“You’re holding something back.”
His read on me took me off guard. Maybe having the mask and wig had given me a false sense of privacy. I sighed, chewed on my lip, and ultimately reasoned that if I couldn’t admit my problem out loud to a stranger who was being paid to help me, then I couldn’t possibly fix it. “I believe the problem on the dates is me.”
“How so?” His voice was soft and not at all condescending.
“I think that over the first few months of dating I talked a lot about my divorce. Then I realized that was about the biggest buzzkill for a first date ever, so I stopped doing it, but…”
“But what?”
My dramatic lead-up was making it sound like I had some sort of dysfunction whereby I started barking during the appetizer. “Sorry, it’s just something my ex implied, and I shouldn’t believe, but maybe it’s true.” I sighed. “I think I’m boring.”
“Boring?” I was reasonably sure that if I could see his eyebrows, one would be raised in surprise.
“Yes. As in safe, dull, predictable.”
“How so?”
Now that I was admitting it out loud, it came out like a fire hose. “I make lists for everything from groceries to reasons I should or shouldn’t have come here tonight. I have a set night where I pay bills and attend to my taxes, and I enjoy doing both. And you know how New Yorkers will walk into the street and survey traffic before they’d look at the walk/don’t walk signs? Well, not me. I’ll sit there on the corner waiting for that little white man to appear on the sign for my designated time to walk. Basically, where there’s a rule, I’m a follower. Where there’s a risk, I avoid it.”
His eyes showed some amusement before he tried to hide it. “Kat, you’re currently sitting in a sex club, which I would argue is the opposite from safe, boring, and predictable. Matter of fact, it’s pretty bold.”
“And that’s part of the reason why I’m here. I’m tired of being a golden retriever.”
He’d been taking a sip of water and nearly spit it out. A low chuckle accompanied his handsome grin. “Did you just compare yourself to a dog?”
I nodded, having come up with the metaphor months ago, although I’d yet to share it with anyone. “Everyone knows you get a golden retriever when you want a reliable, safe-around-the-kids, not-too-much-trouble kind of dog. But there’s nothing intriguing, unique, or overly exciting about one.”
His mouth was twitching. “You’re not a breed of dog.”
“Fine, then I’m a Volvo. A Consumer Reports top safety pick which does well in a crash, but about which no one has a thrilling story. I mean, when’s the last time you heard someone start an exciting story with, ‘This one time when I was driving my Volvo…’? Nothing exhilarating happens with a car like that.”
He didn’t bother to hide his grin. “I’m sure all of that couldn’t have been easy to share, but it gives me some insight. And as far as the term ‘boring’ goes, it’s a matter of perspective. Say you pick a vacation, someone who craves adventure won’t want to park their butt on a beach all week, and someone who loves nature isn’t going to enjoy a busy city. Boredom depends on the viewpoint, as does every other attribute. At the end of the day, what somebody may find dull in a relationship, someone else may find adorable. What one person finds crazy, another person thinks as fun. And for the record, golden retrievers are the most popular dog breed for a reason.”
“I suppose.” I wasn’t looking for him to convince me otherwise, but it did feel good to get it all out.
“How about you tell me three fun facts about you right now.”
I froze.
“Don’t overthink it; just blurt out three interesting things.”
This wasn’t a test, and yet I was anxious like it was. “Um, I’ve never been sunburned because I’m fanatical about sunscreen, I love a good horror film, and my birthday is on Halloween.”
His encouraging smile made me feel as if I’d accomplished something even though none of those three things struck me as interesting enough to have said out loud.
“See, those are all things I now want to know more about. And a great icebreaker to ask someone on a date.”
I let out a breath, thinking it wasn’t a bad idea. But of course I’d have to come up with better things to share. I mean, sunscreen, really, Catherine?
“Did you enjoy trick-or-treating on your birthday while growing up?”
“No, in fact, I kind of hated it. I never understood the whole deal of getting candy from strangers in a costume that was uncomfortable at best when you could buy a bag of your favorite stuff and sit at home watching a good horror movie on television. All the best ones are shown on Halloween night.”
“But what about your birthday—did you do a celebration?”
“We’d normally have a party on the weekend closest, which was fine. My mom once wanted to have a Halloween-themed birthday celebration for me, but I refused to combine the two. Maybe because I wasn’t any fun when I was a child, either.”
He chuckled. “Kat, there isn’t anything you’ve told me that wasn’t amusing. And it’s kind of true about Halloween. There’s somebody at the door giving you tootsie rolls when you could’ve bought a bag of Reese’s peanut butter cups and enjoyed them yourself at home.”
“See, I was always the kid that liked the tootsie rolls.” Good grief, even my candy choice was dreadfully dull.
“So you’re the one,” he teased and then leaned forward, his eyes intent on mine. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“How committed to this are you?”
I thought about it for a moment before responding. “Very, but I’ll be honest and say my free time is somewhat limited during the week, as I travel and have quite a few after-hour work commitments. This week is an exception.”
“Can you come here for the next four nights?”
“Uh…” I hadn’t been expecting that.
“Before you answer, let me explain. I’m not here full-time, and my schedule tends to fluctuate, but I have openings during the rest of this week. Rather than meet sporadically, it gives us at least four more sessions in which we could make progress. Since I assume you wouldn’t want me listening in on your dates because then I’d know your identity, I want to use the time to act out exercises as if I’m your date.”
“What would that entail?”
“We’d meet here and go over tips. Then I’d text you each day to gage your flirting skills. And before you ask, to keep the confidentiality, you’d need to obtain a separate phone with a new number. You can pick up those pre-paid devices almost anywhere now. ”
I quite liked this idea. No pressure to actually date, but I could get tips and feedback from a man and figure out what I could improve upon. “Okay. I’ll block out my evenings this week and pick up a phone for this exercise.”
“Good. As for the other reason you’re here.”
Ah yes, the sexual confidence part. My face heated at the thought of discussing this particular topic. Derek, my previous instructor, had hinted that I might want to step up to the next class for physical lessons, so I held my breath as I waited to hear what Calvin would suggest.
“I have an assignment for you, and since you appreciate lists, this should be right up your alley. You’re going to write down fifty things you’ve always wanted to do, and I challenge you to make at least half of them sexual. Perhaps your ex wasn’t good at something in bed, or maybe it’s something you’ve always wanted to do, but I want you to really challenge yourself. Be honest. Most of all, think of things out of your comfort zone. Those twenty-five sexual things should be your fantasy, whether it’s being tied to a bed or joining the mile-high club.”
I had no desire to have sex in an airplane lavatory. But considering my sex life with the ex had been generic-store-brand-with-the-ice-crystals-because-it-had-been-in-the-freezer-too-long kind of sex, well, I could definitely come up with some quality Haagen-Dazs type scenarios. “Okay, I think I can do th
at.”
He leaned back and smiled. Then we worked out the logistics for timing the rest of the week before he checked his watch.
“We have a few minutes left. Do you want assistance with your fifty items?”
“Um, I think I’ll be all right.” After all, what else was Google for?
CHAPTER TWO
The next day in my office, I didn’t have a chance to focus on my assignment until I was scarfing down dinner at my desk that evening. I absolutely loved my job as the editor-in-chief of Cosmopolitan Life magazine. Although at the top of my career, I was hardly resting on my laurels. Instead, I was working harder than I ever had, ensuring the magazine kept up with the times and, most important, connected with readers. Of course, some of that hard work was due to my not having much of a life outside of my profession these days.
Shifting from my thoughts about my career to my task from Calvin, I sighed, unfortunately drawing a completely boring blank as to what to put on my list. Ask me fifty items of clothing expected to be hot this upcoming fall, and I could do it in my sleep. Ask me fifty of the top makeup tips, I’d have it down in no time. But ask me to make a list of sexual things without the assistance of the internet? Yeah, right.
You’d think the amazing corner office view from the forty-third floor of Times Square would lend itself to some sort of crazy inspiration, given the busy epicenter of the city below. But at the moment, it wasn’t doing shit for my brainstorming ability to come up with twenty-five sexual scenarios.
Deciding to focus on the first half of the list, I found the going easier. Bungee jumping, sky diving, attending Carnival in Rio, and hiking Machu Picchu topped the first twenty-five of my exciting bucket-list type activities.
Next, I googled a list of sexual items, but after inadvertently accessing a couple hard-core sites, I had to shut it down for fear the IT department would call up to ask what in the hell I was doing. At least this is where being a magazine editor came in handy since we featured at least one sex article per issue. I could always use ‘research’ as a convenient excuse for having stumbled across porn. Meanwhile, my search had thankfully kick-started my thought process. Before I knew it, my list was filled, clearly a testament to the number of sexual things I actually did look forward to.
I felt better already about the first step in my effort to bring out a more adventurous side of myself. But before I headed to the club to show the list to Calvin, I had another mission.
This particular mission had me waiting on a phone call from my friend Haylee. She was on her way into town in order to do something special for someone we both adored: Sasha.
I’d met Haylee two years ago in London and learned she coincidentally worked for my friend Josh. We’d struck up a conversation about vintage fashion. Since she was a model and had a closet full of iconic treasures, I’d featured her along with those dresses in my magazine. That spread was still one of my favorite cover features. She and Josh had gone on to marry earlier this year and were now new parents of a beautiful baby girl.
Haylee had introduced me to Sasha, who didn’t know it yet, but was to be proposed to this evening by her boyfriend, Brian. Haylee and I had been recruited by Brian to set up a romantic setting in his hotel suite for the big question. Yesterday, I’d had the pleasure of helping him pick out a ring.
I didn’t take our task tonight lightly. For a man to go to the trouble to call in reinforcements to make the moment perfect for his love signified that romance was alive and well. It gave me hope to know there were men out there who wanted to make such an effort for the women they loved.
Once the call came in, I made my way over to the W Hotel where I met Haylee in the lobby.
She was beautiful and fresh faced as always with her natural, girl-next-door looks. She’d thrown her long brown hair up into a high ponytail and opted for a casual chic style in capris and a T-shirt. “Sorry. The train was running late, and I had to drop off the baby with Josh. Do you know if Brian got the ring?”
“He sure did. We met yesterday and he’s all set, but where are the roses and champagne?” I surveyed the lobby, expecting a florist or delivery guy. Instead, I saw the familiar face of Will MacPherson as he walked in carrying a few dozen.
“Ah, right on cue. Thanks for the help Will,” Haylee said and then led us all up to the suite.
Will had not only modeled for my magazine a number of times, but also was building a name for himself in the fashion world. He was one of the nicest guys in the business, not to mention gorgeous, with his blue eyes, dark brown hair, and boyish grin. He was the quintessential clean-cut, every-woman’s-fantasy type of guy.
“Hiya Catherine. Nice to see you.”
His charming Australian accent made me instantly wish he was ten years older. “You, too. I’ve heard you’ve been busy.” He’d been signed by Calvin Klein and had also done several other high-profile modelling jobs lately.
His smile widened. “I’m lucky. Ever since you put Haylee and me on your magazine cover, I’ve had a steady stream of jobs.”
It had been my pleasure to do it. One of the perks of being in my professional position was the opportunity to find new talent and give them a break in the industry.
Hearing the buzz of my phone, I took it out and frowned at the number. It was the second time my ex-husband, Michael, had called me today—and this after not hearing from him for months. Silencing the phone, I tossed it into my purse, knowing that whatever he wanted it would only ruin my good mood.
Fifteen minutes later, all three of us stood back and admired our work in the luxurious suite, having made it a romantic backdrop, just as Brian had asked. Then Haylee and I said goodbye to Will as we left the hotel.
“Let me text Brian that we’re done. He’s been stalling with Sasha,” Haylee said, smiling. “Oh, and Josh and Brian already have plans together this weekend in Vegas. Assuming Sasha says yes tonight, they were going to make it into a bachelor thing. But since it’s one of my last weekends off before school starts again, I thought us girls could maybe go to crash it and do an engagement party while we’re there. Of course, I’ll have to ask Sasha first, but if she’s game, can you come?”
I laughed at Haylee’s presumption, but decided it did, in fact, sound fun. “Uh, I think so.” Wasn’t like I had many plans these days over a weekend, and perhaps adventure awaited in Sin City.
***
By the time I arrived at Club Travesty an hour later, I realized the nervousness I’d initially felt last night over hiding my identity had been replaced by the anticipation of meeting Calvin and finding out what my next lesson would be.
The same mask greeted me, only this time Calvin was dressed in a charcoal gray dress shirt with black slacks. “Hello, Kat.”
Hello, Mr. Sexy Voice. “Hi, Calvin.”
“I take it by the paper in your hand you’ve completed your list?”
“Yes.” But suddenly I didn’t feel comfortable handing it over.
He must’ve sensed my hesitancy. “How about I take it and put it aside for now? Why don’t we instead work on your matchmaker’s list of traits you want in a man? Give me an overview of the basics in what you’re searching for in a partner.”
Sighing in relief, I thought that sounded much less daunting than having him read my wish list of sexual experiences. “Okay. Well, I guess first off, he should be older. Established in his career and respects mine. He needs to be financially independent.” Frankly, I didn’t care for another partner I’d have to worry would be competitive and insecure about me making more money than he did or who’d resent my career. “And I need someone who desires marriage and a family, uh, soon, because of my age.”
“I know being anonymous means I’m not privy to how old you are, but it does say you’re in your thirties. That means you don’t need to be in too much of a rush, doesn’t it?”
I swallowed hard. “It feels like every year that goes by, I may be losing the opportunity, so you could say I need to ensure we’re on the same page from th
e beginning.”
“Okay, but why does he need to be older? Some younger guys adore kids. It doesn’t have anything to do with their age; it’s just the time in your life you want those types of things.”
Jesus, I could practically hear my ovaries wake up and wonder if Calvin meant himself. Down girls. He was only generalizing.
“I suppose it’s possible.”
“What about characteristics? What’s important to you?” He was writing down the things I’d said thus far.
“Integrity, loyalty, and I want him to respect what I do. He doesn’t have to know every detail, but I need him to support me in what makes me happy and—” I paused, trying to think about how to vocalize something else. A trait I’d seen, but never experienced.
“And what, Kat?
Weird. For a moment his American accent sounded decidedly Australian. Must be a residual effect of having talked with Will earlier tonight.
“I want a man who puts forth the effort. It may sound silly, but in addition to the work which makes a relationship successful, I desire someone who thinks of me and loves to do those little romantic gestures.”
“That’s not silly; that’s love.”
My eyes met his for a moment, and I appreciated he was completely genuine with his words.
“And what about in the bedroom? What kind of man do you want there?”
Somehow I thought the response of ‘one who is willing’ might only highlight how long it had been. “Uh, I’m not sure how to answer that. Is it on the form?”
“No, but I think it’s a significant question you should ask yourself. Sexual chemistry should be as important, at least in my opinion, as the mental connection you have with someone over dinner. Perhaps in the bedroom, you’d prefer to take the lead or—”
I shook my head. “Although I don’t mind initiating…” which I’d often had to do in the final years of my marriage. “I kind of want a guy who’ll take charge in the bedroom, almost as if he can’t help himself. An alpha-male type perhaps?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?” His voice was laced with humor.
Teach Me Something (Something Series Book 4) Page 2