Jared
“Jared, you’re not making this easy.”
Belinda sighs in exasperation as she leans back heavily in her chair. The irritated look she casts me conveys more about her attitude toward me than I need to know. This is the third time in two months that we've met like this, always for the same purpose.
To find me a new girl.
Every time I walked out of here, I left with a new picture, a new name, a new promise. But after three failed attempts, the excitement has ebbed down to nothing more than a feeble hope.
The agency typically operates through its online catalog, but they make exceptions for clients like me. Clients who are flush with cash, willing to pay insane amounts of money to satisfy their insane conditions. There's an extra file for clients like me, one that’s only available to browse through in person. A file filled with extra pretty girls willing to go the extra mile.
I flip through page after page, shaking my head, essentially denying every single one of these extra special gems.
"What in the world is it you're looking for?" Belinda asks, pursing her deep crimson lips. She should know better. I've been working with her long enough for her to know damn well what kind of girl I like and what I ask of them. Yet here she is, overreacting to my elaborate search for the perfect one.
All of these girls are pretty, all of them are naughty and kinky in their own way, and all of them seek to please. But after trying out three girls from this heavily scrutinized selection, I can say with certainty that most of them are incapable of meeting my preferences. They lack the toughness, professionalism, and brains to comprehend the contract they're signing.
"Not this," I finally reply, throwing the folder onto the table between us.
Belinda flinches, her eyes flickering at me through the thick black mascara framing her dark eyes. She has been working in this business for years, and is the classic example of a high class madam brothel with her extravagant make-up and attitude indicative of a true Domme.
"These are the best we have, Jared," she says matter-of-factly, lifting her hands in defense to imply there's nothing more she can do for me. "What was wrong with the last one? You had her almost an entire month before deciding she's no good either."
"She didn't understand the rules," I say simply.
"The rules," Belinda repeats, rolling her eyes, a gesture that would infuriate me if she was any other person in any other situation, but I can understand her annoyance as well as I can my own. I know that what - or who - she's offering to me is the best of the best. Yet, I'm refusing one after another for reasons that may be hard for others to grasp.
Maybe I am asking too much, but I'm not willing to give up just yet. I need a woman at my side, a woman who can serve as both the loyal partner in the public eye and the submissive slut behind closed doors, a woman who's smart enough to be both while keeping it strictly business. I don't do love, not even if it's one-sided. Romance weakens the character. It’s a deficiency that I have no room for.
I can't afford to be weak if I want to accomplish my goal.
"Well, this is all I have for you this week," Belinda says, sighing heavily. "You either give one of these a try, or come back when we've updated the file."
I cast her a questioning look.
"We are always looking for new girls," she explains. "But as you know, most of them are only in this for a short-term engagement. One night, maybe a week. Just occasional dates with different clients. Very few of them are willing to be exclusive. And those who seek exclusivity are usually here to find a husband, their 'true love,' as they call it, which as far as I understand it, is not what you're looking for."
"Certainly not," I retort, shaking my head. "But I need someone who can fake that."
"A girl’s heart works differently than a man’s," she reminds me, her voice taking on a wise tone. "I doubt you'll find one who's as calculating as you are."
I regard her with a quick look, my eyes narrowed and eyebrows knitted.
"One thing is for certain," I say. "If a girl like that exists, I'm sure she'll be in that catalog."
Belinda's eyes follow my motion as I get up from my seat.
"Let me know when you have something new to offer," I tell her, nodding a quick goodbye as I make my way to the door.
"Certainly," she replies.
I knew this wouldn't be easy, but I didn't expect it to be this hard, that’s for damned sure. This agency has served me well for the past several years, and I was confident they could provide me with whatever I needed, even now that my demands have changed. My campaign manager insisted that if it’s my goal to run for Congress that I should have an attractive woman at my side. I objected at first, but I could see his point. There's nothing more disruptive than the spread of rumors and gossip about a man's personal life when he's a political candidate. Especially in a case like mine, where it's all too easy to dig up some dirt...
Things are a lot easier if there's a wife or a fiancée in the picture. As long as there's a woman hanging on your arm and a visible ring on that damn finger, it gives you credibility; she makes you appear mature and loyal, even at a young age. It's stupid, but if I want to play the game, I will have to abide by the rules.
I walk through the halls of the agency as I've done many times before, my hands buried in my pockets, my gaze lowered as I contemplate the problem at hand. There's not much time left, and if I don't find a suitable girl within the next month, I might have to change my plan. I wouldn't be the first Congressman without a spouse at his side.
As I head for the elevator, my eyes wander off to the waiting area that's located at the entrance. I've never seen anyone sitting there before, and have actually always wondered why a high-caliber escort agency would even need a reception and waiting area. Privacy is always maintained and clients are never asked to wait when they arrive for an appointment.
I’m somewhat taken aback when I notice a young woman sitting there. It appears that the same rules don't necessarily apply to the girls hired to work here.
She's sitting in the far back corner, her hands neatly placed in her lap, and her back straightened in an unnatural pose when she turns her head in my direction. Our eyes meet, and for a moment it looks as if she's about to jump up to greet me. She remains put when she sees that I’m not making an effort to rush over to greet her. Her long, ash blond hair is tied up in a ponytail, a hair style that I've never once seen on any of the girls representing this establishment. She's wearing dark-colored skinny jeans and a prim white blouse layered beneath a fake leather jacket, and her lips are painted an intense red, standing out against the pale color of her skin. She's a beauty, that's for sure. A bit on the slim side, but it matches her narrow frame. I usually prefer my women with a little more flesh on their bones and lush curves, emphasizing all the right places. She looks like a teenager who's not finished coming into herself yet, even though I know she must be at least eighteen years old to work here.
She looks smart, sassy, and very well put together. How come I've never seen her profile in any of the files I've been looking at? Is she new?
A beep announces the arrival of the elevator shortly before the doors glide open in front of me. But instead of stepping inside, I turn on the spot and head straight toward the pretty stranger.