independent in, say, Vail, or wherever else you like. Is that better?"
Shasta couldn't speak; better was an understatement. A new life, away from Justin, away from the streets, where she could work as often (or as little) as she pleased, accept only those clients she liked, charge as much as she could take, and keep it all. That seemed like paradise to a doxy of her status. The only thing better would be to catch a young, handsome multimillionaire like Julia Roberts did in Pretty Woman.
She realized her expression must have displayed just how much it really did appeal to her when Clarrisa chuckled with self-amused triumph. "I see that it is. Well then, if you accept my offer, I would like to get started right away. My son is taking a nap upstairs and I want you to be there when he wakes up."
Those words snapped Shasta back to reality. "Just hold it a minute. You still haven't explained what's going on. All that money won't do me any good if you son's idea of kicks is roasting me on a spit."
Clarrisa looked honestly shocked, but then she let loose a quick, barking laugh before getting control of herself. "Whatever gave you that idea?"
"It wouldn't be the first time some society bitch provided her psychopathic son with victims to keep anyone from finding out."
Clarrisa frowned deeply and narrowed her eyes, but her face also went pale. Shasta figured she had just hit pretty close to the mark, but that realization frightened her.
However, Clarrisa shrugged and looked resigned. "Very well. I suppose you will need to know anyway, to do your job properly. I hesitated only because it is personally embarrassing, and frankly I didn't want to reveal anything you could later use against me. But...no matter. It's all very simple. You see, my son is a recluse. In fact, he hasn't been out of this house his entire life. As such, he has never had the opportunity to, shall we say, gain experience."
"Never?!"
Clarrisa shook her head. "I'm afraid not. He was always a studious boy."
The whole situation had become very strange. "But what does that have to do with me?" She had a suspicion what the answer would be.
Instead, Clarrisa fooled her. "To understand that, I must tell you about Peter's father--Peter's my son, by the way."
Peter MacCandels. That name sounded vaguely familiar, but Shasta lost her train of thought as Clarrisa continued.
"You see, his father and I were never married. We were not even what you would call friendly. We were lovers merely as a matter of convenience: we both had something the other wanted. He had wealth, power, and influence, and I had a womb to provide him with an heir. And I was tired of waiting on tables in truck stops. As such, when one of his associates offered me a million dollars to be impregnated, I agreed.
"Peter's...conception is the gentlest word I can think of...was not pleasant. It took several tries before I became pregnant, and his father was unnecessarily brutal. Nonetheless, afterwards he had no further use for me. He paid the million, plus an extra amount to cover the hospital expenses, and charged me with raising Peter to manhood. He provided tutors while I used my fee to become financially independent, but when Peter had learned everything his father required of him, it was left to me to prepare him to receive his birthright.
"All his father ever cared about was that Peter satisfy him that he could effectively take over and manage his affairs, but to me Peter was--is--my whole life. Everything I have done has been for his benefit, to try to make him into something his father would be proud of. Maybe I made a mistake somewhere along the line, but Peter in fact turned into a great disappointment to his father. He ended up a dreamer, interested only in art, literature, and study, which was not at all what his father wanted. I believe that Peter simply received the wrong combination of genetic traits from the two of us, but his father blames me. He has made it very plain that if, by his twenty-first birthday, Peter has not changed or redeemed himself, I will suffer for it. I am not concerned for myself, though I should be. He is very powerful, and could make my life a horror if he truly wanted to. It's Peter I'm worried about, because his father would surely repudiate him if he cannot please him. And what would become of him if I am not able to protect him I cannot bear to think about."
Throughout, Clarrisa had been careful to maintain her mask of casual superiority, but Shasta noticed that as she talked her voice steadily became quieter and more somber, as her true feelings showed themselves. Shasta understood that she loved her son deeply and that she would do whatever she felt necessary to keep him secure.
Still: "I'm very sorry for you and Peter, but I still don't understand how any of this involves me."
Perhaps it was because Shasta had expressed sympathy for her problem, but when Clarrisa continued her voice had become firmer and lighter. "As I said, Peter can redeem himself, but to do so he must provide an heir of his own. The problem has been Peter's lack of experience. Oh, he likes girls well enough, fascinated by them in fact. But he hasn't shown the slightest interest in making love to any of the women I have presented to him. That's why I'm hoping you will be able to, shall we say, spark his interest."
Shasta got a cold feeling in the pit of her abdomen. "I see. And you want me to get him to impregnate me."
Clarrisa burst out laughing, so hard it took her a few moments to catch her breath. "Good heavens, my dear! No, no, I have a much more suitable girl in mind for that."
That's certainly a relief. "But if you don't want me to become pregnant, then why do you want me to seduce him?"
"My dear, haven't you been listening? My son cannot make any woman pregnant because he doesn't know how. I need you to be a surrogate. I want you to show him how it's done, to initiate him in the pleasures of the flesh."
"So to speak."
"Quite so. Will you do it?"
She noticed a pleading quality to her eyes that no amount of self-control could hide, but it might have been purposeful. The expression reminded her of a basset hound she had when she was a little girl. Actually, Clarrisa need not have used the big, sad, soulful eyes routine, because Shasta suddenly found the whole idea very attractive. She always wondered what it would be like to be in total control, giving instructions instead of receiving them. And she found the challenge inspiring, even more so than the money. She had become so enamored in fact that she only peripherally entertained the question of why Clarrisa wanted to hire a prostitute instead of a professional sex surrogate. She decided that it really didn't matter, so long as she could do the job herself.
"Yes, I'll do it." She nodded her head, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. "In fact, it sounds like it would be grand fun."
Clarrisa seemed to visibly relax, as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "Excellent. Then let's get started; we haven't much time. Stand up."
Shasta did so. Clarrisa stood herself, then took Shasta's hands and positioned her a short distance away from the table.
"Take off your clothes."
Shasta felt her jaw drop as her eyes popped out. "Here? Now?"
"Yes, yes!" She made an impatient gesture. "I want to see if you are stimulating enough."
Shasta felt her cheeks and neck grow warm as she blushed, feeling uncomfortable. "Ah, no, I think it would be better if I undressed in front of him; more erotic that way."
"But you don't understand, I've shown him pictures of naked women and he has been suitably aroused each time, but any woman he has met personally has been fully clothed. I don't believe he's made the connection between the two images."
"Oh, now, wait a minute. That's ridiculous, unless he's a simpleton or something."
Clarrisa's expression turned cold and she gripped Shasta's left upper arm hard enough to hurt. When she spoke, her voice had an edge to it sharp enough to draw blood. "My son has an IQ of 280, but he is incredibly naive about many basic things." Her tone then turned commanding. "As I've said, we haven't much time, so do as I say." And she released Shasta with a slight push.
There had been times in her life when Shasta had been physically scared, but even when in the clut
ches of a sadistic client she had always managed to remain calm and in control. Clarrisa's sudden change in manner terrified her in a way no physical threat ever had and it left her delirious. She hastily complied as Clarrisa scrutinized her in a critical manner. It didn't take her long. All she had been wearing was a tube-top and a pair of short-shorts, with no underwear or hose. She even removed her knee-high boots, though she didn't know why. She just instinctively felt that Clarrisa had demanded she denude herself completely. Only after she finally stepped away from her tiny pile of clothes did she remember the nook was enclosed on three sides by glass. The alcove and its contents would be clearly visible to anyone outside, and the fact that the mansion stood alone in the country over twelve miles outside of Denver did not prevent her arms from reflexively covering herself.
With her face a stony mask, Clarrisa circled Shasta as if she examined a priceless statue. When she came back around in front of her, however, she smiled, though still somewhat coldly. She stepped up closer and gently pulled Shasta's arms down to her sides. Then she laid the fingertips of both hands on her shoulders. Slowly she traced a line down around the outsides of her voluminous breasts, across her stomach, and then along the edges of her hips, before dropping off her thighs. Finally she stepped back and grinned.
"Fantastic!" She seemed to gush with
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