through those waters effortlessly.   It seemed like a non-event to her.   Having me wring my dolphin for her was no big deal, another little step in a two way relationship.  I did not feel that cavalier about all of this.   I think I failed to appreciate the traumatic and dramatic changes in her world.   Once I realized how fast things were moving in her world, I began to see how that night might have been close to forgettable for her.  I, however, was forever marked.

Cha
pter 9:   The Agency

             
"I'm glad you arrived on time," the brunette said to Catherine, extending a sheaf of papers.  "This will take, at least, all morning.  And if we want to find out if you are a good fit today, we'll need to get right on it."

             
Catherine, drawing the stack of papers to herself, took in the vividly green-eyed woman sitting across from her.  She wore a black jacket and mid-thigh skirt combo.  Her, not insignificant, breasts thrust up from her very low cut magenta silk camisole top.  Her sheer black stockings flashed the garter attachments as the woman crossed her long legs.  She wore high platform heels which, all in all, conveyed an image of an incredibly self-confident woman.  With pale-lipsticked full lips, the woman was soaked in sensuality. 

             
Intimidated, a bit, with both the sexy woman and the paperwork, Catherine turned her eyes to the questionnaire.  The phone call had come the day before, at the hotel in San Francisco, warning her of the long event that now faced her.  Mike told her that he would take the follow-on meeting with the clients to go over the kitchen colors.   She regretted not being there as that was her role in this partnership, but Mike laughed, reminding her that this particular set of clients always had to have at least three meetings before they felt comfortable about making any design choices, and this was only the second round.  "Don't worry.  We are at least 2 weeks away from making a definitive color choice.  You can take the time.  Besides, you need to get this gig if you expect to get enough money to finish your house in the next decade."  

             
She knew he was right and put the anxiety to the back of her mind while she puzzled over the questions.  They seemed to be all over the place and she wondered if there was a random question generator at work here, or a deep psychological study on distraction and concentration; or a subtle set of questions aimed at sussing out whether the victim of this quiz was lying or consistent over the two hour examination.  With a sigh, she trudged through the questions. 

             
La Boheme is a:  a.) Symphony b.)Opera  c.)Restaurant d.) Town south of Paris in France

             
The 'Organ Symphony’ was written by: a.)Bach b.)Saint-Saens c.) Mendelssohn d.)Handel

             
True-False:  The salad fork should be found at the top of the plate.

             
True-False:  When introducing two people, introduce the woman to the man first.

             
True-False: Never applaud between movements in a symphony, only at the end.

              
After two hours of art, music and etiquette questions, Catherine looked up feeling like her brain had been drug across burning coals.  She had been raised in a mid-American culture of reasonable limits.  She never chewed with her mouth open, would never even imagine herself rude to anyone, knew the difference between a symphony and a Choral work, and knew which fork to use as long as the quantity of silverware did not exceed 6 pieces (Her two stand bys: 1.) Always take from the outside in and 2.) Watch and follow your host).   But the test seemed to require someone reared by the queen mother, but wouldn't know how to bake a loaf of bread or know where to store the vacuum.  She worried that she would be found lacking as a courtesan, an escort.  Her mission, her paid mission to make the man, an unknown but wealthy man feel comfortable would be at risk.  The ambivalent feelings she harbored that morning on the way to this meeting seemed less ambivalent now.  She wanted this job.  She wanted this challenge, and she was a bit depressed that she seemed to be letting herself down.

             
The third hour found her back with the sexy brunette, who, Catherine finally remembered in the middle of the test, was named Cynthia.  At first, Catherine was reluctant to call her that because it was merely a voice on the phone yesterday that was named Cynthia, but then the smoky voice of the woman before her confirmed her suspicions that they were one and the same.  Catherine had a pretty good spider sense about people.  This man, in ten words, could assure her that he was an ass.  In two sentences this woman was trustworthy, or this woman she would trust as far as she could throw a bull by the tail.  Cynthia, Catherine deemed, was a straight shooter.

             
"Well, are you sleeping with Mike?"  Was her stunning first question.

             
Catherine, blushing, did not hesitate for a second, "Of course not."  Even though they had been affectionate in their gestures during discussions and clothes buying trips, she knew the gist of the question was about having sex, not about being sensual. Besides, Mike being gay should have been a clue to Cynthia.  Perhaps this is a test of her discretion.

             
"I have to ask," the brunette continued, "I need to know if there will be conflicts for me to contend with."

             
Catherine felt a little wind come out of her sails.  "You
do
know that I am married?"

             
"Yes, of course," replied the other, "I knew that from the beginning." 

             
"I would consider that a potential conflict of interest, if I thought I was expected to have sex with the clients, which I really wasn't anticipating.  I thought this was about being a bauble on the arm of someone for show, not being a high priced call girl."

             
Cynthia gave a soft smile and said, "I think you have it right.  The husband thing, we find, is not often a problem.   Husbands and wives have rhythms of give and takes.  By the time the wives, or occasionally husbands, show up here, they both know how far they are willing to go.  New boy and girlfriends are a different thing altogether.  The thrills of the first flush of sexual relationships bring daring thoughts, but often fall prey to unimagined jealousies.  We can't risk any of this for those."

             
"My husband isn't to know. And I am
not
going to have sex with these men!  This is my presence and wit for money, not anything else."

             
Cynthia smiled broadly at this last.  "I completely understand, perhaps better than you.   We trust that you can lie, or bend the truth, enough to confuse or bedazzle your husband.  You might want to even hint that there is someone else to get his competitive nature going, but at the end, all you tell him is up to you.  And as far as we are concerned, sex between you and the other client is your business.  Our mission is to put matching minds and personalities together to allow the client to enjoy their limited time on this planet to its fullest.  Life is too short for bad blind dates.  Most of our clients have long since given up on true love and many even have sworn off relationship sex.  Too often loving sexual marriages end up in postnuptial court disasters.   Older men often find the time off the mattress, with a hint of sexiness, much more fulfilling than a post coital reflection on what to do next.  But sometimes,” she said with a shrug,” an inconsequential fling between two like minds clears the air and opens up a new adventure.  But," she continued after a thoughtful pause, "that is not the contract and we vet both you and the client so thoroughly, and keep key information at arm's length, so that there should be no threat of stalking or un-welcomed sexual advances.  Let us know if there is even a whiff of such a thing, immediately."  She said sternly.  "We have a very good reputation to uphold, in this regard."

             
"Let's get on with the psychological profile questions, shall we?"  Cynthia said after a pause.

             
Catherine nodded, and wondered, from one viewpoint if she was expecting too easy a paycheck and perhaps she was more naive than she imagined.  And from another viewpoint, she wondered if she was doing this for much more than a paycheck.  Perhaps she wanted to be less suburban, more a jet setter than she thought.  Perhaps she wanted to become more above the fray of everyday, buy the milk and feed the dog.  Perhaps her mind needed, or at least wanted to be carefree of everything other than enjoying the moment.  It seemed a guilty pleasure to want to have a life of ease with no commitment, no price to pay.  In fact, the job would pay her.  No, she was not that naive, there would be an ass at the other end of her arm sometimes, a leer she would have to ignore, a hideous looking troll she would have to appear to enjoy.  No, she knew there was no free ride.  She was enough of a capitalist to recognize money this big doesn't just happen because you were pretty and knew some art.  More had to be paid in exchange.  And if she was lucky, that more was a price she could pay; and if she was really lucky, she might find some sort of low risk excitement in it all, a story for old age, that wouldn't begin with the words :  "Once I had a chance, but passed on it to...."

             
"On a one to ten scale, ten being the most, how much do you like men?" Cynthia cocked her head at Catherine.

             
Catherine squeezed her lips together and, following a pause, said "Eight, I think.  Men are not perfect, they aren't quite women with a male apparatus.  They sometimes don't listen enough, but they are quite interesting and I don't think I would want to live in a world without them.  But they aren't perfect."

             
"Should men be obeyed, or ordered about?"

             
Catherine hesitated on this latest question.  "I don't know, a little of both.   I know men, some men, need the stress of decision making to be taken away from them, so they can relax.  That is why women like to take charge of the house, and men quietly wipe their feet as told and accept the meal given to them.  But, sometimes it is nice to know that a man will step up when the time comes.   It is nice to believe that he can protect me from the wolves, but will allow me to be me."

             
"Have you ever ordered a man around in bed?  And did you enjoy it?" 

             
Catherine blushed and wondered if the question was going too far, but reasoned the questions were psychological in nature, to find out how aggressive, or passive she would be.  "Yes, and I loved it!  While I know some women might argue that if you want something done right, you should do it yourself, I am of the school that says men like to please women; and if I let him know what I want, both of us will feel better about the whole thing."  She giggled.  "I never imagined what an ego trip it would be.  It was quite a turn on.  What about you?"

             
Cynthia smiled conspiratorially and nodded.  "I can be quite demanding.  It isn't for every man I am afraid.  There are some cavemen out there.  But even they have their uses."

             
"Really?" Catherine asked cautiously, but finding a glimmer of curiosity getting to her.  She wondered what it would feel like being plundered by some pirate, then felt a surge of infidelity to her husband with the thought.

             
"Oh, yes,” Cynthia laughed.  "A man who takes complete charge brings a whole other world into play, where you get to just act.  In fact, sometimes if you let your cave woman DNA take over, and submit to the alpha male, you feel like you are truly yourself for the first time.  It is scary and delightful at once."  The green eyed brunette paused for a second to stare at some memory and then turned her attention back to Catherine.  "Of course, as a human being they are completely unreliable and impractical, but for the purposes of a fling...." The thought drifted off into thin air.