“Hmm, maybe, if that was what you needed,” Wesley said thoughtfully. “But we are so much more than that. An escort service merely provides company. Little Black Book Club provides a service for people who would otherwise maybe not have the means or the courage to ask for it.”
A little shiver ran up my spine at the word courage. That could cover a lot of ground.
“That’s interesting,” I said noncommittally as I placed the card in the back of my phone case, where I would probably forget about it.
“Oh, you would be surprised how interesting it can be. Our company is very creative with our services, and we have a very high approval rating with our clientele. I would love for you to check us out sometime. I’m sure there is something you’ve been yearning for, Ms. Beckett, if you think hard enough you could come up with something for us.”
I laughed then, even though he hadn’t said anything funny. “Oh Wesley, I don’t have time to think about anything but work,” I said once my laughter had calmed down. “I am sure I could come up with something interesting too, but I’m so busy that all I can think to do at the end of the day is take my shoes off and have a quiet moment to myself before I have to go to sleep, get up and do it all again. I love my job, but it’s all-encompassing. It’s hard to be the one in charge, you know?”
Wesley’s eyes changed then, no longer merely polite and smiling, like moments before. Now they held a calculated gleam that changed the atmosphere of the elevator a little bit. Another shiver ran up my spine as he spoke again. “I absolutely know where you are coming from. It’s so hard when you have to be in control of everything, sometimes it would just be nice to let go, and have someone else do all the work – wouldn’t it?”
“Now there’s a fantasy,” I joked and smiled. This time he smiled back. A slightly friendlier smile than the polite one I had gotten earlier, like we had just shared a secret and were a little more connected. Something just between the two of us. The elevator lurched then and began its slow downward descent. “Blake saves the day,” I whispered under my breath, and I was pretty sure I heard Wesley chuckle warmly to himself. As the elevator dinged a few moments later, signaling our arrival on the first floor, he turned to me again. “It was lovely to meet you, Ms. Beckett, I do hope to run into you again.”
Wouldn’t that be nice? I thought to myself. But unless he needed services from this hotel again, it probably wasn’t likely. It was all work, all the time, for me. He turned left out of the elevator and towards the front door of the lobby. I went straight and made a beeline for the coffee shop at the other end of the first floor.
Give me the caffeine so I can get through another busy day.
It’s hard to be the one in charge.
Two
The Jensen reception was a disaster, and it had nothing to do with the blush tablecloths or the impeccable decorating done by our staff. Everything the hotel was responsible for went off without a hitch, from the champagne fountain to the tiny glass pebbles etched with the couple’s wedding date that were scattered across the tables as decorations and wedding favors. I always prefer a wedding favor that has some sort of function, but whatever, it wasn’t my show. No, the real party buster was when the groom’s pregnant girlfriend showed up to cause a scene and a huge fight broke out between the groom and the father of the bride.
There was punching, lots of broken hotel property, and forced evacuation of the ballroom. Also, I’d had to call the police because the bride tried to choke the girlfriend, and even if it was one of the trashiest Springer moments this hotel had ever been privy to, you can’t just go around putting your hands on a pregnant woman. My heart broke for the bride, but I was also pissed as hell. Our staff had worked their asses off for that reception, I had worked my ass off for that reception, and they treated our hotel like a garbage pit. So much time effort and money had been wasted on a marriage that was built on a lie, and quite possibly one that was ending after only one day.
Relationships were difficult, and it was occasions like this one that led me to believe I was probably better off alone.
Regardless, that party was the last straw and I needed a break. There was no way I could take time off on a weekend, not when there were so many events scheduled. I had a very capable staff, but just like Lisa had proved with the linen incident, sometimes things just had to be handled by the boss. And no matter how stressed out and crazy it made me, I was the boss. So on Sunday, I made the executive decision that I would be taking a mini staycation.
Three whole days off, effective Monday.
Ok, it was a tiny thing, but my staff was aghast. I never took time off. Even if I was sick, I had my cell phone next to my bed and my laptop on my lap. I didn’t need to stand up and walk around to make phone calls and emails. Shit still needed to get done. But this time, when I told everyone I was going to be out of the office, I specified that I was going to be unavailable. Completely. No phone calls, no emails, nothing. Everything that needed to be done during the week was all standard prep work, nothing they couldn’t handle. I would be back on Thursday to help take care of anything that needed to be finished up before the weekend. I was going to have some me time.
I was sitting in my office chair with my head hanging back against the headrest, stretching out my lower back when I heard a knock on the doorframe of my office. The door was open like it always was, but the only person who ever even pretending like they were asking permission to enter my sanctuary was Blake. He always asked first, never just came barreling in with questions or wants. Not that I would mind if he did – but that wasn’t Blake.
“Lizzie, you look like a mess,” Blake exclaimed, concern showing on his face.
“Thanks for that,” I raised one eyebrow to express my sarcasm. Blake looked fresh as ever, sturdy jeans and work boots with his black polo shirt that had the hotel logo on the front. It wasn’t right that he should look so sexy dressed down, but I could barely keep my shit together in a professional blouse and skirt set.
“Why do you always look so put together?” I asked, really wanting to know the answer.
Blake’s eyebrows practically jumped from his forehead he was so surprised. “I’m not sure what you mean, but if you are telling me you find me wildly attractive then I’ll take the compliment.” His blue eyes twinkled as he grinned, his dark hair wavy as unruly as always. I could see why all of the women on staff, and even some of the men, lost their heads around him. He was charming as hell, and I don’t even think he was trying. I think he just woke up that way.
“I mean why do you always look like you got a solid eight hours of sleep, took a multivitamin and had a healthy breakfast?” I asked, smiling at his words in spite of myself. “It’s not fair Blake, you glow. I want to glow too.” Okay, maybe I was pouting a little bit, but I’d pulled a muscle in my neck, my shoulders and my feet ached, and I hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday afternoon which was a pack of cookies from the coffee shop in the lobby. I’d been too tired when I got home the night before to do anything but faceplant in the bed and this morning had just been so busy with me trying to wrap everything up and order replacement banquet tables and chairs.
I would be billing the Jensen’s for that, of course.
“I think you look lovely just the way you are, but you do look extra tired. Are you eating right? What did you eat today?”
“Don’t ask, Blake, you won’t like the answer.” I laughed then, because he still had a look of concern on his face. Did I really look that much of a mess? “Seriously though Blake, what’s your secret?”
“Self-care.” He said as he stepped into the room and plopped down on a chair in front of me and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs. “I do take a multivitamin. I also eat well, and I get plenty of exercise. A couple of days a week in the gym will give you an energy boost I promise.”
“Um, Blake, did you just tell me I need to work out?” Jesus, what an ego blow.
“No, I just told you what I do to maintain my healthy glow
,” and then he winked. “You are perfect as you are, but you definitely need to get more sleep.
“Mhm, what’s with the stubble then?” I asked, motioning to his chin, which was sporting a dark shadow. In all honestly it was sexy as hell, but definitely not something I remember him wearing before. He was always clean shaven.
“Oh, this?” He asked as he rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. I’m just trying something new. You like it? I heard the ladies go wild for a little five o clock shadow.”
“I bet they do,” I murmured low, and I saw a shadow cross his face and felt bad, like maybe I had hurt his feelings. That wasn’t right though, Blake was loved by everyone. There were plenty of women to stroke his ego on a daily—no hourly—basis.
I stretched again, this time really feeling that pull in the side of my neck, and I rubbed at the sore spot, wincing a bit at the tenderness there.
“What’s wrong, did you pull something?”
“Yeah, it got wild at the Jensen party last night. I had to bring out my A game.” I chuckled, but Blake’s normally smiling face was serious.
“Want me to see if I can rub it out?” He said, his blue eyes warm with concern.
Rub it out? Did he just say rub it out?
My mind went to a very inappropriate place with that question, and even though that wasn’t what he meant by those words, my mind definitely pictured him doing something different. Most likely with fewer clothes on. I wondered, not for the first time, just what Blake was hiding under his work jeans and polo. Inappropriate indeed – I was so depraved.
“No offense Blake, but if you touch me right now I won’t be able to function for the rest of the day.”
He didn’t say anything, just looked at me with that piercing stare, eyes boring into me like he was trying to figure out what I just said. And then it occurred to me.
Double entendre.
“Oh God Blake, I wasn’t being inappropriate I promise. Holy shit I’m sorry,” I said, and I felt my face heating up with embarrassment. “I just meant I can’t relax right now, and if you were to give me a shoulder massage I would probably fall asleep in my chair. I still have things to do, I can’t relax yet.”
“I don’t think you’ve ever relaxed a day in your whole life,” Blake said, and his sunny smile was back on his face, his voice whiskey warm and friendly. Thank goodness, I thought to myself. That was almost sexual harassment. The last thing I needed was for Blake to think I was a pervert. I really looked forward to seeing him every day, I didn’t want to make our relationship strained because I made it weird.
“Well I’m about to,” I said and leaned towards him like I was letting him in on a secret. “Tomorrow starts my mini staycation. I’m taking three whole days off. In a row.” I emphasized, and his eyes widened in shock.
“You rebellious young thing, you. Nice, Lizzie, I’m so proud.” Blake dashed away imaginary tears of pride, like a parent at their child’s high school graduation. “What are you going to do?”
“I have no idea, Blake. It was a snap decision. But I need some me time, you are right, I haven’t been taking care of myself.” My eyes snapped wide as I had an idea. “I know, maybe I’ll get a massage, a full body one. And a pedicure, and eat three entire well-balanced meals each day. Maybe I’ll drink too much wine and hang out by the pool at my apartment complex and hit on all the much younger men. Maybe I’ll become a cougar.”
Blake laughed loudly then, and I let the sound wash over me in the confines of my small office. Blake’s laughter, it was such a pleasant sound. He just had a knack for making people feel relaxed, it was easy being around him. I didn’t have to try so hard – I didn’t need to be the boss.
“I would like to see you do that, Miss Cougar. But I’ll be happy if you get some rest and relaxation.” Blake stretched his large body out in the chair before standing and paused before he walked all the way out the door, presumably to go back to work. “It sure is going to be lonely around here without you. Three whole days?” And then he was gone.
Three days wasn’t very long, but I bet I could cram it full of awesome things to do.
Three
I was quite possibly the most boring person on the planet. I woke up Monday morning and made coffee like I always did. I spent the rest of the morning cleaning the apartment and organizing the clutter that had accumulated since the last time I had the time to clean. I couldn’t start my relaxing in a messy environment, could I?
I took a shower, shaved…everything that needed to be shaved, I exfoliated and then moisturized. I felt squeaky clean, but that was about it. So much for pampering. I thought about giving myself a pedicure, but it seemed like a lot of effort, especially since I needed to go grocery shopping. I did buy several bottles of wine while I was out, but by the time I got home with the groceries, I was too tired to make dinner, much less drink any wine. So I sat in my clean apartment, with the fully stocked kitchen and lamented how lame I had become while I microwaved the spring rolls I had picked up as an impulse buy.
I don’t know at what point I became so uninteresting – probably around the time I decided that a career in event planning was my gig and I took a job as an assistant at the hotel, right out of college. There was zero work to life balance in my world, but I managed to work my way to the top, and our event services at the hotel were high ranking and very well received. I made my hotel a lot of money, and they paid me quite well in return. All the money in the world doesn’t matter if you don’t have the time to spend it. Or you have no one to spend any time with if you had it. It was true – I was lonely. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had gone out with my girlfriends. Most of them worked standard nine to five jobs. The weekends were their downtime, and my busiest.
And I was young yet. Barely thirty-six years old, I wasn’t out of the race. My breasts were still firm and high, I took care of my skin and had a great complexion. I kept my long dark hair shiny and manageable, and I did look younger than I was, and I knew it. People told me that all the time. A lot of good it did be being in my thirties, looking late twenties, but coming home and passing out in front of the television like someone in their seventies. Forget that, there were people in their seventies who had more active social lives that I did. I would be lucky to be in my seventies.
Staycation day one and I had done nothing but chores. Hoo-ray. And I was still tired. I thought back to my conversation with Wesley in the elevator. About how my fantasy would be to have nothing to do, to not be in charge and have someone else take care of everything for a change. It sounded too good to be true, but I had to admit I was just a little bit curious as to what the Little Black Book Club actually did if it wasn’t quite an escort service.
I pulled the card out of my phone case and looked at the website on the back, it wouldn’t hurt to just look them up. It wasn’t like I was signing up for anything. Just a little peek to see what the company that foxy older man worked for. It certainly seemed mysterious.
I clicked the website and was taken to a homepage that looked remarkably like the business card. Simple. Plain. Dark background with small white text in the center of the page. Discretion is our business. Anonymity is our specialty. What is your fantasy? What do you desire?
There was a small box underneath the text that said you must be eighteen or older to gain access to the website, and it made me put my birthdate in to continue. It seemed a little weak for security, I mean anyone could type a fake date in. Maybe they just thought anyone younger wouldn’t even know about the website. I mean, I had never even heard about it until the group booked a conference room for a day at the hotel. And even after I had the name I couldn’t get any information with a web search. It really did seem to be a word of mouth type of thing, they certainly didn’t advertise. Oh well, I simply satisfied my curiosity, it wasn’t like I had to give them any personal information. I wouldn’t give a credit card number or anything like that. I just wanted to see what they were about.
Apparently, that thing about discretion
and anonymity only went one way, because I had to fill out about fifty pages of personal descriptions, likes and dislikes as well as personal preferences in the opposite sex. I have to give a full physical description of myself, as well as a basic medical history complete with questions about how many sexual partners I had in the past. I could have lied. I’m sure people did it all the time, but I was so curious about the damn thing after page after page of questions that I told the truth. I was invested now, I had to make it to the end of the questionnaire and see what this website was all about.
I answered all of the questions. Every damn one and when I finally hit the “submit” button at the bottom of the last page I was directed to another page where glowing white text spelled out:
What is your fantasy? What do you desire?
Were they kidding me? This again? I’d written a thousand answers on that damned questionnaire, and now we were finally getting the meat and potatoes, what Little Black Book Club was all about. So I wrote it all out. If they were going to make me waste almost forty-five minutes filling out page after page of personal information, then I was going to lay it all out there and wait for the big nothing. Or maybe it was going to flash to a back page ad, the kind where you pick “dates” out based on pictures and short descriptions. Whatever, it was all a joke anyway.
I want to be pampered, I wrote into the text field. I want to be completely taken care of from sun up, to sundown. I don’t want to have to lift a finger, make a decision, or take care of a single problem. An entire day where someone else is in charge. Just for one day, I don’t want to be the boss.
I hit enter and waited a few seconds. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it little Black Book Club, I thought to myself. That was my fantasy, and even I knew it was boring as fuck, but damn it, how nice would it be to let someone else take control for the day. I was tired. I didn’t want to do the work anymore. I didn’t expect the service to match me up with anything, so I wasn’t even remotely disappointed when I was directed to another black screen with little white letters that said, your profile has been saved. We will contact you when a suitable match has been made.
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