But now I sort of wished he were here. He’d likely say something to make me feel better.
Desperately needing a distraction, I scrolled through my phone and came across the text message Annabelle had sent me containing the information for Newbury Gentleman’s Club. My curiosity got the best of me. Pulling up the website, I must have stared at the screen for over fifteen minutes.
The truth was, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the male escort thing since Annabelle’s and my conversation in the lunchroom.
My heart was pounding. Was I really doing this?
I told myself that I was just innocently checking it out, that I wasn’t really serious about it. An unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach, however, seemed to contradict that. And an inner voice that felt new and untrustworthy was telling me that I deserved this, to put my carnal needs first, that no one needed to know.
A box prompting the user to enter a password popped up onto the screen. If the code that Annabelle’s cousin had given me worked, then I would be convinced that was a sign. If it didn’t work, then I would walk away. After I punched the code in, I was diverted to another site.
I was in.
The page was black with gold accents and sleek fonts. A slow and seductive piano tune played. The site featured a detailed description of the club’s services. You could choose from a minimum half-day experience, full-day, or even an entire weekend, which seemed to be the maximum duration offered. The full-day rate was two-thousand dollars with the cheapest option being the half-day rate at a cool grand.
I clicked on a link titled Meet Our Gentlemen. It was essentially a menu of men, each numbered Gentleman One through Gentleman Twenty. A disclaimer noted that for the privacy of the men, photos would not be provided.
I began clicking through each profile, reading the descriptions.
Gentleman One is an actor by trade. He loves older women, gentle lovemaking, and intelligent conversation. With blond hair, blue eyes, and a tall, lean body, Gentleman One is an all-American dream. Celebrity Doppelgänger: Alexander Skarsgård.
Gentleman Four was born and raised in the Dominican Republic. Known as our gentle giant, with his massive frame and strong, muscular body, he’s often mistaken for a pro-wrestler. Celebrity Doppelgänger: Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson.
I read through them all, eventually returning to the one who had stood out the most: Gentleman Nine.
Gentleman Nine is a Southern gentleman, raised right. He believes chivalry isn’t dead, and his goal is to make you feel as comfortable as you will feel sexy. Celebrity Doppelgänger: Matt Bomer.
He had me at Matt Bomer.
Underneath the description was a button that said Contact Gentleman Nine. I entered my email address where it asked for it to activate the chat feature and began typing.
Hi,
My name is Amber, and I can’t even believe I am writing to you right now. I don’t even know what you look like or whether you’re a psychopath. Well, given the fact that my writing to you is essentially synonymous with trolling for sex, I guess the shady one in this equation is me. I’m really not…shady. I’m not unattractive or desperate, either. I’m sure you see your share of those types, but I felt the need to let you know that I’m not…gross. I’m twenty-five, svelte, and have been told that I’m attractive, although I don’t feel that I am the proper judge of that. I just want to be clear that I’m not contacting you because men aren’t interested in me. I could definitely find a man to sleep with if I wanted to deal with all of the other things that go along with that. I am not looking for a relationship. This past year, I got my heart broken by the man I thought was the love of my life. And, well, since then, I haven’t felt ready or able to open my heart to anyone. Not sure if I ever will. Some days, I miss him and that makes me even angrier…because you shouldn’t feel that way about someone who dumped you. I don’t want to go off on a tangent here. I’m sure you’re very busy…very busy getting busy. I’m sorry. I know. I’m not very good at this. Anyway, the reason I’m writing you right now is because I’m starting to really miss sex. I’m wondering if one night with someone who really knows what they’re doing and who won’t judge me or expect anything more from me might be what I need right now. I don’t feel comfortable just showing up to a hotel room without knowing a little bit about who you are. And I’d also want confirmation that you don’t have a disease. Not sure how that will work. Anyway, I’d love to chat. If we can come to some sort of an agreement, then I would take the next step to meet you for a half-day session.
Best,
Amber W.
CHAPTER FIVE
* * *
CHANNING
The Chicago trip was way more stressful than I thought it would be. I needed to check in on my mother and handle some other business, but the entire time, I couldn’t wait to get back to Amber’s place in Boston, back to Kitty and the calm.
I still couldn’t believe Amber had insisted on keeping the cat around. But the sneezing had stopped, so that was good. I didn’t think I could really keep Kitty if she was continuing to make Amber sick.
The sound of running water could be heard when I let myself in. Amber was taking a shower as she normally did in the evenings. I hadn’t told her exactly when I’d be returning, so I hoped I didn’t scare her when she came out of the bathroom.
Kitty started meowing right away as she purred along my legs.
Lifting her up, I kissed her softly on the head. “How’s my girl? You take good care of Amber?”
A throw blanket was strewn messily atop the couch, and Amber’s laptop was open on the coffee table. I was looking forward to catching up with my roomie, hearing about what she’d been up to this weekend. Even though we both worked a lot, it was always nice to chat with her at night before retreating to my room.
We would sometimes watch TV together or just talk about our days. Before this, it had been years since I’d had a roommate—not since college. I’d forgotten that living with someone could actually be enjoyable. Not to mention, Amber’s condo was a pretty damn sweet place to live. It was spacious with high ceilings and white crown moldings, details that only an older, historic property would have. It was the nicest place I’d ever lived and nothing like I’d expected.
I couldn’t wait to take a shower myself tonight. Since I had to wait for the bathroom, I decided to relax for a bit and surf the net. Plopping my ass down on the couch, I let out a deep sigh. Breathing in, I could smell the pumpkin-scented Yankee Candle that Amber had burning on the mantle. Damn, it was good to be back here.
Since Amber had left her laptop open, I figured I would use it instead of grabbing mine. Readying to log into my Facebook account, I noticed a website that was minimized. I probably shouldn’t have clicked on it to see what it was, but we won’t remind Kitty that curiosity killed the cat.
The website that met my eyes was definitely not something I was prepared to see. She’d left a chat window open. It was a message to someone.
With my heart pounding, I read it at least three times.
What. The. Fuck.
***
My mind was racing. In what world does Amber need to go to a male escort? Does she have any clue how dangerous that could be? She didn’t. Amber had always been a little too naïve and trusting.
Frozen, I couldn’t get past the shock of this enough to figure out how to deal with it.
Was I supposed to just forget I saw this? Pretend like nothing happened when she came out of the bathroom?
The sound of the shower turning off started an internal timer in my head. There wasn’t much time to think about how to react. There was no way I could allow her to do something so reckless as to sleep with some guy who’d probably been with thousands of women. Coming from me, I know that thought was like the pot calling the kettle black, but I couldn’t guarantee that this person took the necessary precautions to avoid disease, not to mention her safety in a situation like this. She couldn’t trust what he said no matter what b
ullshit he was going to feed her.
Needing to buy myself more time, I made an impulsive decision. Deep down, I knew it was out of line, but that didn’t matter at the moment. Fuck that. All that mattered was looking out for her.
I hit the contact button. It required you to enter your email address to start a new message. Referring to my phone, I looked up Amber’s email, hoping it was the same one she’d just used. I entered it, pretending to be her and typed:
Sorry. I had too much to drink tonight. Disregard that last email, please. I’m no longer interested.
I saw that you could delete sent messages from within the chat box.
Good. This is good. I can work with this.
I deleted my message from the “Sent” tab so that she wouldn’t see it. I really hoped that tactic worked, preventing this guy from responding to her initial message. Then again, if she didn’t hear back, she might contact him again or contact another “gentleman.”
Shit. Think.
I had an idea of how to handle that but knew that I needed to get out of here to implement it. There was no way I could face her right now anyway. Making sure I left her computer open in the same spot in which I’d found it, I got up.
Taking my travel bag with me, I exited the condo and headed to the café down the street. She would never know I’d even come home in the first place.
Once at the café and seated at a table with my laptop, I decided to create a new email address under the guise of Gentleman Nine. Without overthinking it, I sent her a message.
Dear Amber,
Thank you for reaching out to me. I felt that your message warranted emailing you from this address so that you don’t have to log into the site to contact me moving forward. It’s easier to correspond back and forth this way. I can completely understand your wanting to get to know me first, and I think that’s wise. I’m here for you if you want to talk or anything else. Just let me know what questions you have.
—Gentleman Nine
What the fuck had I gotten myself into? I should have just had him tell her he couldn’t help her out, that he was too busy, but then what if she moved on, seeking the services of someone else? I couldn’t monitor the situation unless I controlled every step. It needed to be handled like this. Also, to be honest, a part of me really wanted to know what she was thinking. Jesus. I was going to hell.
Not ready to go home and face her, I ordered a hot tea and decided to sit for a while before venturing back home.
A notification chimed, signaling that I’d received a new email. It was a response from Amber. I probably shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d responded to my message so quickly.
Hi Gentleman Nine,
Thank you for answering so fast and for providing me with this email address. You’re right. It’s much easier to communicate with you outside of the portal.
I’m sorry if I sounded like a rambling mess in my first message. As you can see, I am new at this. My biggest concern is to ensure that you don’t have any kind of sexually transmitted disease. How do you protect yourself if you’re with so many women? Do you have anything current from a doctor that you can show me verifying that you’re clean? (I know you probably can’t divulge personal information.) Beyond those issues, I guess I just want to know who you are. How old are you? Do you really look like Matt Bomer? LOL. How did you end up doing this? And what would a night (or half-day) with you be like? Sorry for all the questions.
—Amber
Shit. Deeper down the rabbit hole.
Bouncing my legs frantically, I raked my fingers through my hair while I pondered my response. Determined to lie as little as possible, I tried my best to address her questions in a way that the answers could technically be applied to the real me. That made me feel a little less guilty. I began to type.
Hi Amber,
Don’t worry about asking too many questions. There is no such thing. I can provide you with whatever verification you need that I’m clean. I can assure you that I’m STD-free, but as a precaution, I always use condoms with no exceptions. Your safety is my number one priority.
How did I end up doing this? Well, how much time do you have? LOL. That’s a long story I should probably tell you in person, but the bottom line is, I fell into this situation, and it’s hard to leave now.
In answer to your age question, I’m twenty-seven. I don’t exactly look like Matt Bomer, but you might like me even better.
A night with me consists of whatever you’re comfortable with and whatever you desire. We could talk for a while or not talk at all. Basically, your wish would be my command. I can guarantee that for at least the time we are together, you won’t be thinking about that fool who left you.
What brought you to me tonight of all nights?
—G9
That was really what I wanted to know.
This was so unlike Amber or at least the Amber I thought I knew. What prompted her to do this tonight? Something must have happened while I was away.
I took a long sip of my tea, nearly burning my mouth and waited. I knew if she hadn’t gone to bed, she wouldn’t take long to respond. I’d give it twenty minutes before giving up and going home.
Five minutes later, a new message popped up in my fake inbox.
G9,
Is that what your friends call you? I like that. Thanks for the answers.
That’s an interesting question—why tonight of all nights? Well, I saw my ex tagged on Facebook with another woman, and that put me over the edge. But it’s more than that. Lately, I’ve developed a strong attraction to a good friend of mine, and that’s sort of screwing with me a bit. He’s actually temporarily living in my condo, but he’s someone I’ve known for years. I’ve always thought he was extremely handsome, but it’s complicated. He and I would not be a good match romantically. He’s not the monogamous type, or at least, he never used to be. We’re better off as friends. He was also the best friend of my ex years back, so there’s that. Having him around, though, has made me more sensitized to my sexual desires. Little things like the waft of his scent, the way he touches the small of my back when he passes by me in the kitchen…it’s like my body is on this constant state of alert. So, I was thinking if I could just—for lack of a better word—get laid, maybe I could get this feeling out of my system.
—Amber
My jaw was open as I just sat there staring at the screen.
Holy fucking shit.
I read it again.
And again.
And again.
I honestly didn’t think that Amber felt that way about me. She would always make jokes about me being good-looking, but her attraction to Rory proved that her taste wasn’t exactly conventional. Now, I really felt like shit for invading her privacy, because there was no way she would’ve been okay with confessing that to me. I never imagined any of this had to do with me. I’d assumed it was solely about Rory.
She wanted to use another man to fuck me out of her system?
That revelation left me shocked and confused—not to mention hard as fuck thinking about the fact that Amber wanted me.
Knowing what I now knew, the right thing to do would have been to just abandon the entire exchange at this point. But then how would that have left her feeling if he never wrote back? I’d completely made a mess of this situation, although I still wouldn’t have changed a thing if it meant preventing her from giving her body to some male whore who merely wanted her money.
This predicament kept getting more difficult for me to navigate. The café was about to close. Needing to get home and not wanting her to think she’d lost me, I sent her one final message.
Amber,
I can definitely relate to wanting someone you can’t have. I think you should think about what you want to do a bit more. I’m here if you need to talk, but I have to log off for the night.
Have a good evening.
—G9
I closed my laptop and got up to exit the café.
My breathing
was ragged as I sucked in the cold night air. Making my way down the cobblestone street, I pondered whether I should avoid Amber tonight altogether. My fear was that she would be able to tell that something was up just by looking at me.
Something was definitely up, and I couldn’t have her noticing that, either.
Pretending to be arriving home for the first time, I opened the door and greeted Kitty as if we hadn’t already reunited tonight. True to form, her meowing was just as enthusiastic as ever. It didn’t matter whether we hadn’t seen each other for hours or minutes, she was always purring and excitedly meowing her ass off.
Amber was sitting on the couch. She abruptly closed her computer and straightened up as if I’d caught her with her pants down.
“Channing! I wasn’t sure when you’d be getting back.”
Dropping my bag on the floor, I said, “Yeah. Late flight. I’m exhausted.”
Silence filled the air as we stood facing each other. I sensed that she was still thinking about Gentleman Nine and probably feeling a little ashamed. Maybe my presence had snapped her back to reality a little. At least, I hoped so.
I’d known Amber since I was a kid…but somehow this moment felt like I was meeting her for the first time—seeing a new side of her, one that involved her wanting me and one that involved the understanding that she was no longer the innocent girl I once knew. She had needs—very adult needs. I didn’t blame her for that. Hell…the fact that she was exploring her sexuality was hot as fuck. I just wanted to make sure she was safe; that was all.
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