Rex

Leaving Cindy’s office, my phone continues to buzz in my pocket. I fish it out of my pocket knowing that it’s most likely one of the three girls who have been harassing me the last few days. Jessica T is displaying on my screen. It’s time to put an end to this bullshit. “What’s up, Jessica?”

“You finally answered. I was beginning to think you were dead. Or do you just hate me?” she asks sounding very passive aggressive.

“Why would I hate you?” I ask, fearing that I might once I get to know her.

“People always say that I come on too strong, but when I see something I want I go after it. Can we grab a drink later?” I glance at my watch and it’s just past two. “I have an appointment at six. But I could go for a coffee now. Where can I meet you?”

“Really? Now? I’m at Pike’s picking up some seafood. Can you meet me at Starbucks?” she asks, immediately sounding much more pleasant. “Where are you?”

“I’m just leaving Dr. Farris’ office. So yeah, that’s a short drive. I’ll be there in fifteen.” I make the mistake of starting the Tesla and it immediately takes control of my phone in mid sentence. “Did you hear me?” I ask after a long pause.

“Did you guys talk about me?” she asks, completely ignoring the glitch in our conversation. “What did you tell her?”

“I told her we had a good time and that the sex was incredible,” I reply, wanting her to know that it really had been a positive experience for me. Not just something I said at the time. “I’ll see you at Starbucks in a few.” I click to end the call, wanting her to ruminate on the fact that I thought we had a great time together. Maybe she won’t act quite so obsessive if she knows that I’m cool with her. She’s got a lot going for her, but she really needs to lighten up a bit.

Parking the car and walking to the coffee shop, I stop to notice that I’m feeling just as anxious as I was this weekend when my phone kept ringing. I’ve dealt with all kinds of women in the past nine years, but something about Jessica bothers me. I’ve always been able to handle my clients with ease, but she makes it seem like I’m trying to wrangle a wild tiger. Visions of being attacked by a vicious beast dance through my mind as I open the door and walk inside. I spot her instantly, sitting at a table furiously typing something on her phone with an intense expression on her face. I pause momentarily, looking up at the menu, to give her time to finish.

“Fucking people,” she mutters, sliding her phone to the center of the table.

“What’s going on?” I ask, curious as to what has her so riled up.

“Oh, my god. I’m sorry you had to witness that.” She lunges from her chair and gives me a big hug. “The website launch has been a complete disaster,” she adds cringing. “Everything that could go wrong has gone horribly wrong. We’re out of stock on the best sellers and the rest of the crap isn’t selling at all. This is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

“I can only imagine,” I reply, rubbing her back to console her. “It’s got to be kind of hard to predict what people are going to buy. I’ve been kicking around the idea of selling stuff online, but I’m in no hurry to take the plunge.”

“If I were you, I would just keep selling that cute booty and nice package of yours,” she hisses. “You don’t have an open day for the rest of twenty sixteen. I fucking hate the fact that I have to outbid someone else to see you. Especially after all the money I’ve spent the past two years. I’m kinda freaking out.”

“Have you looked into drop shipping? My buddy tells me you don’t need to have inventory,” I offer, passing along what little I know about it. “He uses Shopify and Alibaba to set up stores.”

“Now is not the time to tell me this shit.” She squeezes her eyelids shut as if she’s trying to squelch her emotions. “I have over quarter million in inventory and spent another fifty grand on the launch. What do I have to show for it? About twenty grand in total sales, most of which happened in the first two days.”

“Aren’t your Instagram followers buying anything?” I ask, even though I know I should probably just drop it. “You have a huge following.”

“Yeah, well they obviously like when I trash celebrities, but they don’t like my higher end merchandise nearly as much. The only thing selling is the Celebitchy T-shirts and I don’t make shit on them,” she seethes. “I should’ve followed my mother’s advise.”

“What’s that?” I ask, having heard that her mother was a very conniving woman.

“Nothing is certain in business, except fucking a successful businessman.” She slips her fingers into my belt loops and pulls me toward her. “Unfortunately, mine charges me an arm and a leg.” She stares at me with cold dark eyes.

“That’s my business,” I reply, laughing it off. I slip my arms around her and give her a quick hug. “I’m sure everything will work out. It might just take a little longer than you expected. Celebitchy, that’s funny.”

“That’s the name I thought up when I rebranded my social media presence.” Her glare softens and her head turns to the side. “That marketing consultant really took me for a ride. I came up with all the ideas and he was supposed to help me get things going. Now the fucker won’t return my calls.”

“Do you want a coffee?” I ask, wanting to turn the conversation before she inquires about my buddy. He would kill me if I gave his name to someone like Jessica. “I need a caffeine boost.”

“I should probably have an herbal tea or something. I’ve taken two Adderall’s already, so if I get any more jacked up I’ll probably strangle someone before the day is over.” She giggles in a sinister way that has me sort of believing it might happen.

“Herbal tea it is. Any preference?”

“Something raspberry,” she says with a wave of her hand, going back to her phone. “Unfuckingbelievable,” she says again just as I turn to go up and place our order. I purposely keep my eyes focused on the cashier, but I can see her fussing out of the corner of my eye. If she’s taking a bunch of Adderall, that would explain her erratic behavior. She’s so damn intense, kind of like she’s going to jump out of her skin at any moment.

My phone buzzes so I turn it in my hand to glance at the screen. It’s a text message from Jessica telling me she misses me. Good lord. What have I gotten myself into? I begin formulating what I have to tell her. I have to make it clear that she’s my client and we are in a therapy based relationship. I’m not a boyfriend or plaything that is going to be at her beck and call. I know it’s not something that she wants to hear, but honestly I have no choice. Like she said, I’m fully booked through the end of the year. I don’t have time to put up with constant bullshit from a couple of my clients. At the same time, it’s obvious that I’m going to have to handle her with kid gloves. I return to the table with our drinks and set them down, ready to set the record straight.

“Sammy says hello,” she says curtly, keeping her eyes glued to her phone.

“How do you know her?” I ask, feeling a bit queasier.

“I just met her online the other day. We were chatting about how easily you walk all over our hearts.” She continues to text without looking up at me. She’s so damn passive aggressive. It reinforces my thoughts that I have to put an end to this bullshit.

“One thing I learned early on in this business is that it’s crucial for me to be able to compartmentalize. If I let my emotions come into play, everything would get all fucked up,” I explain while she continues to focus on her phone. “That’s why I don’t take personal calls from clients.” It’s actually a rule that I only enforce on those who abuse my time. Normally if a client calls it’s because of a change in their schedule or where they would like me to pick them up. The ones who try to take advantage get sent to voicemail and have to leave messages which I return promptly.

“It really makes me angry when someone screens my call.” Her steely glare moves from her phone to me, making me think I liked it better when she was focused on her phone.

“It’s my business phone.” I decide to fib. “I never even look at when I’m with a client. I’ve missed two calls in the short time I’ve been here with you. If they leave a message, I’ll get back to them. Otherwise, I’ll assume it wasn’t important. It’s the only way things work. I literally have hundreds of clients.”

“Wow. Hundreds. That makes me feel real special.” She turns back to her phone and begins typing again. “So, Friday night was all about the money. I’m just having a hard time rectifying that in my mind. You really had me snowed. But then, I guess you do that to hundreds of women. That’s why you’re booked well into next year.”

“Honestly, Friday night was amazing, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m a sex surrogate and you’re my client. I can’t get involved with clients on a personal level,” I reiterate, hoping to get my point across one way or another. I sit back, taking a sip of my coffee. I want her to be the next one to speak so I can get a handle on whether or not she’s getting what I’m trying to tell her. She stubbornly remains focused on her phone.

“There,” she finally says after a solid two minutes of silence, which is a lot for her. “I just outbid your other clients for seven dates between now and the end of October. In actuality, this is probably the best type of relationship for me anyway. I get my brains fucked out and then I can just send you packing. No niceties and no pretending I’m some soft, loveable female. Because obviously I’m not.”

“Great. I wasn’t sure you were listening. I’ll do my best to rock your world all seven nights. Just let me know where you want to go and what you would like to do,” I tell her, wanting it to be a fun experience for her.

“The first one is Saturday night. I want to go to the Metropolitan Grill and then I want to take you back to my place and ride you like rented mule, as my mom used to say.” A smile finally breaking across her lips.

“Used to? Is she gone?”

“No. I just don’t talk to her much anymore. Can I tie you to the bed?” she asks, with a sinister giggle.

“We’ll see.” My mind once again flashes back to Kathy Bates in Misery. I honestly regret ever seeing that movie. “Maybe I’ll let you tie me up with scarves or something. No handcuffs or nylon rope. I’m not into any of that BDSM shit, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“No. I just like the idea of having complete control over you and fucking you until my hips are burning.” She smiles again, knowing just how crude she sounded. I’ve heard that some women have fairly high testosterone levels and I think she might be one of them. Sometimes she talks just like one of my buddies, which I found incredibly attractive in the beginning. Now, I’m not so sure.

“I’ll gladly let you fuck me until your hips hurt,” I lean in and whisper into her ear. “You don’t have to tie me up for that. I love it when a woman takes control.” I give her a little kiss on the lips, before standing up and checking the time. “I’ve got to run, but I’ll see you Saturday night. Just let me know what time I should pick you up.”

“Four-thirty,” she replies without hesitation. “I had to pay fifteen hundred for that one, so I want my money’s worth.”

“I’ll see you do.” I lean down giving her another kiss, wanting to leave on good terms. “I appreciate the fact that you want to spend time with me. I really did think you were incredible last time. That’s not something I say lightly.”

“Thanks,” she says, a look of sadness coming into her eyes. I grab my cup and leave her with a sad smile of my own. Every fiber of my being is aware that I’m playing with fire on this one, but I also know it’s too late just to walk away. I didn’t want to get into how she connected with Sammy, but I’m sure it was through Instagram or something. I’m fully aware of how much trouble this woman will be if I don’t keep her happy and I just spent down my cash on a new car. I should probably return it, but I’m sure I would take an immediate twenty grand hit or more. I’ll just have to do my best to walk the line and keep her happy. It’s obvious that no one else has ever fucked her the way I did. I’ll just have to do it seven more times and see how things play out from there.