Three Sides of the Coin (Catherine I) (14 page)

             
Catherine didn't know what to do with her feelings.  She was a control freak who needed everything to go her way, but she felt she understood what Cynthia had enjoyed.   But she pushed the thought out of her mind as unreasonable and impractical.  It would take freakish good luck to find a rough but safe man to ravish her with no commitment and no repercussions.    And once a fling like that occurred it would end badly in one of two ways.  She would want more and wouldn't be able to get that lucky that often.  No, that was impossible.  The other choice, the more likely choice, would be that it wouldn't be at all good and she would spend the rest of her life regretting it.  It was not worth the risk.  No, not at all.

             
Cynthia shrugged off her thoughts and continued questions on kindness, courtesy, status, self-esteem, sociability, and sensuality.   Catherine found herself exposing more of her soul than she thought possible.   And what fascinated her was how she was, at the same time, opening the kimono on who she was and discovering how little she knew.   She had, in the past year or so, discovered not only her sexually dominant side with Steven, but a craving for the almost tantric side of sensual exploration with Mike.   As she rose to majestic queenly feelings of power as she stood over Steven's adoring form, she was moving away from the vanilla bi-weekly sex ritual.   To balance that excitement, she found herself looking forward to the soft touches of Mike stroking her flanks, admiring her animal form, praising her choice of lingerie.  He pretended that it was all an objective appraisal, required of the clothing adviser.  But she knew that, even if he didn't like women as much as men, he found her attractive in more than a formal admiration as in of a lovely art project or lean sensual animal at the zoo.   Maybe someday she would turn him "to the dark side," as he called it.   She allowed herself a quick smile with the thought of Mike suddenly engaged in the world of ‘heterosex’ and how bizarrely out of control he would appear. With the events of the past months, she found herself replacing the mild bliss of the marital sex act with two vastly different thrills: the powerful sexual dominance of a man, making her feel invincible, and the ever so soft, but strong delight of just being, sensing, existing in a sweet fashion.

             
As Cynthia bombarded her with these questions, her answers became more open, unguarded and existential.   She realized, even as she would answer truthfully, she didn't really know herself, exactly how she would feel, but only how now felt, or how she felt once.  Was there something out there that could change her again, like Steve's transformation had, and still was changing how she saw and felt herself?   Her answers, as the hour rapidly progressed, began to include more and more, the words like 'on the other hand,' 'but,' and 'yet.'    And as much a control freak as she was, as much as she was proud of who she was and what she represented, she was finding herself comfortable with her new-found ambivalence.  And she hoped for the chance to do this job.  She knew something good was in it for her, something unknown, something she would conquer.  Discovery was her new art.

             
The fourth hour found her being measured in directions she couldn't imagine, this time physically.  Cynthia explained that often the events to which she would escort people required some form of costume or dress that would likely not be found in her, or any, closet and very probably would need to be constructed.  Costume parties and formal dances would require some custom decoration, hats for hay rides or a day at the beach, or last minute events would occasion a quick purchase, despite a reasonable facsimile being in her closet a thousand miles away in Phoenix.   It amused her at how tight they thought the outfits must be as most of the measurements were performed on her nude body.   She inwardly enjoyed the awed praise of the two women for her body.   She knew how much both Steven and Mike had admired her physique, but she credited most of that to the horny nature of men, indiscriminant in its lust.    But she knew the women had no such inclination and their comments were all the more appreciated for their lack of bias.

             
Finally, the interview was over.  Catherine went to lunch and went back to her hotel room and laid herself down, exhausted.  The phone ringing woke her at about 3 o'clock and she returned to see Cynthia.

             
"The board met and we think we can use you."  Cynthia announced, as Catherine tried to imagine the composition of the board and what they must have discussed.  Did they think of her as a set of test scores, capable of bringing in so many dollars per year, or as a high flying asset that would likely burn out in the candle flame of wealthy, ennui-laden dilettantes, a naive victim to the cruel jabs of rich egos needing the lift at the cost to some wannabe?  Was this merely business or was this an art for them?  She knew she would never really find out and moved her thoughts to the more practical elements of the job. 

             
"We'll need an account number to deposit your commissions.   This is a legal enterprise, so you will need to fill out the proper tax forms.   You should really use Arizona as your base, just to avoid the California state taxes.   You will be paid half when the client arranges for an escort, which you may keep if he should cancel, and that does happen.   The other half will go directly to your account on midnight of the escort.  Any dresses or jewelry the client has you wear will be returned to him, the rental outfit or wherever they were obtained, unless he chooses to give them to you.  You will have to work out the tax obligations on your own.  We will neither expect a commission on that sort of stuff, nor get involved with the transaction at all."

             
"At this time, we are looking through several possible bookings for you and will put your resume before the clients.   We like to only forward book one individual at a time, so it will be a first come, first serve sort of thing.  It works best we have found, if the client likes you, that they can feel free to keep you as an exclusive.   Sometimes the chemistry is like that.  You might remind them of a sister, mother, niece or old girlfriend and assuming that is a good feeling, they could then 'lock you in.’ If that should happen, you will be given an extra 10%.   That is not a lot more, we know, but if it is comfortable for you it could be a nice candle on the cake.   You still have the option of turning down a return date, but it would be best if you do that right away, so we can line up an alternative for him.  And you shouldn't do it often, lest you get a reputation for being difficult.  But even then, there are some men who like to break the wild filly.  So, if that is your intent, it might happen.  But, I can see that is not you.'

             
"You will need to give us a schedule of openings.  We will be sure not to book you for times that are inconvenient, like the week of the family re-union or on your wedding anniversary, you know, those awkward times."

             
Cynthia paused to give Catherine a chance to absorb all of that and ask any questions.  "You seem very comfortable with me as a married woman." Catherine said, almost, but not quite a question.

             
Cynthia waggled her head, and with a hand shrug admitted, "I suppose so.  Married women understand the rules better.   Usually, at least the ones we select, they have a contented, if not happy, marriage and this is merely a business opportunity.  They are not gold diggers, the absolute reason why these men come to us in the first place.   They generally enjoy the pure experience and are not trying to stretch this into a long term gig.   So their expectations of the men are low, which will often be met and there will be no unhappiness on that front.  So it works well all around."

             
"If there any more questions, here is my card.  I am sure there will be something.  There always is and we put you through the ringer today.  It would take a grand mind to keep her cool through all of this and imagine every single appropriate question. “Cynthia stood and offered her hand.  "Welcome aboard, and it was a pleasure to meet you.  I expect wonderful things from you."

             
Catherine rose, shook her hand and returned the compliment and went back to the hotel room where she left a message for Mike to contact her when he got out of the client meeting.

             
They met for dinner and she was so excited.  "I have sold my body.  Do you think I have sold my soul as well?"

             
"Geez, Catherine," he said with a smile, "If I known you were selling out, I'd have bought it myself!"

             
"You can't afford my rates," she sniffed.

             
"What's it take? How bad can the damages be?  Don't I get the pretty face discount?" 

             
"I suppose I could take a buck or two off, for someone who is so important to my life."

             
"Whoa Nellie, what's that? A fifty percent off for friends and neighbors discount?"

             
Catherine pouted prettily, "So that is all you think I'm worth?  Four dollars?  That's not funny."

             
"Well, it would be if I could just get you to laugh," Mike said with a gentle smile.  "Are you nervous?"

             
"I don't know....  Maybe...yes, I'm really scared!"

             
He took her hand and patted it and they sat there quietly for a few minutes.  "I feel so safe with you," she said quietly.  "You are a very good friend."

             
"I won't let anything happen to you.  I checked that service out thoroughly before I let you go there.  No one gets hurt, not seriously hurt.  There is the occasional budding love conflict, but that could happen at the corner office just as easily.  And I'll be watching carefully.  If you get too close to the cliff's edge, I'll pull you back."

             
She smiled, "You'll be my Heathcliff?  Save me from the Victorian drudgery?"

             
"Jane Eyre?" He asked, astonished. "I come up with this kind service, and all you can do is come up with some Jane Eyre thing?"

             
"Well,” she offered, “You got me thinking that with the cliff's edge thing."

             
"Cliff, Heathcliff. Did that interview take all your art appreciation away?"

             
"It was rather draining.  I am really tired."  She said with a yawn.

             
He signaled for the bill and walked her to her room.  He took her room key, unlocked and opened the door and held it open.  "You look lovely tonight,” he said with a sweet smile.

             
"You're a dear to be so generous with your compliments.  I really must look like ragdoll, worn out from that entire interview."  With that she gave him a peck on the cheek and went into her room, closing the door gently behind her.   She mused over the day as she stood before the mirror, blotting and wiping her eye makeup away with cotton balls of remover.   She felt, knew that her life was going to change.  She imagined wonderful, she imagined regret, she even imagined tense anxiety, but she never imagined she might be risking her marriage.  She knew she would never let it come to that. 

             
As she crawled into bed, her eyes closed and in her deep dreams she found herself talking to a an addict in an alley, who explained to her how the drugs tricked her, how up until her addiction, she knew she was in full control.  With a shrug, the addict explained.  "No addict ever plans on being out of control.  They just like it so much, they forget that they care."   It was perhaps unfortunate that it was a long time before she remembered that dream again, and understood what her unconscious mind was trying to say at the beginning of her journey.

Chapter 10:   Captain Jack-1

              Things happened relatively quickly after that.  Two weeks later, Steven was in Portland, Oregon and Catherine found herself, alone in Boston with an undemanding client, while Mike had to dash to Miami to put out a fire with a client who, among other things, had suddenly grown un-fond of a shade of green they had demanded on the exterior stucco, over his objections,  a month before.  "More dollars than sense," was Mike's last mutter as she made travel arrangements.  Monday afternoon delivered a message to her cell phone from Cynthia.

             
"You will be contacted by someone who will use the name, 'Captain Jack.'  Apparently that is all he wants you to know for now.  I think he is taking you to the symphony, so you might want to research the works they will be playing this week.  The first deposit is already in your account.  Call me if there are any issues, either before or after the meet.   I'll assume all is well, if I don't hear anything.  I'll give you a call next week, regardless."

             
Catherine found herself slightly trembling with the very idea with this progression.  She checked her design account and felt a surge of confidence from the sight of the money.   She knew she didn't want to return the money and that helped overcome her trepidations over meeting another man, someone who wasn't her beloved Steven, or even her ever reliable friend Mike.   She rationalized that she was doing this for Steven, providing an opportunity to provide a more beautiful home for him, without the risk of him losing a finger to a saw, a bruise to a hammer, or even a life to a fall.   She loved him too much to allow him to sacrifice as much as she had already.   She knew he would walk through fire for her, and she felt it was not too much to ask herself to walk through a symphony hall for him, she thought with a smile.