by CA Quigg
“So what exactly are they… bidding on… then?”
I can’t even believe I’m asking this question. The whole concept still seems so surreal.
Sure, I already knew that Rachel has a crazy job working as an escort to rich old men at an exclusive underground dinner club called The Exchange. I know everything about her. But I hadn’t exactly wanted to hear all about the details.
That kind of job suits her a lot better than it would me. We’ve been friends since we were young girls who met in church Sunday school class and she’s always been the adventurous, rebellious one. I’m usually the one observing from the corner, taking notes and writing about it all later.
“Oh come on, Celeste,” she says, looking annoyed now, which is rich, since I’m the one doing her a big favor tonight. “You know that there are a lot of guys in Phoenix looking for female ‘friends’ for different reasons.”
“That’s for sure,” I agree. “There are as many rich lonely men here in Phoenix as there are tumbleweeds.”
Celeste laughs genuinely now.
“You and your… what are they called? Similes?” she asks me.
“Metaphors,” I answer.
“Yeah, those. Well anyway,” she continues. “Sure, some of these guys want sex. But others might be completely impotent and need to keep that fact a secret in their social circle. Some might just want arm candy for whatever reason. Or companionship. Or to keep up with their boss or business partner by bringing someone even more attractive than whomever they’re dating to the company party or dinner event.”
“Okay,” I tell her, still feeling hesitant.
“I do need to warn you about something, but don’t worry,” she says, which immediately causes me to worry. “Some guys will bid up to the amount required to take you to dinner— which is all you have to do— but they like to view it as a challenge, try to get you to go out with them again or sleep with you when they’ve only paid for the dinner escort option.”
“How much is the… sleep with me option?” I ask, my stomach turning into knots.
“A lot more than the dinner option,” she says. “And it just depends on how high the bidding gets.”
“I see,” I tell her, although it’s clear as mud.
“It doesn’t matter,” she says. “Because you don’t have to sleep with them. There are different levels and the one that I do— the one you’re filling my spot for tonight— is just the dinner escort one.”
But what if it’s not?
The question runs through my mind and I don’t know whether to feel terrified or excited.
Chapter 2 – Celeste
I don’t ask the question out loud. I just stare at Rachel, letting it all sink in.
“I’m not whoring you out. It’s just dinner,” she insists. “All that happens is that you have a meal with the guy for Valentine’s Day. Some poor old sap who doesn’t have a date. That’s it.”
“Okay,” I say again.
Rachel’s pretty brown eyes turn wide and pleading, as if she’s worried that I’m going to back out.
I won’t. I’m loyal to my word and would do anything for my best friend in the world— and I guess this proves it. But that doesn’t mean I’m not apprehensive about it.
“You know I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t absolutely have to,” she says, grabbing my hand and squeezing it as if to apologize. “I really really appreciate it.”
“I know,” I tell her, half a smile finally creeping onto my face. “And I’m happy for you that Billy seems to want to take things to the next level.”
“What if he proposes?” she asks, a huge smile crossing her face and causing my own to grow bigger.
I can’t be worried about my own fate when Rachel is this happy. She’s been unlucky in love and now things are finally working out.
For months now she’s been dating Billy but living a secret life working at The Exchange. Once things were obviously getting serious pretty quickly between them, I urged her to tell him because I don’t think secrets are good for relationships.
Not that I’d really know, since the longest one I’ve had lasted all of two months last year before my ex dumped me for some co-eds at the college he moved away to attend. But in theory, I just think honesty is the best policy.
Rachel, however, is convinced that Billy would be upset, even though, as she keeps pointing out to me, only dinner— not sex— is involved at her level of participation at The Exchange. She didn’t want to quit the job because it’s good money and she really needs it.
She’s always reminding me that I “came from money” whereas she did not. And she tells me that it’s impossible for me to truly understand why she has to do some of the things she does.
She’s right about that. My family isn’t as rich as Rachel makes us sound but compared to hers we are. So maybe I really couldn’t understand, although I do try.
I come from a solidly middle class family and my dad worked in computer security for the Federal government while my mom was a well-paid paralegal at a large law firm. Rachel’s dad, on the other hand, was an alcoholic who couldn’t hold down a job— when he was even around— and her mom was a homemaker with little education or skills. Rachel’s mom was able to get a low-paying job as a store clerk when Rachel and I were in middle school and she realized that Rachel’s dad was only going to continue to spiral downhill instead of improve their situation.
She always tells me not to judge her because she needs the money to attend college whereas my parents help out with my education. And I don’t judge her. I just think that maybe for her own good she should let her boyfriend in on what she actually does five nights out of the week, before he finds out on his own. I think it’s only a matter of time before that’s bound to happen because Phoenix is still kind of a small town for a big city.
“If Billy does propose,” I ask her now, “Are you going to tell him how you work at The Exchange, and not just as a waitress?”
“No,” she huffs, shaking her head at me as if that’s ridiculous. “That’s the whole point. That’s why I asked you to go for me tonight. I still need the money and can’t give up the job if Billy’s not as serious about me as I think he is.”
“I know,” I remind her. And I get it. Or else I wouldn’t have agreed to help her out.
But she continues re-explaining it anyway.
“So I can’t ditch The Exchange on the busiest night of the year— their Valentine’s Day auction. But I also can’t skip out on Valentine’s Day dinner with Billy, and miss out on finding out whether or not he’s going to propose. So that’s where you come in, and I’m very grateful to you for helping me out.”
“But is it really that easy to just substitute you for me ?” I ask her, skeptical. “Aren’t there, like, regular customers of yours—“
“Clients,” she interjects, as if I’d just called her a prostitute—
“Fine, clients of yours that will be upset if they show up intending to bid on you and instead see me up there on the… stage?” I squish my nose up in disgust. “And is really a stage? Like a cattle auction? Seriously?”
“Celeste, you’re sounding judgmental again,” Rachel growls.
“Sorry. Just wondering. Since I’m going to be the one up there and all.”
“Look, you know you’re the only person I could ask to step in for me,” she begs. “You’re the only person in the world who even knows that I do this. I understand where your judgment is coming from and maybe I deserve it in return for the favor you’re doing me but it’s not like I’m cattle. They want me across the table from them at dinner. They want my conversation. Not just my looks but also my personality. My amazing wit.”
I laugh.
“Well, you do have all those things,” I tell her. And she does.
“But yes, initially it’s based on looks. Isn’t that how human biology works? Yes, we stand up there so they’ll see what they’re bidding on. And no, they won’t be disappointed when they see you inst
ead of me. Trust me.”
“What do you mean?” I ask her, my interest piqued.
Now she’s appealing to my ego. Rachel’s good.
“Well, just look at you,” she says, waving her hand up and down to indicate my entire figure in the full length mirror hanging on her bedroom door. “You’re every guy’s wet dream.”
“I am not,” I insist. “I’ve gained my freshman fifteen and then some.”
“It’s only enhanced your curves, your boobs. It’s given you a healthy glow. You needed to gain some weight. You look healthy now. Vibrant.”
“Thanks, Dr. Rachel,” I tell her, but I’m pleased that she thinks the guys will like me. At this human auction I would never go to if it weren’t for her.
“And they like new girls,” she says. “Believe it or not, due to the stigma there aren’t a ton of girls willing to do this even though it pays very well and you get free filet mignon and unlimited drinks out of the deal as well.”
“You drink with them?” I ask, aghast.
“Oh honey,” she says, as if I have a lot to learn. And I guess she’s right. I do. “Money talks. No one cards these guys or their dates.”
That’s good, because I could certainly use some liquid courage.
“They’ll be thrilled to see a new face and they’ll thank me later,” she insists. “It’s a tightknit club and the whole goal is to please the clients. I’ll get extra brownie points and maybe even a bonus when I go back tomorrow. If I go back tomorrow.”
She pauses, staring off into the distance as if daydreaming.
“If Billy doesn’t propose, which I really hope he does,” she concludes.
I take her hand again and squeeze it.
“He will definitely propose,” I tell her. “And you can quit working at the cattle auction and live happily ever after with your handsome sugar daddy.”
Billy is in finance and makes a lot of money. Rachel’s not with him for that, but it sure doesn’t hurt. I really do want her to continue to find love, stability and riches with the guy of her dreams. So much so that I’m willing to stand in her place as human cattle.
“And you might just actually surprise yourself and have fun tonight as well,” she responds.
I raise an eyebrow at her, incredulous. Even though I was already kind of thinking that myself. I’m not going to admit it to her, though.
“Oh come on,” she says. “Just think of what happened with you and Tom.”
“I don’t want to,” I quickly say.
Why does she have to bring that up? It’s definitely not the way to stay in my good graces.
“I’m just saying,” she continues. “These men are experienced. Older— but not too old. They know what they’re doing. You might actually find that you like the power dynamic. You might be able to loosen up and let yourself go for once.”
“I thought you only have dinner with them,” I tell her.
She blushes, just the slightest bit, and I realize there is way more to her secret life at this club than she’s told even me.
She probably usually only has dinner with them, but I bet there have been one or two that she’s let do more, for the right price. She’s far from a virgin like me. Guys have always flocked to her and she’s been more than willing to experiment.
It’s not that I judge her for that. In fact, I’m jealous of her openness compared to my shyness.
“I’m just saying,” she says. “You never know what might happen.”
“Well, good luck with Billy. I think you’ll be getting a ring tonight and I want to hear all about it.”
“Not until tomorrow,” she says, shaking her head. “No cell phones are permitted at The Exchange. It’s a very strict rule.”
“What?” I ask, thinking this is probably just one big thing on a long list of many she should have told me before I agreed to work her shift tonight.
“Never mind,” I add, as I peer down the hallway of her small apartment and look at the devil-tailed cat clock hanging above her kitchen stove.
We both have to go, or she’ll miss her proposal and I’ll miss the craziest thing I’ve ever agreed to do in my life.
“Do you have any quick words of wisdom for me before I embark on my descent into debauchery?” I ask her.
I know she’ll think that’s a judgmental comment, but I’m getting her back for bringing up Tom: my most dreaded and embarrassing subject.
“Yeah,” she says. “Just make sure you choose the yellow bracelet.”
“The yellow bracelet? What does that mean? What are the other bracelets for?”
But she’s already left the bathroom and is gathering her coat and purse from the living room.
I guess the significance of the yellow bracelet— or any kind of bracelet at all— is just one of the many things I’m going to have to find out for myself tonight.
Chapter 3 – Maxim
I look at my watch as my father and my business partner, Steve, order another drink at the Palacio bar, which is located in the lobby of the bank building where our offices are. It’s been a hell of a day and I just want to get out of here. But my dad’s not a huge fan of where I’m going so I need to find a way to sneak out without incurring his wrath.
“So, how is the merger with Adams Capital looking?” my dad asks.
Great . This is the second subject of conversation I had wanted to avoid. In addition to the one about where I’m headed next.
“Fine,” I tell him, even though I had just gotten into a shouting match with Adams’ lawyer about the due diligence work.
I don’t like to tell my father things that will upset him. He has a bad temper. And he thinks that because he started our finance company that he’s the boss and can do and say what he wants. He fails to realize that I’m in the trenches all day, doing the dirty work that needs to be done so that our company continues to flourish.
He has no respect for me, but that’s okay. I know my worth. It’s four billion dollars, last time I checked. $4.3 billion, in my share of equity and stocks. Not to mention a huge house, three vacation houses, a private jet and a Lamborghini.
But the problem is that it’s all tied up in company interests and attached to my dad’s name as much as mine. So I have to be careful to always stay in very good graces with him, as least by the things I say to him. And then I can— and do— turn around and do what I damn well please.
And I know my dad has been through a lot. Mom left him when I was little and I spent most of my time with her, although I summered with my dad at his Cape Cod estate and then started working in his New York City office when I was in high school, which meant spending part of my time at an elite boarding school. It all added up to great experience and now, many years later, I’ve helped my dad build our expanding Southwest and West Coast branches of the firm, including this one in Phoenix where we’re now headquartered.
My mom put my dad through an expensive divorce and tried to smear his name in the society papers but he has always lived a lifestyle beyond reproach— she is the one who cheated on him and left him for the fucking pool boy. He had the upper hand morally and the courts were happy to let me choose who I wanted to stay with. By the time I was fourteen, that was him and I admire his strength although sometimes I wish he’d get down off his high horse.
He remarried a nice church girl who came from a family with a lot of money. My step mom is all right and they have a solid marriage. But I don’t think he ever got over my mom and I for one have learned that commitment is for suckers.
I don’t know how he could ever re-marry again after what my mom put him through. I certainly don’t plan to follow in his footsteps in that regard. He has taught me everything he knows about business and finance but he doesn’t even try to teach me about relationships and that’s good because I don’t want to be in one.
“How’s the due diligence coming along?” Steven asks, but I shoot him a look that says I don’t want to fucking talk about it.
He shirks back in his chair
and mumbles, “We’ll talk about it at our morning meeting tomorrow.”
“Good idea,” I say, grateful for my excuse to leave. “I’ve got to head out.”
“You’re leaving already?” the bartender pouts, and my eyes shoot her daggers.
As usual, she doesn’t seem to notice.
“It’s Valentine’s Day,” she continues. “Any big plans?”
I shake my head.
Jenna has worked here for years and is friendly and competent at her job, but a little too damn nosy and talkative. Sometimes I just want to leave without having to answer a million questions.
“No,” I tell her, resolutely.
“You’re not going to that awful club are you?” my dad asks.
I shrug.
“Why don’t you take Jenna here out on a date?” Steven says with a smile.
I know he’s joking and he’s probably doing it to diffuse tension but I aim my glare at him now. He doesn’t need to be encouraging Jenna. She’s been infatuated with me for a long time and would probably cut out on work if she thought I would agree to Steven’s suggestion, even if it meant losing her job.
Lots of women want to fuck me. I’m rich but I also happen to be good-looking and well-hung. These women think they can show me a good time but they don’t know what sort of things I’m into. No one does, although my father has some sort of a clue, and obviously disapproves.
“That’s a great idea, son,” he says now, nodding at Steven and then at me. He wouldn’t normally approve of me dating a bartender but he’d also do anything to get me out of going to the club.
“Very funny,” I tell them, pretending it’s all some big joke.
But I know that my dad’s patience with me is wearing thin. He wants me to act normal, settle down with a good girl, avoid The Exchange and be like every other middle aged man with a boring sex life and an apathetic relationship.
That’s not going to happen but I have to do a better job of acting like it’s going to, since Father Dearest still controls the purse strings.
But not tonight.
Tonight there’s going to be a new girl at The Exchange. As one of the VIP members, I’ve heard rumors that she’s only going to be working on one night: a Valentine’s Day special. I know I’ll be the highest bidder, because I have the most to spend and I intend to buy her. I hope she’s worth it.