by Kate Stone
I felt as though he were watching me already. I drew up a silhouette of him in my mind, a tall figure in shadow leaning against the corner, watching me bathe. My face warmed at the thought.
Eyes still closed, I lifted a leg out from under the bubble and rested my heel at the top of the tub. I used the same circular motions to trace the line from my ankle to my calf, and then under to the sensitive skin behind the knee. Then the other leg. I pulled the loofah down my thighs from my knees in long, deliberate strokes, feeling a foreign anticipation coil in the bottom of my stomach when I neared that private center of myself. I felt almost lightheaded.
As the water drained, I pulled my fluffy lavender towel down from the rack and wrapped it around myself with lethargic movements. I felt heavy and centered. I sat on the edge of the tub and lotioned my entire body, working moisture and smell of cocoa butter into my skin. Unlike the treatments at the spa, pampering myself this way felt like I was tuning into a secret harmony of my body. I was focused on nourishing every soft, supple inch of myself.
I returned to the mirror and stood there as the fog dissipated, revealing my reflection. Maybe I was reading too much into the moment, but it felt like an unveiling of a different person. This alternate version of me patted foundation onto her skin as if she could do it in her sleep, she dusted golden eyeshadow across her lids and curled mascara onto her lashes in a way that was almost glamourous. She painted her lips with a dusty rose color as if she herself had just bloomed. When she unpinned her hair, it cascaded down over her right shoulder and bounced. Even the damp locks of hair curling around her earlobes and the nape of her neck were endearing. I wondered if I was ready to be this person.
I flicked the lights back on, and blew out the candles, wondering if that would undo the spell of almost-confidence that had gilded my spine. But no, even under the harsh, fluorescent light and in nothing but a towel, I still felt it. I had primed myself into the type of person that I thought could walk into an unknown situation and do what needed to be done.
Amber had said to me "There’s nothing you can do about it now." Yes, I could still back out, return the deposit, and try to scrape things together by picking up another job or applying for a loan. But the ball was rolling. I’d committed this far and I wasn’t scared to take the next step. If anything, I looked forward to the relief of it being over after tonight, both the transaction and the invisible pressure of my virginity. In this moment, my body was a polished product. Now, I had to finalize the transaction.
Chapter 5
I padded down the hall to my bedroom and pulled out the only thing I owned that was nice enough for the occasion, a lacy black dress that I had bought when I first moved to the city. I had picked it out with the idea of one day being the type of college girl who went on dates or even girls’ nights on the town. I had thus far skirted all such opportunities, but no matter. Tonight would be a first for both me and the dress. And don’t they say that you can’t go wrong with a little black dress?
Paired with black suede pumps and small coffee-colored clutch, I felt… ready. I sent a text to Amber telling her that I was meeting Alex early and thanking her for including Liam in her plans tonight. I owed her big time. I took a deep breath, realized I wasn’t as nervous as I thought I would be and sent Alex a message telling him that I was ready to meet him. A few minutes later, he sent me a message saying that he was on his way to the hotel and that he’d see me soon.
Not wanting to lose my sudden drive, I immediately left my apartment and hailed a cab to take me to meet Alex. It was almost seven in the evening and time to sell my virginity. How appropriately unconventional.
On the ride there, I stared out of the backseat window and thought of all the tiny romances I’d experienced so far, wondering if they’d prepared me at all for tonight. There was Tommy, my grade school boyfriend who sometimes held my hand on the playground when he wasn’t playing tag with the other boys. I smiled at the innocence of it. That "relationship" had faded away the summer before we started seventh grade. In high school, I’d had the most enormous crush on this boy who worked at the library after school. I had liked him because he was quiet, like me, and must have had a similar love of books, but that had never developed beyond vague chit-chats at the check-out counter and a farewell hug right before he transferred schools. When I moved to the city as a bright-eyed freshman, it had been Amber (of course) who’d told me that I needed to up my self-esteem. I had shrugged away her compliments as much as I had her attempts to set me up with a "hot and sensitive theater dude." I did go on a date with a guy from my bioengineering program once. He took me to a new Thai restaurant that had opened up near campus, but had spent most of the date on his phone. He’d told me that he was bragging to his friends about how hot I was. In the end, I had still let him put his arm around me when he walked me back to the train station and when he kissed me, I didn’t pull away like I’d thought I would. I’d been acutely aware that I wasn’t at all attracted to him, but I was curious. It was wet and tasted like spicy basil. Curiosity satiated, I’d decided that the romance thing wasn’t for me yet.
The cab pulled up to the hotel and I took a second to steel myself as I paid my fare. It was a rather fancy high-rise with a doorman and everything. I channeled my fantasy red carpet walk and opened the dingy cab door. Regardless of the fact that no one was watching me, I slipped out as gracefully as I could muster and approached the hotel with my shoulders back and my chin up. The doorman held the door for me and I glided into a lush lobby as my phone chimed, sending my blood pressure spiking. It was from Alex.
"At the bar."
My brief flutter of worry that I wouldn’t be able to recognize Alex was there and gone the moment that I took two steps forward and my eyes swept the bar lounge. Never mind that it wasn’t exactly crowded at seven PM. Alex met my gaze and stood, buttoning his blazer jacket as if it were force of habit. His pictures did not do him justice. He was an easy six feet tall and clean-shaven with auburn hair. Damn, his shoulders were broad enough to block a doorway. He was wearing a crisp white shirt under his jacket and what had to be tailored dark wash jeans. They fit him perfectly. And his face… No complaints there. High cheekbones, an almost elegant nose, and a jawline that could chisel a mountainside; he was a handsome man. I’d definitely put an emphasis on the "man" descriptor. The only thing boyish about his appearance was the smile he flashed at me as I approached. His entire demeanor sang of easy confidence. Mr. Pragmatic definitely projected the aura of a man who knew what he wanted and how to get it.
I think I discovered the meaning of feeling "butterflies" in that moment, and my empowered façade crumbled. I felt, one hundred percent, like a little girl playing dress up. Chin up, Casey. You’re already here. It was a sad little pep talk but it’d have to do, I could only walk so slowly.
"Hi, I’m Casey." I introduced myself, nearly walking into his outstretched hand.
There was that smile again. Was I supposed to be attracted to the man buying my body?
"Alex. I’ve been eager to meet you. Please, sit." He stepped to the side and guided me to the seat next to his.
"Yeah. It seems a long time coming. I mean, it’s only been a day." I tried to make my hop onto the seat at least a smidge short of pathetic, but I’m only five foot two inches. Barstools have always been a particular enemy of mine.
"Would you like a drink?" Alex asked. He got bonus points for pretending not to notice my awkwardness.
"That’d be great, thank you. What are you having?"
Alex caught the eye of the bartender and ordered two glasses of chardonnay.
"Unless," He turned to me and asked "you’d prefer something stronger?"
I thought about the handful of mimosas and vodka lemonades I’d downed throughout the course of the day, and the twinge of a headache I felt between my eyebrows. As tempting as it was to drunkenly stumble through my foray into my first time with a man, I thought it would be better to keep my wits about me. As well, an unreasonably l
arge part of me was intrigued enough by Alex to not want to check out from the reality of this situation.
"No, wine is perfect," I said.
"Are you hungry?"
"Okay, twenty questions—" I blurted and then felt myself turn so red I was glad that I didn’t put on any blush before I left the apartment. "Ah… Sorry. Nerves. I’m not quite hungry yet, you?"
Maybe I could use my virginity money to buy a big black hole to disappear into. A few heavy, silent moments passed and Alex didn’t say anything. I could feel his bright brown eyes boring into me and I was about to crumble into a pile of pretty pieces.
His sudden bark of laughter nearly made me jump back off the barstool. I looked up at him, wide-eyed, and couldn’t help but muster a wavering smile myself.
"You’re cute. And I don’t mean that in a patronizing way. You’re refreshingly honest with your emotions. It’s okay to be nervous. Why don’t I tell you a bit about me, then you can return the favor? Let me know if you change your mind," he said, setting his hand on the bar, palm up. "About food or anything else."
"That… sounds good." I took his hand. This was worlds apart from our handshake. I let my hand rest in his, taking in his warmth and the smoothness of his skin. His thumb traced a slow circle on the inside of my wrist and his gentle touch calmed me down.
"As you know," he began, "my name is Alexander Quinn. I connect businesses that want to sell things to companies that want to buy things, but I won’t bore you with the details, except to say that it’s surprisingly lucrative to be the middle man. I have a deep appreciation for good sushi, lengthy vacations, and nature documentaries. I enjoy solving problems at work, but prefer things to be simple and straight-forward in all other aspects of my life. I’m a dog person."
It was a short biography, but from the moment that he started to speak, I felt myself relaxing into the situation. There was something about how at ease he was with our meeting that reassured me. It was different from my tipsy confidence spike. He was taking the reins and I was happy to let him do so. He was even providing a conversation template. The student in me was delighted.
I brought my glass of chardonnay to my lips with my free hand.
"I’m Casey Lively. Student. I have a couple more years before I graduate with a degree in Bioengineering, but I work in a coffee shop for now because the hours are better for school and all. I also like sushi. Especially salmon sashimi. But pasta is my greatest love. I like horror movies. And I’ve never actually been on a real vacation. I don’t think I’d know what to do with myself. But I like, um, puzzles. Things that make sense. I’m more of a cactus person."
Wow. I don’t think I could be more boring if I tried.
"An bioengineer who likes horror movies, do they remind you of your work?" Alex asked.
"Well, I’m not sure that I ever put too much thought into it." I said. "I suppose that in the movies, it’s all so over-the-top and unrealistic. They sort of exist in two separate spheres for me."
"And the cacti?"
"Well, they don’t need all that much attention. After a long day of school, it’s kind of nice to come home to quiet. I have a cactus that I named Bo and it’s a prickly thing that sits on my windowsill and doesn’t demand a single thing except to be watered every couple of weeks. I like that."
Alex laughed again. "Alright, I can see it. I like the way you look at things."
No one had ever said they like the way I looked at things. My father thought I was "Thank you." I blushed. "Cheers."
Our glasses clinked.
"What do you like about dogs?" I asked. He traced another circle across my skin and I flushed, remembering my bath earlier, how I’d washed my entire body in sensual circles just like that. I wondered I he would touch me like this all over, and I realized I was starting to look forward to heading upstairs to our room.
"I like how straight-forward they are. If you take care of a dog, train it well, then you always know where you stand with it. It’s a companion you can count on." He smiled. "Though I don’t think I’ve ever stopped to think about it like that."
A comfortable silence sat between us. Alex gestured to the bartender for another round of drinks. Maybe I was reading too much into what he said about a straight-forward companion, but I couldn’t help but think of what Tiffany said about me being "one of Mr. Quinn’s young women." Even though I shouldn’t have cared, I wondered if that’s why Mr. Pragmatic used the auction site. In theory, if one pays for a certain kind of companionship, then one has a certain grasp on the confines of said relationship. There is a simplicity to controlled expectations, I guessed. It made sense. I couldn’t help but wonder who or what it was that got him to such a jaded lifestyle. Oh goodness, and here I was psychoanalyzing the millionaire paying for me to fit inside those expectations.
"What made you want to be an engineer?" Alex asked me, jarring me from my rumination. I found it difficult to believe that he was actually interested, but his voice was sincere. For all that this should have been the shadiest interaction of my life, I wasn’t getting any bad vibes or red flags from him.
Then I processed his question.
"Oh..." I wasn’t sure if I was ready to share that. I sipped my wine.
"Too personal?"
"Well, I guess I don’t mind." I said. And I didn’t, it’s just that I didn’t often go around sharing my sob story. Unless you count Amber. But Amber was… Amber. She seemed to have that effect on everybody. "My little brother and I didn’t exactly have the best home life. Our mom died of cancer when Liam was about three. Our dad didn’t handle it well, and I think he never accepted that he was our only parent. If mom had lived our lives would have been much different. As it was, it was rough for us."
I took a second to collect my thoughts. Way to throw a pity party.
"I guess that when it comes to mental complications, dad not handling things well, that stuff doesn’t make sense to me. I never knew how to fix that. But healing illness with technology, that does make sense. That’s something that I can fix. Sorry, you probably weren’t asking for all that."
"No, no apologies, remember?" He tapped the stem of his wine glass. "I can relate, to an extent."
It was clear that we weren’t about to launch into a therapy session, despite me spilling my guts. I didn’t blame him. There was something weird happening with Alex’s face though. It was like he was simultaneously trying to figure me out and also keep a definitive wall standing between us.
"Have you changed you mind?" he asked.
"That’s a loaded question." I seemed to have decided to stop pretending to be less awkward, or frank, or whatever I was. All pretenses had gone out the window. Now that I was more relaxed, I realized I liked him. I liked how he was genuinely interested in me and my thoughts.
"About food?"
I shook my head and impulsively decided to lob the question right back at him. "No. What about you? Have you changed you mind?"
There was that look again. Like I was an equation he was trying to decipher, or an uncategorized ‘something’ he was trying to fit into a box. He pushed away his wine glass and leaned towards me.
"I have an appetite..." he said. "But perhaps it is too early for dinner after all."
I think every function in my body short-circuited. My breath caught. My stomach lurched. My skin flushed. Was I really doing this?
Alex continued, "How about we order some more wine up to the room?"
Apparently my vocabulary was taking a temporary hiatus as well, because I only nodded. I was doing this. Alex stood without letting go of my hand and led me to across the lobby to the elevator. I held my clutch close to me as if that would keep the butterflies in my stomach from transforming into angry pigeons. The inside of the elevator was paneled with mirrors, so as the doors whirred closed in front of us, I was treated to an outsider’s view of how we looked together. I was getting serious House of Wonder vibes. He was nearly twice my size. In fact, I was certain that if I stood behind him, I’d disappe
ar. As it was, my reflection looked mildly terrified. I needed to get a grip. Alex let go of my hand and draped his arm around my waist.
Oh. A shiver ran up the length of my spine and across my scalp. That was a new feeling. The elevator dinged upwards, floor by floor. I felt his fingertips trace a figure eight on the small of my back through my dress. The elevator stopped on the twelfth floor and the doors slid open. He began to lead me towards a door at the end of the hall.
He unlocked the door and held it open for me. "Go on."
If I was going to leave, now would be the time. I looked up at him, searching his eyes. He looked back and smiled at me, that same smile from his profile picture, and my insides melted.
He led me across the suite to a couch and sat me down on it. He knelt on the floor and slipped one of my shoes off, and then the other.
Alex shrugged his jacket off and draped it over the arm of the couch. His gaze rolled over me appreciatively and I could only be grateful that the little black dress hadn’t let me down. Soon, his hands were touching me again, tracing the shape of my hips and then circling around my waist to the small of my back. He paused then, his face inches from mine.
"Are you sure?" he asked me, hands completely still. His entire body was poised to back off if I asked. He was giving me the chance to back out if I wanted to. "The money is yours, no matter what you decide now. You can go and never see me again, no strings attached."
I didn’t want to back out. In the short time we’d been talking I had started to fall for him, hard. Finally, I was feeling the romantic feelings I had expected to feel with other guys. I wasn’t thinking about the transaction. I wasn’t even thinking about the fact that I was a virgin. I was curious about him, about what he’d do, about this moment that was about to happen between us.