Why not? She had already come this far.
Cassandra crossed her legs again and steadied herself where she sat.
“Shoot, Ms. Masters.”
Cassandra saw her eyes grow warmer.
“Don’t be so formal. It’s Mary Lynn. Okay?”
Already everything seemed easier.
“Fire away, Mary Lynn.”
The camera rolled.
“Great,” Mary Lynn said. “Cassandra?”
She felt ready for any question.
“Yes?”
“What do you look for in a man?”
What was the right answer? Wasn’t this all about pleasing the customer? What did it matter what she thought?
“I… I didn’t think…”
Mary Lynn looked away from the lens.
“Didn’t think what?”
“That it mattered what I wanted.”
Mary Lynn laughed.
“We traffic in all that’s mutually enjoyable. Everyone wins, Cassandra.”
She relaxed against the statement. It would be more than money. She’d have her own good time when all was said and done.
Cassandra smoothed her face with her hands and prepared her answer.
“What do I look for?”
But she’d ask the question one more time.
Mary Lynn returned to the lens. Cassandra couldn’t see her eyes as she smiled and nodded.
“Go on, Cassandra.”
What did she look for? What did she want? On a superficial level, she wanted beautiful. Who didn’t? She wanted firm and strong and eager against her hands.
But she wanted more.
She wanted smart. She wanted kind. She wanted strong when she was threatened. She wanted comforting when she was scared. She wanted smart and funny. And maybe a little crazy now and then. She wanted someone who would hold her close. And never let her go. She wanted to stay with whoever he was forever.
“I…”
“Come on, Cassandra. Just like you did in your application.”
So the single sentence had done the trick. And now she had to keep it going. Somewhere, someone, was in the market for all that she was. And he didn’t need a paragraph. Cassandra took a deep breath and stared into the camera. She could already feel her face, glowing, before unknown eyes. A single pair might hold the key to all that she wished for.
Make it brief.
“I… I want someone who’ll keep me… safe.”
She bowed her head as Mary Lynn held her focus. Then she snapped the camera off, made an unseen note on the printout, and offered Cassandra a card with a smile.
“Very good.”
Cassandra tentatively took the stiff piece of paper. She saw her zip code and an array of Lab Corp collection sites. One was barely a stone’s throw from her front door.
Convenient.
“I’m… I’m supposed to… what am I supposed to do with this?”
Mary Lynn’s smile grew wider.
“Take a piss. Need to make sure you’re clean. But somehow I think we don’t even need the test. I’m guessing you’re safe.”
She was. No needles in her veins. No STDs lying in wait. But…
“I drink.”
Mary Lynn looked to the printout.
“Yes. Yes I know. Beer. Some boys like that. It’s okay. It’s permitted. But you might want to expand your tastes. Fine wine is the flavor of the day.”
Cassandra signed the necessary papers and went for the test. She was told that the results would reach Mary Lynn in no more than two days. Or less.
Twelve hours later, she was a Leased Lady. She whirled about her studio and clapped at the prospect of men and money. She emailed Mary Lynn Masters and inquired about what would come next. Cassandra was already waxing and primping at the thought of an instantaneous date. She received a reply and fell to her keyboard.
Welcome, Trixie.
So she really couldn’t shake the username.
We are pleased to inform you that you are now a part of the LeaseALady family! Your profile is now LIVE for our customers. Who knows? Your first date could be TONIGHT!!!
Cassandra moved from her computer with a joyful squeal.
Tonight!
Chapter Five
Oliver Chambers needed a partner. It was the Met’s gala opening night. He had business to conduct. It would look better with a Lady on his arm.
Faye entered his office, ivory walls surrounding maroon furnishings, with a glass of lime tinged water on a tray. She peeked over his shoulder and saw him clicking through a series of familiar photos.
“I liked the redhead,” Faye said.
Oliver looked up at her with a wicked smile.
“You would.”
Faye set the glass down and grabbed his mouse. She clicked back to the redhead. Mallory.
“Yes, sir,” Faye said. “She’s a keeper.”
Oliver looked at the soft face, all blue eyes and freckles. He liked Mallory. He’d had fun with Mallory. But it was been there, done that.
“Then you keep her.”
Oliver took the mouse back and continued clicking through the pics. Faye sat on the edge of his desk and tousled his hair.
“Ollie, you’ve been through the entire catalog.”
He’d used the services too many times to count. It was convenient and quick and entirely affordable when he needed a pretty companion to smile at him and everyone else.
“Faye—”
She slapped his hand away from the keyboard.
“Enough, Ollie. You spend more time on this than you should. If it’s just a dinner date, heck. Even I could fit the bill.”
Oliver leaned back in his chair. Faye. Now there was an idea.
She was lovely with her ebony, Louise Brooks bob and big brown eyes. She’d look every bit the part in something red and low cut. But despite all that they were, all that she was to him, it wasn’t like that.
And Oliver Chambers never mixed business with pleasure.
Faye was a pro. She kept his appointments in order and in line. She reminded him of campaigns needing slogans and artwork. And she brought him back to reality each and every morning.
He needed that. He needed her.
But he could still have a little fun at her expense.
Oliver lifted his fingers to her lips. His eyes danced up Faye’s legs, concealed in the creases of her trousers.
“You could,” he said. “Lovely. Very nice.”
Faye moved her mouth to his. Oliver couldn’t help but be curious for her kiss.
Their lips nearly touched when Faye turned her head away and tenderly slapped his cheek with a laugh.
“In your dreams, cowboy.”
She did kiss the top of his head. Oliver could have taken her right then. But he didn’t want to hold her in place. He liked her leaving and coming back.
He liked her that way.
He returned to the Leased Ladies.
They were stunning and for the taking. He looked to Mallory again. She had proven herself a worthy conversationalist when they hit the Man of the Year dinner that honored a member of the firm where his father had gotten his start. Mallory was worthy because she steered the conversation away from his father and asked him what he wanted.
He wanted more than she could ever really offer.
More often than not, he paid for something extra. The Ladies were only too eager to oblige. Oliver brought them to the hotel room he had on reserve for every conquest. The girls, the Ladies, were out of their gowns before he could search his pockets for a generous tip. It was for services rendered. Services they felt they hadn’t yet rendered, but Oliver still pressed the bills into their hands.
They always seemed satisfied when the nights drew to a close.
Faye was on her feet and dragged a chair to Oliver’s side.
“So?”
He gave her small smirk.
“So what?”
Faye looked at the screen and licked her lips.
“The redh
ead? Looks nice. You make it with her?”
The first chance he got. She’d stripped in the room before Oliver could remove his watch. Her freckles trailed down her entire frame. He had imagined the feel, the taste of them against his lips. When he finally got to sample her wares, she was all sugar vanilla and body glitter. And sweat from the reception hall. He didn’t mind. In fact, he kind of liked the slightly metallic warmth as he tasted the rest of her in other ways.
Oliver nodded at Faye with a mischievous smile. Faye raised her eyebrows.
“And you liked?” Faye asked.
“I like them all,” Oliver said,
“Naturally. Stud.”
Each Lady served her purpose. Looked good, tasted good, and left before it got too heavy. Not that he was ever rude about it. He’d offer them a drink. Sometimes the romantics in the bunch would finagle a night in his arms and dream of breakfast in bed. And Oliver obliged. At least before the sun was up. But he was also sure to rise first and start dressing as he spoke of important meetings that he had to attend. It was code for this was nice, and now it’s done. With the size of the tips he doled out, they were wise not to protest. But he was sure that they still hoped for another chance on his arm.
Keep hoping, ladies.
Oliver clicked past Mallory to another girl.
“Really, Ollie? What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing. I just don’t do repeats.”
“Well, la-di-da.!”
Faye could scoff all she wanted. Encores were not part of his repertoire. Once he’d had a shot at the girl, he was done. There was no point in pretending that any of these Ladies could represent something long term. Not in the way he needed most. Long term for him meant something beyond parties and fundraisers. Something much different.
And he was fairly certain that no one would ever want to share it with him.
He continued scanning the gallery. He didn’t have a type. Lean and fit was preferable, but he’d take curves if the hair was right. The eyes were of no consequence. Brown or blue or hazel. It was as if he would never find—
Or green.
Oliver stopped at the eyes of Trixie Carol and blinked. It was like a glimpse at a yesterday he had tucked away and vowed to never revisit. Not because he didn’t want to see the eyes again. But it was too painful to think of them closed, never to reopen. Now a shiver ran up his spine at the image of the girl on the screen.
He clicked it into larger view.
On closer inspection, she was not a doppelganger for his ghost. She had a slim nose, high cheek bones, and straight eyebrows. The face in his memory was softer, rounder in every way possible. But the eyes had it. There was a similarity so close to identical.
Oliver wanted to learn more about her.
“That one’s okay,” Faye said as she scanned the profile more carefully. “Sort of plain. But pretty. I guess.”
Oliver couldn’t even hear Faye as she whispered the girl’s particulars under her breath.
Trixie Carol. What was her real name? Where had she come from? Where was she now? Would someone else snatch her up and pretend to show her a good time? Or was she destined to be broken before she even had a chance?
Oliver’s head was spinning, and he grasped the edge of his desk.
“Whoa! Ollie? You okay?”
He reached for his water and took a slow sip. Faye rubbed his shoulder and repeated her question.
“Of course,” he said. “Absolutely.”
He clicked to view her video confessional. The question was always the same. What were they looking for in a man? Some were only in the market for fun. Some like to hone their more nurturing instincts. Some liked to give because it felt fantastic.
What would Trixie Carol have to say?
I… I want someone who’ll keep me… safe.
Now it was about more than the eyes. Oliver’s heart crept up his throat. She wanted to be safe. Oliver had a very definite opinion on the subject. He’d tried it once before. His reasons were sound, but the girl in question didn’t understand. If nothing else, Oliver learned from his mistakes. If he was careful as he stepped into the waters, if he felt her out, if he paid for it…
He began the process of securing Trixie Carol for a night at the opera.
Chapter Six
It had been nearly a week since Cassandra had signed up. And no one was biting. Cassandra scanned other ladies’ profiles, some of whom had just signed up. And their feedback showed that their dance cards were already full.
What had she done wrong now? Was it her raw profile pic? Her filmed segment that seemed more and more pathetic as she watched it again and again? Or was there just a type of the month that explained her empty inbox?
She could find none.
The ladies getting leased were barely eighteen or just turning forty. They were blondes. They were brunettes. They were every race. They possessed varied sets of interests. Why wasn’t Cassandra mixing with the bunch? She knew she wasn’t the prettiest one on display; her profile didn’t claim that she was the best cook. But she felt she stood out in other ways.
And it stung that no one was taking notice.
There was a knock on her door. Cassandra, still in her PJs and barefoot, didn’t move from her couch. She still expected eviction at any moment and vowed to stay silent.
“Cass?”
Always Iris. Just Iris. Cassandra shuffled to the door and swung it open. Iris’s smile fell at the sight of her friend.
“Geez, Cass. You are one hot mess!”
Cassandra rolled her eyes and started down the tiny hallway to her even tinier bathroom. She flipped the switch and stared in the mirror.
Iris had been kind in her assessment.
She looked tired, kind of beat up. The Trixie Carol photo actually looked good in comparison. And her hair, sticking up and out in every direction, unwashed since the day of her interview, was not helping matters. Cassandra hung her head as she felt Iris enter the bathroom and rub her arms.
“Cass, what’s wrong, babe?”
She turned away from the mirror. Iris lifted Cassandra’s face to hers.
“Cass?”
“Iris, it’s been like a week.”
Iris tossed her head back with a laugh.
“Cass, I said it was a good idea. I didn’t say it was Lourdes.”
Really? She’d implied as much. Easy money. Stimulating dinner companions who’d want to talk art and culture.
And all that came of it was nothing.
She took Iris by the hand and dragged her back to the couch. She was on the computer in a flash and pulled up the site. Once again, Cassandra was clicking through the profiles of every other Lady.
“You see. You see.”
Iris took several seconds on each profile as Cassandra moved to the next girl.
“Everyone else is scoring. Even… even this one.”
Cassandra clicked to particularly large woman with acne scars and frizzy blonde coils for hair.
“Even her.”
Iris turned to Cassandra with a smile.
“Cass, she’s a gourmet chef. Her clients? What they want? No way can you compete.”
Cassandra pouted and reached for a cigarette. So she wasn’t Julia Child. Wasn’t this supposed to be about men on the go who could barely boil water or crack an egg? If they wanted course after course ending with soufflés, they should just make reservations at some five star joint.
“Okay. So I can’t compete with her clients. Maybe I can’t cook up a storm. I can eat.”
“If someone else is buying,” Iris teased.
“Very funny.”
“You know… you know you could start applying yourself.”
“I—”
“Just throw yourself out there. A little begging never hurt anyone.”
Iris would say that. Cassandra met her at a party when the city held promises of tomorrow. Iris was well past the point of desire for the recent grads at the home of a friend of a friend. Iris danced and go
t drunker. And drunker. She paid the price with a beer-stained skirt. Iris was far from old, but she was also leaving young as she crept closer to forty. And she saw nothing wrong in a lot of degradation for a little bit of a good time.
Even in her current state, Cassandra… but who was she kidding? Iris had a job. Cassandra had nothing. So a little begging—
Before she took that step, a ding emerged from the laptop’s speakers.
Incoming mail.
Iris and Cassandra locked eyes, and they viewed the promise of the unopened message together.
“Open it, Cass!”
Cassandra’s fingers quickly did as she was told.
Hi, Trixie Carol.
You’ve been LEASED! Prepare for a car to take you to The Empire Hotel at 5:00pm. You will accompany your client to the opening night gala at the Metropolitan Opera and the subsequent after-party. The client requires a striking companion capable of appreciating the finer things. That’s you, Trixie! Congratulations and enjoy!
LeaseALady.com Support
Cassandra slowly turned her eyes to Iris. She had an intense desire to throw an I told you so in her face. But she was too excited to do anything but jump up pump her fists in the air. Iris was quick to follow and held her friend close. Cassandra savored the moment. She’d done it. On her terms. And she’d soon have the cash to show for it.
“Cass, now it starts!”
Cassandra’s head was spinning. Red carpets, paparazzi, a dashing gentleman of her arm. Just who was he? She was dying to know. She returned to computer and examined the email again. Just under the automated signature was the link to another profile.
“This has to be him right?”
Iris nodded breathlessly as Cassandra clicked the link. She left LeaseALady.com and opened another browser, typing the name in. Cassandra read the name aloud.
“Oliver Chambers.”
“Ooh! Sounds sexy.”
Cassandra scrolled down the page. Oliver Chambers was a CEO of Chambers and Waters, an advertising firm. She had little interest in what he did. She was more curious as to how he looked.
Despite the gallery of images at the website’s disposal, the building, the office space, she could not locate Oliver Chambers. A Google search proved equally futile. She knew nothing but his name. That and the fact that he had selected her. Why? Because she said she enjoyed opera? Or was it something else that she had yet to know but wanted to?
The Bound Bride Page 3