Sapphire Beautiful Page 2

  Quickly unlocking the front door I just about make it inside before tears begin streaming down my face.

  Doug and I put everything we had into customizing the townhouse. We turned the dining room into a large library with floor to ceiling bookshelves. And we replaced all of the old carpeting with cherry hardwood floors. We updated the fireplace in the living room to give it a more modern feel and we invested in all new solid cherry wood furniture that stretched our budget, but was too attractive to pass up.

  I have to do whatever it takes to save my house, I tell myself. I’ve lost too much already. I can’t lose my home too.

  I run upstairs to my bedroom. After changing into a t-shirt and shorts I plop down on my bed with my cellphone.

  I briefly consider doing a Google search for The Club, but decide it’s pointless. A service that teeters on the edge of prostitution probably tries to stay hidden not advertise.

  I start dialing different combinations for the final two digits I’m still missing from the phone number for The Club.

  After an hour with no luck I rise from the bed and stretch.

  Then I take a long look at myself in the mirror above my dresser. I keep my thick, dark, shoulder-length hair in a style that frames my hopefully still youthful face. My chocolate brown eyes have only the slightest of wrinkles around the edges when I smile. I may be in my thirties, but I think I still look decent. I definitely don’t look like a co-ed anymore. What happens if The Club won’t hire me because I’m too old? What if the rich, old horny guys only want young college girls to screw around with?

  Would a guy actually pay to have sex with me?

  I need the money and I don’t have any other options. Even if I could get another part-time job it probably wouldn’t pay enough to get me out of the deep financial hole Doug left me in. And I wouldn’t get my first paycheck for a few weeks.

  I could be homeless by then.

  I grab my cellphone and start dialing more combinations of numbers. It takes about fifteen more tries before I finally hit what I think might be The Club. It’s not easy to tell because the person at the other end of the line doesn’t say anything.

  “Is this The Club?” I ask tentatively.

  “Who referred you?” the raspy female voice says.

  I clear my throat. I wasn’t actually referred by anyone, so I’m going to have to lie. Something I’ve never been very good at. “Sydney.”

  There’s a long moment of silence. I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I may have blown it.

  “What’s your name?” the voice asks.

  “Mary.”

  “Is this the number where you’d like to be reached?”

  “Yes.”

  It takes me a few moments to realize that the woman at the other end of the line has hung up.

  What happens if she calls Sydney to ask about me? My stomach knots. I guess I was so desperate that I didn’t think the entire thing through.

  A few seconds later my phone rings.

  “How do you know Sydney?” another female voice asks when I answer the call. This woman’s voice is deeper and she sounds older.

  “School,” I reply. I know it’s a vague response, but vague seems to be a safer option when you’re lying through your teeth.

  “Tomorrow at three. Don’t be late. Write down the address.” She quickly recites an address, which I recognize as other side of town. It’s right down the street from the very expensive lawyer I consulted after Doug’s death. His price was beyond my budget. Ultimately I ended up with a paralegal service the university recommended.

  And that’s it. Dead air. She didn’t even give me a chance to respond.

  Two

  Misty follows me as I head toward my office. I promised that I’d see her during my office hours, but that was before my appointment with The Club. And Claudia told me not to be late.

  “I’m sorry I only have about twenty minutes, Misty.” I unlock my office door and we both enter. “I have to make it to another appointment across town.”

  My office is small, not much bigger than a clothes closet, and it’s covered floor to ceiling with bookshelves. There’s barely room for my small desk and two chairs.

  “Are you okay?” she asks as we both sit down.

  “Why would you ask that?”

  She glances down at her feet. “You seem really anxious.”

  I take in a deep breath. I don’t make it a habit to talk about my personal life with my students. “I have a lot on my plate right now.”

  “I heard about everything that happened. With Dr. Pine. The other Dr. Pine. Your husband.”

  I nod. “What questions do you have for me?”

  She removes the legal pad from her backpack and hands it to me. I quickly skim the long list. It could easily take me an entire semester to answer all of her questions.

  “I can tell you’re eager to learn as much as you can about medieval history and culture. I promise you that we’ll be covering all of these questions throughout the semester. But if you just can’t wait, I’ll give you one point of extra credit for every question you find the answer to on your own.”

  Her eyes completely light up. “Seriously? You’ll give me extra credit?”

  I nod and hand her back her notepad. “It’ll take a lot of work, but if you want to put in the time, I’ll give you the credit for it.”

  “That’s fantastic! Thank you so much.”

  I glance at my watch. “I don’t mean to cut our meeting short...”

  She rises. “I know. You have an appointment. I hope everything’s okay.”

  “Me too,” I tell her.

  ***

  I’m out of breath as I dash into the front entrance of The Club right at three o’clock. The public transportation gods must have been smiling down on me today because I didn’t think I was going to make it on time.

  “I’m—here—to—see—Claudia,” I gasp.

  The young woman at the front desk looks like she just stepped out of a fashion magazine. I’m thin, but this woman looks almost anorexic.

  The Club is in an upscale part of the city surrounded by offices filled with high priced attorneys and financial advisors. The exterior of the small building is nondescript and blends in with the neighboring buildings. If you didn’t know exactly what you were looking for you’d probably just ignore it.

  Inside, The Club is much more dramatic. Everything is dark wood and feels heavy. It definitely exudes an atmosphere of old money and refinement.

  When the fashion model at the front desk finally looks at me I can tell by the sneer on her perfect face that she’s not impressed with what she sees.

  Professors aren’t known for being fashion plates. The only thing in my closet that seemed appropriate for an interview was the black suit I wore when I defended my dissertation. I also wore it when I interviewed for faculty positions. The suit is definitely not sexy. It’s a suit that says take me seriously as a scholar. It definitely doesn’t say fuck me.

  “You are?” She arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

  I clear my throat. “Mary. I have an appointment. Three o’clock.”

  She looks me up and down. “Are you sure?”

  I stare at her defiantly. After successfully defending a doctoral dissertation in front of a committee of hypercritical Ph.D.s it’s extremely difficult to intimidate me. Miss I-Just-Stepped-Off-The-Runway doesn’t intimidate me in the least.

  “Follow me.” She turns on her very high heels and heads down a vast hallway. Her stride is so long I nearly have to sprint to keep up with her.

  “You can go in,” she tells me when we reach the office at the very end of the hallway. “Claudia is expecting you.”

  She doesn’t wait for me to respond. She turns and hurries away.

  I swallow, but my throat is quickly closing. I feel like I could pass out at any moment. Taking in a deep breath I do my best to compose myself.

  “Get a grip,” I tell myself. “You need the money.”<
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  When I open the door I’m taken aback to see the office is completely white. It’s in sharp contrast to the dark feel of rest of The Club.

  “Have a seat.” Claudia demands.

  I take back what I said about no longer being intimidated by anyone. Claudia is scary as hell.

  I quickly take the only other seat in the room opposite her massive metal desk. The furniture probably appears larger than it actually is because it’s completely bare. No computer, no phone, not even a calendar. I assume in a profession like hers it’s a liability to write things down.

  She eyes me for what feels like forever before she speaks again.

  “Thirty-two.” That’s all she says. Then she stares at me again.

  I’m not sure what to do so I just mumble a barely audible, “Okay.”

  “You’re thirty-two,” she repeats as if I’m the most stupid person on the planet.

  “How did you know?”

  She glares at me. I guess I’m not supposed to ask questions. Then she says, “You’re a lot older than the girls we usually hire.”

  I nod because I don’t want to be on the receiving end of another one of her icy glares.

  “Most of my clients want college girls in their early twenties.”

  I take in a deep breath and prepare myself for the inevitable rejection. As a college professor I’m considered young with my whole career ahead of me. It’s hard for me to fathom a profession in which you’re completely washed up by the time you’re twenty-five.

  If you can actually call being a paid mistress a profession.

  I expect Claudia to kick me out and tell me to never come back, but to my surprise she removes a thin file from her top desk drawer and places it on her desk.

  Pointing to it she says, “I have a special case that you may be right for.”

  A glimmer of hope.

  “This is a unique situation,” she continues. “He’s already interviewed two of my girls and unfortunately they both declined an arrangement. He’s getting a bit anxious to find someone, so this time he’d like a contract signed before you meet him.”

  I swallow, hard, as I wonder what could possibly be wrong with the guy for two girls to decline him.

  “He will be your only offer for an arrangement.” Claudia pushes the file towards me. “With so many much younger girls to choose from the likelihood that anyone else would select you is slim.”

  My mind races with all of the possible reasons this man could have been rejected. Is he ancient? Does he have personal hygiene issues? Is it some kind of physical deformity? Maybe all of the above?

  My chest tightens. This is someone I’m going to have to have sex with. A lot. How far am I willing to go for the money?

  You want to keep your house, I tell myself. This is probably your only option.

  When Claudia thumps her index finger on the desk expectantly I know she’s waiting for me to make a decision.

  “Okay,” I try not to sound as uncertain about it as I feel.

  “He did not request a photo. He gave me certain parameters for the type of girl he likes and you fit the bill. He was extremely disappointed that the two women he chose didn’t work out so he’s leaving this selection to my discretion.”

  I know I should be grateful that I’m getting any arrangement at all, but I can’t help but feel like the last girl asked to the prom.

  Claudia opens the file. It looks like a contract. “You’ll need to sign this document. It gives me permission to share your information with Mr. McNally. We do a complete background check as well as a full medical examination. I’ll need your driver’s license and Social Security numbers.”

  She opens her top drawer again, removes a sleek black pen and hands it to me.

  I gulp. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I need the money and I need it fast. I lift up the pen and fill in my personal information. Then I sign my name to the contract.

  Claudia’s face contorts in what I can only assume is her version of a smile.

  “Will I get a copy of these documents?”

  “You can ask Mr. McNally about that.”

  That seems a bit odd until I realize that I didn’t see a photocopy machine anywhere.

  She reaches into her desk and pulls out a small card which she slides across the desk. “This is an account set up for your arrangement. It’s our version of PayPal. Memorize the account number and log-in information then destroy the card. As soon as Mr. McNally places money into the account it’s yours to keep. He will no longer have access to it. And you’re free to leave it there or transfer it into another account of your choice.

  “He’s already placed your first payment into the account. Quite generous, I might add, but I’m sure he’ll expect you to be equally generous in return. He’s anticipating an exclusive arrangement. That means no other men while you’re under contract.” She looks up at me. “And just so we’re clear, the exclusivity does not extend to him.”

  I immediately think about my husband. It sounds like his idea of exclusivity too. I just didn’t know it. I remained faithful while he was with as many co-eds as he had time to screw.

  I remind myself that this arrangement is a financial and not an emotional one. I’ll be exchanging access to my body for money. That doesn’t mean I have to give him access to my mind or heart.

  “I assume you use birth control.”

  When I shake my head she looks puzzled. This isn’t something I like to talk about, but I can tell by the disgusted expression on her face that it’s going to be necessary to discuss.

  “We like to pride ourselves on providing a safe environment for our clients. One in which unwanted pregnancy is never an issue.”

  “I have some medical issues.” I explain. “I can’t use oral birth control methods. But I’m not able to have children either.”

  Her gaze narrows as she seems to consider what I’ve just shared.

  “I’ve been sexually active for fifteen years,” I tell her. “I’ve never been pregnant and I’ve never been on the pill.”

  “We normally require all of our girls to use birth control. Provide documentation from your personal physician to our staff physician so he can approve an exemption. We’ll also need to provide Mr. McNally with documentation that you’re disease free.”

  She slides another card across the table. “This is the address for our staff physician. He’s extremely discreet. All of your test results will come directly to me and I’ll make sure they get to Mr. McNally. I’ve already scheduled an appointment for you in one hour. Mr. McNally is quite anxious to meet you and begin your arrangement.”

  When she stares at me it takes me a moment to realize I’ve been dismissed. Rising from the chair I feel a little dizzy. I’m actually going through with his. I’m actually going to have sex with a man I don’t know in exchange for money. I worked so hard most of my adult life to make sure I could use my mind and intellect to earn a living. Now I’m probably going to make just as much selling my body as I do using my brain as a college professor.

  ***

  “You’re more mature than most of the women Claudia refers to our office.” Dr. Wilson has thick hair and his forehead has permanent worry lines. If I had to guess I’d say he was in his mid-fifties.

  “And by mature you mean old.”

  He doesn’t reply. Not even a change of expression. He seems to be all business.

  Physicians have always made me nervous. Even when I was a kid I’d beg my mother not to make me go for my yearly check-ups. Their offices have always felt like cold and sterile places. Dr. Wilson’s office is no exception.

  I pull the ridiculously small paper hospital gown closer in a futile attempt to feel warmer.

  “Claudia mentioned that you’re unable to conceive.” He stares at me expectantly.

  “I—um—have a congenital uterine anomaly. I also have hormonal issues. My physician told me the risk of serious side effects from the use of oral contraceptives was higher than my chances of get
ting pregnant, so he recommended not using them.”

  He raises a bushy eyebrow. “And you signed a release form so I can have access to those records?”

  I nod. His receptionist had me sign what seemed like a mountain of paperwork when I arrived.

  “You’ve already given urine and blood samples.” He snaps on a pair of latex gloves. “I’m also going to give you a brief physical examination. If you would lie back and place your feet in the stirrups for me.”

  He motions for the nurse who had been observing from the sidelines to step in closer for the examination.

  I take in a deep breath and hold it for as long as I can while he pokes around my private parts.

  “Just try to relax,” he urges. Easy for him to say. He’s not the one who’s being invaded with a speculum. He’s the one who’s doing the invading.

  I try to think of anything else except the two pairs of eyes now inspecting my vagina.

  “Okay,” Dr. Wilson says as he removes his probing device. “That’s all we need. You can get dressed now.”

  ***

  The moment I get home I log into the account Claudia mentioned. My eyes go wide when I see the amount that’s already placed in there. It’s a lot more than the five thousand dollars I was expecting.

  He’s already given me ten thousand dollars.

  My heart pounds when I think about the implications of that much money. Claudia already told me he was turned down by two girls. That amount of money could mean that there’s something so disturbing about him that he needs to pay more just so I won’t reject him as well.

  Claudia said he was generous. She also said that I should be generous in return. Ten thousand dollars buys a lot of generosity. My stomach knots thinking about the things he might ask me to do for that kind of money. There are a lot of very kinky people in the world.

  Not that I have too much of a choice. I already signed the contract and took the money. It’s not like I can say no now.

  And it’s enough money for me to get completely caught up on the delinquent mortgage payments.

  I quickly transfer the money to my bank. My two figure checking account is miraculously transformed into a five figure one.