Sadie
On Monday, I went back to work, and I had to pretend like nothing had happened. But I also had to figure out how I was going to set things up so that Micah’s prostitutes would end up with one of the bankers’ clients.
That morning, I’d gotten up the way I always did, taken a quick shower—more to wake myself up than to actually get clean—and had a cup of coffee. Chris had still been asleep in his room when I’d gotten dressed for work, thinking all the while about who I could waylay first, who I could get to go along with Micah’s plan.
Chris had apparently decided that he was either not curious about what he’d heard from my bedroom or just wanted to pretend that it hadn’t happened; we hadn’t talked about it at all the rest of the weekend, while I made my lunches for the week and made dinner for Saturday and Sunday night. We agreed that Chris was going to lie low until I managed to discharge his debt.
I had told him about the new plan and he’d been shocked that Micah was willing to get me involved in his business. “I knew that he’d wanted to expand things, get access to better clientele—but I didn’t know he was interested in that kind of better clientele,” Chris had said, once I explained what Micah had wanted from me.
“It makes sense, in a certain way,” I’d had to admit. “I mean—it would make sense if he wanted to expand things and grow his business, repeat clientele who have deep pockets would be a good idea.”
I hadn’t liked the idea, even as I acknowledged the sense in it. If it had been someone else Micah had gone to, I would have possibly even encouraged him; but because it was my job on the line, my reputation that might be destroyed, I couldn’t really like it.
I pulled into my parking spot at the bank, and went to my desk, and thought about how to go about doing what Micah wanted. He’d told me—jokingly, at least half-way—that it couldn’t be hard to sell my coworkers on the concept of making their clients happy. But who would I go to first? It wasn’t like I could make some kind of general announcement—or write up some kind of memo—telling the group I worked with that I was able to facilitate a hookup between their clients and some prostitutes.
Oh yes, that’d go over well: “To Whom it May Concern: it’s come to my attention that many of our male clientele enjoy having sex, some of them with women other than their wives. I think it would be worth exploring a connection I recently developed to provide for this particular preference in the interest of developing deeper and more meaningful connections with our potential and current clients…”
I would need to try and start it with just one of my coworkers. I considered my options as I went about my typical Monday morning chores. I was the only woman in the office; there were a few other women who worked in the company, but they were in different areas of the bank, and almost never came to my side of the office building. How I’d ended up the sole source of estrogen in an entire office was beyond me, but it had—I had to admit—come with certain benefits. If I ever wanted a date to something, I’d had only to ask Jack or Nate, at least before they’d started seeing people. I could have asked Harold, too—but he was a bit old for me.
I looked around as it got closer to lunch and tried to decide who I should approach. I didn’t think that Paul would be a good choice; he was married man, only slightly younger than Harold, and seemed to mostly be straight-laced. Harold might be someone I could talk to but the idea of going to a divorced, middle-aged man and proposing that he let me hook him or his clients up with prostitutes gave me the creeps.
That left Jack and Nate. They were both within the age range where we had hung out a few times at work functions or after work until they got girlfriends, and they’d both made it clear that they thought I was attractive. If I had been actually interested in dating either of the guys it might have worked out pretty decently—but I didn’t really find either of them all that attractive.
“Yes!” Jack pumped his fists in the air in his office. I grinned and looked up, all polite interest.
“Good news?”
Jack looked out through the door of his office and beamed at me. He was objectively kind of cute: short, dark hair, dark eyes, clean-shaven, always wore tailored suits to the office, got his shoes shined weekly. The fact that all he seemed to be interested in was clothes, accounts, and cars was what had actually turned me off about him. I don’t think he’d ever read a book that wasn’t along the lines of The Secret, at least not once he’d gotten his MBA. But he was good at his job.
“Just got someone on the hook,” Jack told me. “Potential new client for Wealth Management services.”
“Oh really?” Jack nodded in response to my question. He came out of his office to lean against my desk.
“He’s come into a fortune recently after selling off his company, and is looking to invest in such a way that he doesn’t have to work for a long time while he goes about working on his next big hit,” Jack explained. “Seems like a solid dude.”
I pressed my lips together; this was exactly the kind of opening that I could use for Micah’s idea: give Jack the line that he could really get the client on his side, seeing things his way, if he got him “companionship” for the night, a little after-dinner entertainment. But I wasn’t sure even how to broach the topic.
I went to lunch and tried to think of how to go about bringing Jack around to the idea. I thought I’d start out with some hints, and work up to a direct proposal of what I wanted him to do. I picked at my food—pasta salad with chopped up baked chicken, bell pepper, corn, avocado and cheese—and considered. Of course, Jack was out somewhere eating steak or pasta or something; probably having a martini or a beer. I looked around the courtyard, considering my approach, what hints I would drop to get the effect I wanted.
Being the only woman in the office, I had a kind of “allure”—even once Jack and Nate had gotten girlfriends, they came to me for advice on them. I’d never really thought much of it; I wasn’t really the type of woman—at least, as far as I was concerned—to play the vixen, but it was something that I thought I might be able to use. As I tried to make myself eat, and tried to think of an approach, my thoughts turned to Micah once more.
Stop lying to yourself, I thought; you haven’t actually stopped thinking about Micah since Saturday afternoon when he left the apartment. I felt my cheeks burning up with the blood rushing into my face. By all rights I should have hated Micah, never wanted to see him again, been revolted by him. I should have felt like a victim, from the way he’d treated me both times we’d had sex. But there was some very large part of my mind that thrilled at the way Micah had dominated me, the fact that I’d come as hard as I had, the words he’d said to me and made me say. I shuddered, remembering all too well the feeling of him inside of me, the way he touched me, the sound of his voice in my ear and the intensity of everything. It was unlike any other experience I’d had in my life, and I couldn’t deny the fact that I had never—ever—come so hard with anyone else I’d been with; not that I’d been with very many guys.
“You look lonely,” Jack said, stopping on his way through the courtyard to sit down across from me at the table. I rolled my eyes with a little grin, and sat back a little bit.
“Just thinking,” I replied.
“You’re too pretty to be sitting around by yourself thinking,” Jack joked.
“I could say the same to you,” I countered. “But I suspect you didn’t have lunch all by your lonesome.”
Jack grinned. “I did meet with a client who is looking to maybe cross-enroll in services. Older lady—total cougar.”
“Did she buy your liquor for you and pinch your cheek?”
Jack snorted. “I kept it strictly business; I paid with the corporate AmEx,” he told me. “What are you having?”
“A sort of pasta salad deal,” I replied, showing him the contents of my Tupperware. “Some of us don’t have cushy corporate card deals where we can expense steak-and-martini lunches.”
“You could if you got into the actual sales end of things,” Jack pointed out.
“Not really an interest I have,” I told him. “I’m more an analysis-and-reports person, less a ‘deal with people’ person.” I thought for a few moments. “So what about that deal you were working on before lunch?”
“What about it?”
“Any plans about how you’re going to really get him hooked?”
Jack gave me a curious look. “Suddenly you’re interested in my deals?” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“I know you’ve been working hard at it,” I pointed out. “And I might have an idea or two about how to increase the chances of success.”
“I thought you said you’re an analysis-and-reports person,” Jack countered.
“I am, and I’ve done some analysis on attracting clients,” I said.
“Do tell,” Jack said, looking amused. I caught the shift of his gaze from his face to my chest and then quickly back up again.
“Well, in case it hasn’t occurred to you, I do manage your receipts and reimbursements,” I explained. “I’ve noticed that you spend a lot of money on wining and dining them.”
“Part of the whole business,” Jack said with a shrug. “As long as it’s within the guidelines for accounting, why should I worry about it?”
“Well, you want to be efficient, right?” I took another bite of my pasta salad and let Jack consider that.
“Okay, I’m interested,” Jack said. “How can I be more efficient?” My heart was beating faster and faster in my chest, but I actually felt my appetite coming back to me, my mind focusing.
“Entertainment,” I told him. Jack’s lips twisted into a half-smile.
“Entertainment?” I nodded.
“Look at it this way,” I said. “You can spend a little less on the meal, and a little more on post-meal entertainment, and—depending on how you entertain someone—they’ll remember a lot more vividly than if you spent a mint on the meal.”
“Just what kind of entertainment are we talking about?” I checked the time on my phone; I needed to be back at my desk in fifteen minutes.
“Let’s just say I have some connections,” I said, grinning at Jack a little bit. “I know some—shall we say—friendly companionship that could help warm some hotel rooms for clients of yours.” Jack’s eyes widened.
“Escorts?” I nodded.
“Acquaintances of mine,” I said with a shrug. I had never met a single one of the prostitutes working for Micah, but that wasn’t important. An idea crystallized in my head. If you give him the idea for free, the connection for free, he’s not going to do it. Make him pay for it.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” I told Jack quickly, dropping my voice a bit lower so it wouldn’t carry—and so he’d think I was being conspiratorial. “I can hook up that new client you’re trying to reel in with a girl when he comes to town; all I want in return is a little gratitude and maybe a little piece of that end-of-year bonus you’ll get on the account.” I raised an eyebrow to emphasize my point and let the offer hang in the air between us.
Jack extended his hand toward me. I shook it.
“If you can make it happen, and if I get the account as a result, then I’ll be glad to be generous at the holidays,” Jack said, giving my hand a squeeze.
“If you get it,” I said, keeping eye contact, “and this guy turns out to be happy, then you can spread the word to Nate, maybe some of the account guys in other parts of the bank.”
Jack nodded. “If this works out right,” he said, “I’ll have more clients for your acquaintances of my own coming up.”
I grinned and let go of Jack’s hand. I headed back to my desk and Jack went into a meeting with some of the managers, to crow about his leads. I felt hot and cold all over; I had actually managed to put something in place to do what Micah wanted, and my mind reeled at the fact that it had been easier than I’d thought possible. I sat down at my desk and tried to get back into the groove of my usual routine, but it was hard for me to focus. I knew that since I’d been successful with Jack, that meant that I would have to meet with Micah soon. Part of me was thrilled at the idea of seeing Micah again, of bragging about how successful I’d been—and maybe, a quiet little part of my mind suggested, having another tryst with him. Another part of me was terrified at the prospect of meeting with the mob boss again.
I worked with half my mind on the tasks in front of me, trying to think of how the meeting would go. I would meet with him alone; I definitely didn’t think it would do much for my relationship with my brother to force him to watch me and Micah interacting—especially if Micah wanted to have sex with me again—after what he’d already heard. I knew Chris probably suspected something about the first thousand I’d managed to get knocked off of his debt; after all, I had to assume that Chris knew that he owed over and above the amount he’d told me, and it wasn’t like Micah was the type to pull punches on that score. What really gave me pause during the rest of my afternoon at work was the fact that I’d gotten a thrill out of propositioning Jack. I’d actually enjoyed the way he’d looked at me, shocked and intrigued, and the possibility of the bit of power I had. I was going to be getting a little bonus of my own at the end of the year—that much I was almost completely sure of.
By the time I left work for the day, I almost had to wonder: to what extent was I actually doing this for Chris, and to what extent was it something that—no matter what else—I might have been tempted to do all on my own?