Around the World in 80 Men

by Brandi Ratliff

  Around the World in 80 Men

  Around the World in 80 Men

  Chapter One

  “If I do this...,” Morgan's whisper danced slowly across her glossed lips, “my life will never be the same.”

  She gently took her bottom lip between her teeth, and nervously rolled the slippery distraction back and forth while she debated the biggest decision of her life. At least, thus far.

  Morgan Holland had been offered a chance to see the world, something that she had only dared to dream of until she met Julianne. It was a chance meeting actually, but one that she would never forget, no matter what she decided to do. Morgan had spent the first part of the previous evening waiting for her date; a date that didn't bother to show up. As she sipped her third glass of Chardonnay, waiting for Jack Dalon, she noticed a very well dressed woman at the bar. A woman, who had been staring directly at her.

  Morgan readjusted herself in the soft high back chair, hoping to send a subtle message for the older woman to stare at someone else. But the move didn't work, because the woman boldly stood, and walked directly to Morgan's table. Before the young woman could speak, mystery lady introduced herself.

  “Good evening. My name is Julianne Marks, and I'd like to make a proposition.” The woman held her hand out with confidence typically displayed by men, and Morgan's hand was drawn to Julianne like a moth to a flame.

  “Uh, I'm Morgan.” The confused girl withdrew her hand quickly, “can I help you?” Morgan didn't want to hear a stranger's proposition, but it was obvious that Julianne wasn't going to leave until she said whatever it was that brought her to Morgan's table.

  “May I sit?” Julianne pulled out the chair across from Morgan, and seated herself.

  Sure bitch, help yourself.

  Morgan continued to look at Julianne, forcing the intruder to explain, then leave.

  Julianne's smile was genuine, and her beauty was clearly still intact. She appeared to Morgan to be in her late forties or early fifties, but maintained a stunning youthful look. Her black hair was thick, and seemed quite long, even though it was pulled up to the back of her head leaving intentional curly 'show off' pieces falling out in organized chaos all over. Her eyes were like melted chocolate, and her full lips that held a constant smile, were the perfect backdrop to her amazingly straight and bright teeth.

  “I won't keep you, I know that waiting for a date alone somehow feels less hurtful than having to do it with someone watching you.” Julianne motioned for the waiter to bring her drink to the table.

  Morgan rolled her eyes, knowing that bold and beautiful had just set up camp at her table.

  Won't keep me? God, are you going to eat my bread too?

  After getting her drink, and thanking the waiter, she continued, “Morgan, I'm a businesswoman, a recruiter, if you will.” Julianne brought her glass to her lips, and sipped slowly. She enjoyed whatever was in the glass, because the slight moan that came from her mouth, as her tongue swept over her lips, proved it.

  “Ah, life can be so sweet, Morgan. With your youth and beauty, you could have the sweetest life imaginable.”

  Julianne finally sat back, and the next move belonged to Morgan.

  “Okay..it seems as if you have mistaken me for someone else. I don't know if you're here to meet someone and you believe I'm that person, but I'm not. Now please, leave me alone, my date will be here soon.” Morgan looked away, trying once again to use any and all more polite tactics to make her leave.

  Julianne leaned in, and lowered her voice, her smile never wavering, “Morgan, I'm here to recruit. And I want you.” She leaned back in her chair, and picked up her glass again, “there's no mistake, I know the goods when I see it, and you dear heart, are certainly good.”

  Julianne had lost two of her best employees recently, and had been on the lookout for at least one replacement. Not any girl would do, and not any girl would be willing, but Morgan's beauty drew Julianne right to her. Also, the lack of ring, along with the, I'm-being-stood-up look on her face, showed that she was absolutely free of all ties to men at the moment.

  Morgan was no longer confused, the woman's meaning came through loud and clear, “Oh! Oh my God! You're like a pimp or something!” Several people turned in their direction, causing Julianne to laugh.

  “Well, it might be best if we didn't shout it to the restaurant, but yes, something like that.”

  Morgan was disgusted, and she knew that the older woman had no intentions of leaving her table. Just as well, it was also pretty clear that Jack had stood her up also.

  Before Morgan could gather her bag, Julianne reached for her arm, “Morgan, please, hear me out. Intelligence tells us that listening, even if we don't agree, is the best form of understanding anything in life.”

  Morgan nearly dropped her bag that had only made it as far as her lap. Those were the words that her mother would use on occasion. Not exactly, but the meaning was the same. It made her relax for the moment, but she still held her bag in her lap, ready to leave at a moment's notice.

  “Thank you. Now, let me ask you something. The man that you're waiting for, and clearly isn't going to show, what were you planning to do with him tonight?” At Morgan's diversion to eye contact, Julianne got her answer. “Exactly. You were willing to give yourself to a man that sees you as nothing short of disposable. Is that the life that you want? A trail of men to use you, and your heart being broken over and over?”

  Morgan knew that her words were a bit dramatic, but the truth in them was undeniable.

  It was true, Morgan had waited for a date with Jack for nearly a month, and she more than likely would have been willing to sleep with him to keep his attention. Stupid move, but she had done it before. Julianne knew more than Morgan had given her credit for.

  “I say, be honest about it. Tell a man what you'll do with him, sex or not, and he can pay you for your company. It's the way things have been done since the beginning of time. Oh, some women call it marriage, some call it dating, well I call it business.”

  When Morgan spoke, her voice was low. Julianne leaned in to hear her. “I actually thought about it, a few years ago. I wanted to go to college and I met a woman that, you know, did that. I thought it would be good money, and I could pay for school. But then I saw the guys that she did it with, and I couldn't do it. Not for money, not for anything.” Morgan looked down, trying to forget what she had seen.

  Julianne's laughter brought Morgan's attention from the table napkin that she had been staring at.

  “Oh child, the men that you would date are not the guys in the back alley looking for a quick blowjob. We're talking about the cream of the crop here! Men that could have any woman they want, but choose to pay for the best. They don't want marriage, or commitments, they just want a nice time with a beautiful woman.”

  “Well,” Morgan started, her mind began racing with a million questions, “look at tonight, I couldn't even get this guy to show up.” She gestured toward the seat Julianne was now occupying and let out a sigh of disappointment. “How do you expect me to find the 'cream of the crop'?” she asked, making invisible quotations in the air with her index and middle fingers.

  The smile never faded from Julianne's face. She clasped her ring laden fingers together in front of her, and leaned in closer to Morgan. With not much more than a whisper, she spoke, “that's where I come in, my dear.”

  Morgan stared at the rings. Diamonds? She was sure they were real. And the rubies, they had to be real, too. The gems reflected from the glasses and flickered flashes of white and red across the table with every move of Julianne's long, perfectly manicured, fingers. One of the glimmers darted away as the older woman reached for her wine and Morgan was broken from her
trance. She slowly nodded her head in acknowledgment and faked a small, curved smile.

  Julianne continued, explaining to Morgan how it were to work if she agreed. With over twenty years of experience, she knew how to run the business. She told the young girl that with over three-hundred proven, trustworthy, clients, from all corners of the globe, Morgan's options, and income potential were nearly limitless.

  Morgan would sprinkle a question into the conversation every so often, but otherwise, she just gave a solemn nod between Julianne's long-winded sentences. There was one thing that stood out to Morgan, one thing she never had much of throughout her life, and that idea was quite appealing.

  Her eyes made their way back to the diamond rings, the Louis Vuitton handbag sitting on the table, Prada sunglasses nestled a top her expensive haircut and earlier, when the woman had been sitting at the bar, Morgan had recognized her Versace heels, red as the lipstick she wore. She only knew the heels because she had seen them in a magazine less than a week prior. Morgan sighed again.

  Money. That's what kept her mind tangled around even the possibility of considering such a notion.

  “I'll think about it,” Morgan finally spoke. She couldn't give a final choice, not then, not there. To avoid an awkward silence, she grabbed her wine and deliberately drank the last half as slowly as possibly. She propped her elbows on the table and rested the glass between her palms, keeping the lip of the glass between her own lips, taking microscopic sips from within.

  Morgan thought the look of it might have been more awkward than the conversation she was avoiding, but she didn't feel like speaking about it any longer.

  Still playing avoid-eye-contact, she caught the waiter out of the corner of her eye and lifted her free hand into the air, trying to capture his attention to get the check. Her move was broken when Julianne reached across the table and gently pushed Morgan's arm back down on the table.

  “I've already taken care of it, silly girl,” Julianne kept her hand over Morgan's as she spoke. “I know, I know. This isn't at all what you expected tonight, but please, do think about it. You have the potential, I knew it the second I saw you.” With that, she reached within her purse and pulled out a hot pink business card.

  Of course. Any good pimp wouldn't be caught dead unprepared for a recruiting opportunity. Thoughts of what the card said crossed Morgan's mind as Julianne slid the card across the table and she smiled as she thought of what an infomercial would sound like.

  Sluts-4-U. 9 out of 10 clients prefer our bitches over the competition. Disease and crab free, FDA approved. But wait, there's more, folks! Act now, and you'll also receive exclusive back door play and titty fucking for free!

  When Morgan flipped the card over, she was actually disappointed only to find out it only read Julianne's first and last name and phone number in beautiful gold cursive lettering.

  “You know what to do. Just call the number if you decide this is something for you. I hope you consider the opportunity, Morgan. You won't regret it, I promise.” Morgan watched Julianne apply a new coat of lipstick.

  “Okay,” Morgan wasn't sure what else to say. They said their goodbye's and her eyes followed Julianne out of the restaurant.

  Chapter two

  Morgan paced in the small space between her couch and stove. The kitchen and living room were the only two rooms in her small apartment. The fold out couch was the closest thing to a bedroom that she had since leaving home three years prior.

  She was twenty one years old, and she knew that she had nothing to look forward to outside of waiting tables, and possibly taking out student loans for college. For what? She asked herself that question hundreds of times, and the only answer she ever gave herself was to land a job that she would hate, and spend years of her life staring out a window wishing for more.

  Travel the world, those were the words that Julianne used. Morgan heard those words roll over her mind as she pictured the places that she could go. Cairo? Brazil? The French Riviera?

  The microwave beeped, alerting her that her oatmeal was finished, the smell of strawberries filling her small kitchen. She ran a hand through her long blonde hair and sat down at the table with her breakfast and the local paper. She had never ordered a paper to be delivered, but she was sure apartment 4D didn't mind her reading it as they had moved out three months earlier.

  Out of curiosity, she opened up the classified section, jobs specifically, and began to browse around. She read about the secretary position at a local law office, veterinary assistant, class A CDL driver, dog groomer, volleyball coach and a caretaker at the old folks home before she realized that none of those would ever be enough for her.

  “If I hate it, I could quit.” The words spoken out loud helped her move closer to a decision. “Yeah, I could totally quit, what could it hurt?”

  Morgan took a deep breath, and made the first of her big decisions. “I'll practice first. See if I like it, or if I can even do it.”

  She didn't plan on charging anyone, but she wanted to know if she could offer great sex to a man with the mindset that she would walk away afterward.

  Who would be the best man to use for the experiment? Jack Dalon, the asshole that stood her up the night before. Yes, she would call him and make him believe that she was more than alright with the way he had treated her. She would smooth things over, and tell him that all she wanted anyway was a night with him, in bed. It would be perfect! He'll fall for it, and Morgan would see if she could remove true emotion from the act. Because if she could do that with someone she wanted a relationship with, she could do it with a stranger.

  “Could I?” She chewed her bottom lip again, her mind going back and forth.

  She wanted a life of freedom. The life she had now consisted of grumpy old women informing her that they didn't want tomatoes on their salad, or that she had put too much ice in their soda.

  Morgan imagined herself twenty years down the road, maybe she would have scrounged up enough money by then to buy a house, or finally get around to paying off student loans from the schooling she'd need to land a job she didn't even like. She pushed her empty bowl of oatmeal aside and laid her head in her hands.

  “What am I going to do?” It was a rhetorical question. She already knew what she had to do, just conjuring up the balls to do it was going to be the hard part. Her mind went back to Jack and she remembered her brilliant plan. “Okay, let's do this,” she reassured herself.

  She looked at the time, 10:30, Jack was on his lunch break and it would be a perfect time to call. She'd catch him off guard and he'd have no choice but to agree. Morgan retreated to the bathroom and splashed herself with cold water, hoping to wake herself up a bit more for the conversation she was going to have. She knew she had to be smooth, and seem completely uninterested in anything but having him in her bed.

  After putting her dirty bowl in the sink, and pulling her hair into a suitable, yet messy, bun, she grabbed her cell phone and made her way to her fold out couch, that was still in the fold-out position, and perched herself atop a stack of pillows. She crossed her legs in front of her and clicked the contacts button, scrolling to the J's, she found him.

  His picture smiled up at her as she clicked Jack's name and it made her all the more nervous. She had rehearsed the conversation in her head a dozen times already and was hoping it would go as planned.

  Her thumb would hover over the call button for a few seconds, but she would pull it back in, capturing it between her other fingers. A minute later, it would hover over the green button again. She played hide and go seek with her finger for a few minutes before she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and finally pushed the damn button.

  Ring. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Ring. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Ring.

  Her heart pounded louder in her ears than the ringing of Jack's phone. C'mon, answer it!

  Voicemail. Shit! She only had a few seconds of his voice, telling the missed caller to leave a message, to think of what to say. She considered just hanging
up, but thought of the secretary position and pressed forward, allowing Jack's voice to come to an end.

  “Uh, hi, Jack,” hi Jack? God, I'm so stupid! She paused for a second, reprimanding herself for her horrible intro. “This is Morgan,” of course it is! He has caller-ID! She pressed her palm to her forehead and continued, “about last night, I had something come up, sorry I couldn't be there,” oooh, that's good. Real good. “I want to make it up to you...tonight. I've been a bad girl for standing you up, and I think it's only fair if you can help me make it right. Be here at eight o'clock and I'll give you a night you'll never forget.”

  Morgan hung up the phone, “Oh my God!” She couldn't even remember what she had just said, but she already wished she could take it back.

  “Shit, shit, shit! Alright, I got this...I've had sex, lots of sex, this won't be any different than that.” She nodded to herself, then ran to the tiny bathroom to get a shower. She could always think better in the shower.

  As the hot water beat down on her long blonde hair, she wondered what her new life would be like. Would men just buy her things that she wanted? Would it be like a paycheck? Where would she live? That thought stuck around. Hotels, that's where I'll live. And I'll be waited on and served like all the other rich people that stay there. She smiled as she turned under the shower head, facing the heated waterfall. Her mind floated over every detail in her imaginary room; satin sheets, jet tub, gourmet food delivered to her door, and those little chocolates that they put on the bed each day. Yes, that's the life that she wanted.

  By the time she was finished with her shower, she began to believe that her new life was within reach. She started to wrap her maroon bath towel around her slender body, but stopped in mid-wrap. She dropped the towel, and turned to the full length mirror on the back of her bathroom door.

  Her breasts were first to be acknowledged. Large, but not obnoxious. They were also firm, something that large breasts typically were not. She put her hands under them, and pushed them up to simulate the effects of a very expensive push up bra. Not that she had ever owned one, there was no need. Morgan never wore low cut shirts, and her girls were always safely tucked away in a sensible, and quite cheap, white bra.