Paradise

PARADISE

“Very simply put, we offer the finest oral, vaginal, and anal sex in the world.”

My mouth dropped open as I stared at her. She didn’t blink. She didn’t grin. She was profoundly serious. She had made what she believed was a statement of absolute fact in answer to my question. I closed my mouth and swallowed the saliva that had accumulated in it as I pondered the possibilities of the transaction that I was considering. I couldn’t help glancing again at the large notebook which she had set on the small table in front of me. It contained a portfolio of the women available to provide the remarkable services she had described.

“All of our agents have been trained in various erotic techniques solely for the purpose of maximizing the sensual pleasure of our clientele. Obviously, because of the time and money we have invested in them, they are required to work exclusively for our agency. But, perfection demands a high price.”

She crossed her right leg over her left, her skirt rising a few inches above her knee. She reached forward, and grasped the cover of the notebook between the perfectly manicured index finger and thumb of her left hand. “Would you like to review our portfolio? All of our agents have included personal profiles which describe particular personality traits and special talents which they possess.”

My heart was racing at the prospect of seeing the profiles. It hadn’t occurred to me in the ten days that it had taken to get this far that I would be so excited by merely looking at a notebook.

I’d been having lunch with Matt Gilmore who was trying to convince me that I should retain his company to create our materials distribution software program. We’d known each other for several years, although our contacts had been more business than social in nature. Matt is around my age, just past forty, average in looks and build, and had always seemed like the typical, upstanding businessman.

Like me, Matt had been married for twenty years or so; had kids, a suburban Chicago home, and seemed relatively satisfied with his life. I had already decided that I would go with his proposal for the software and was pretty sure that he knew that. Therefore, our conversation had rambled to the typical topics of cars, sports, and eventually, when he commented on the stunning legs of our waitress, sex.

“Yes,” I agreed, watching the young waitress walk away from our table, her hips swinging provocatively, “very, very nice.”

He sighed deeply, and I could see that his thoughts had briefly wandered far away someplace. “Mmmmm. Might be time for another vacation,” he commented, taking a drink from his beer mug and returning his eyes to me.

“Yeah? Where’re you going?”

“Paradise.”

I took a bite of my sandwich and waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, I pushed the subject. “The Bahamas? Virgin Islands?”

“No. Much closer to home than that.” He peered discretely to either side of our table and leaned toward me a few inches. “Have you ever..,” he paused momentarily, as if deciding whether to continue, “wanted a little variety in your life?”

It was obvious he was referring to women. Assuming there was no real harm in a little man-to-man confession I responded, “Sure. Who hasn’t?”

“Have you ever had any?”

“Variety, you mean?” When he nodded, I continued. “No. Kind of difficult. Also, kind of dangerous.” I stuffed French fries into my mouth and elaborated as I chewed. “With my luck, I’d end up in one of those nightmarish situations like in the movies. Besides, who has the time to do it?”

Matt smiled as if he knew the solution to a difficult mathematical equation. “That’s how I felt about it, too. But, it’s really a matter of money, not time.”

“Well, that too, I guess.”

“No,” he said shaking his head thoughtfully, “I mean paying for it.”

I lowered my head slightly and furrowed my brow at him, showing disapproval at his suggestion. I would never have expected such a comment from him.

“Paying for paradise,” he explained, his eyes open wide.

“You’re kidding.” I poured a mound of ketchup onto my plate and dipped two fries it, not taking my eyes off of him. “That’s just not real smart, Matt.”

He leaned a little closer to me and lowered his voice. “I don’t mean street walkers or the escort services in the phone book. That is pretty stupid.”

He had finished his lunch and pushed his plate off to the corner of the table, giving him room to lean on his elbows even closer toward me. “Two years ago I got a big contract with…well the company doesn’t really matter. Anyway, I went out drinking one night with the vice president of programming. He was getting pretty bombed and started raving about the incredible night he’d spent with this girl that another software company had arranged for him to meet in a hotel room hoping that he would buy from their company.

He showed me the business card that the girl gave him and ended up so drunk that he left it on the bar when he staggered out to his car. I picked it up when he left and stuck it in my coat pocket. I didn’t even think about it for a month or so, until one day I reached into my pocket and found it again.”

I finished the last of my food and leaned back in my chair. Matt’s eyes were becoming wider and brighter, almost gleaming as he continued his story. I smiled wryly at him. “So, you’re going to fix me up with a hooker to try to get my business, huh?” I jested.

“Not hardly. I’m giving you the best deal you can get, and you know it. Besides, I don’t work that way.”

“Good, because I wouldn’t do it.”

“The card just had the girl’s name on it, Cindy, and a phone number. I’d just landed a big account that I’d been chasing for several weeks and felt really good, so I called the number. I talked to a woman with a real sexy voice for quite a while, just chatting, until she asked me how I’d gotten the number. She could have been anybody, you know? She wouldn’t say a whole lot unless I gave her the name of the guy I’d gotten the card from. Man, that was scary. But, I did. They don’t advertise. They only take clients who are referred from previous customers. She said that if I was interested in talking more, I’d have to pass their screening.”

“Screening?”

“Yeah. It took about a week. I don’t need to go into that. Anyway, it was sort of exciting just finding out what it was all about.”

“So, did you see Cindy?” I asked, amazed by his confession.

Matt snorted through his nose. “Hell, no. I saw her picture though. She’s not my type. But, the other women I have seen are utterly unbelievable.”

I was shocked. “You’ve done this more than once?” I must have sounded absolutely dumbfounded to Matt. He raised his eyebrows and glared at me defensively.

“Wes,” he was shaking his head slowly back and forth, “you just wouldn’t believe it.”

The waitress returned to our table and cleared the dirty dishes. In response to her inquiry, we told her that we were through and wanted our check. I noticed again how attractive she was, particularly her shapely legs.

“Yes, indeed,” I commented. “That is one nice lady.”

“Her?” Matt jerked his head toward the young beauty as she retreated. “She’s not even in the same league as the women I’m talking about.”

I tilted my head to one side and studied Matt’s face as he downed the last of his beer. I had never had anyone admit to me before that they had done what Matt had. He set his mug down, took his wallet out of his pocket, and threw a wad of money on the table.

“Paradise, man. I’m not kidding. I’ve done it about every four or five months. I can’t afford to do it more often. But, if I could, I certainly would.”

“You’ve got to be crazy, Matt. How do you know one of those prostitutes isn’t going to smack you over the head and rob you? Or worse, threaten to blackmail you?”

“Well, Wes, I guess you’d have to enjoy it to understand. Prostitute is last word I’d use to describe any of the women I’ve been with.”

My discussion with Matt haunted me for the next several weeks. I found myself gawking at beautiful women on the sidewalks, in stores, everywhere; wondering whether they were in the same “league” with the women Matt had paid for. I wondered whether it would be worth the risk and money to appease my ego with such a gorgeous creature.

Eventually, I telephoned Matt at his office and asked him for more information. He gave me the number and told me that I could say that he had referred me. The one thing I needed to do, he said, was be patient. Once I was in, it would be worth it.

It took me another two days to get up enough nerve to call. I waited until everyone else in my office had gone. My hands were trembling as I dialed the number.

“Hello?” The female voice sounded mature, sexy, and confident. My voice cracked as I responded with the same greeting.

“How are you today?”

“I’m, ah, fine, thank you. A friend of mine gave me this number and suggested that I call.”

“That’s nice. Who is your friend?” I told her. “Oh, Matt is such a darling. Is he well?”

“Well? Ah, yes, certainly.”

“Good. Tell me about yourself.”

This seemed odd. I had been prepared to ask her about her agency, and she had completely thrown me for a loop. I gave her my age, described my appearance, and gave her a vague description of what I do for a living. Intermittently she would make a comment or unintelligible sound of approval as I spoke to her.

Finally, I told her, “I’d like to know more about your service.”

“Excellent.” She sounded as if I had offered her a winning lottery ticket. “Are you free tomorrow evening at six?”

Wow, I thought. That was quick.

“Well, I’m not sure I actually want to…”

“Please,” she interrupted me. “I’m just suggesting that we meet in person to continue our discussion. You’re certainly under no obligation.”

“Oh,” I said, assuming this was the first step of the screening process. “Tomorrow at six, sure.”

That started the journey that ultimately ended in anxiously anticipating the opening of the notebook. The next day after work I met a woman who identified herself as Elaine at a very nice suburban restaurant. I was somewhat disappointed. She was probably in her early forties, quite attractive for her age, very professional in her manner and dress, but not at all what I had expected. As we talked, she wrote notes on a small pad she had taken from her purse. She didn’t ask me anything too personal, but her inquiries still seemed a bit invasive.

She asked about my hobbies, about my major in college, about my favorite foods – innocuous things like that. Never once did she touch on my income, my job, or my family life. Nothing in our discussion could have been considered remotely associated with sex.

Each time I tried to pose a question about the agency, or the women I might see if I became a client, she would very graciously steer the conversation back to me by explaining that, if everything worked out, all my questions would be answered. After chatting for nearly an hour, she put her pad in her purse, arose from her chair, and offered me her hand.

“I think I have everything I need. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”

“Well, thank you,” I responded, as I allowed her to gently grasp my hand. I was somewhat flabbergasted that I had learned absolutely nothing about what I was getting myself into. It also struck me that I had actually said very little which could be screened. “What happens next?”

“I’ll be in touch with you; probably in the next few days.” She smiled cordially as she slipped her coat over her shoulders. “Goodbye, Wes.” She turned and walked out of the restaurant.

As soon as she had gone out the door, I wanted to run after her. How would she get in touch with me, I wondered? I hadn’t given her a phone number to call. In fact, she knew my name, and I hadn’t told her what it was.

Over the next week I ran my conversation with Elaine through my head repeatedly. I had come to the conclusion that something I had said or done, or something about me, had disqualified me right from the start. It was a blow to my ego, almost like not getting a job fore which I’d applied. To think that there was something about me that would cause prostitutes to reject me had certainly affected my self-esteem.

Several times I thought about telephoning Matt to ask him if the screening should take this long, but didn’t want to embarrass myself. If he ever brought it up again, I could just tell him that I didn’t call the number he’d given me. Unless, of course, Elaine had asked him about me before my interview.

Three days later, I had pretty much put the whole thing out of my mind. In fact, I felt silly for having called Matt in the first place. What could be more stupid than taking a risk that could screw up my life for good?

At about six o’clock I was sitting at my desk finishing up some work before heading home when my cell phone rang. I assumed that it was my wife calling to ask me to pick something up from the store.

“Hello?” I said cheerfully.

“Hello, Wes.” It was Elaine’s voice. “I hope you’re well.”

“Yes, I am.” My palms became wet with sweat immediately.

“Whenever you’d like to utilize our service, please feel free to give me a call to arrange an appointment.”

There was a lump in my throat. The sound of her voice had completely changed my attitude. “Well, ah,” I stuttered, trying not to sound too impatient, “anytime.”

“I’m available to meet with you this evening.”

“For..?” I inquired.

“To answer your questions and give you the opportunity to review our agents and make your choice.”

“Oh. Great.” I was relieved. Having no excuse not to be home within the next half hour, I arranged an appointment at Elaine’s office the next morning.

It was in a newly constructed stone and glass building conveniently located just off the freeway. The directory in the lobby listed a variety of professional offices, including accountants and employment recruiters. On the second floor the small sign next to the door displayed EDT Planning.

When I opened the door, a pleasant chime began automatically. I entered a small reception area elegantly furnished with comfortable chairs and decorated with very expensive-looking framed oil paintings. I didn’t have time to sit before Elaine opened the inner door and greeted me. She led me into a large office, just as elegantly furnished as the reception area.

“It’s good to see you again,” she told me with a smile, indicating that I should have a seat on a large, tufted, red leather couch. I declined her offer of something to drink, and she sat down next to me. “We’re always delighted to welcome new clients. If you ever have a special request or a question about our services, feel free to call me. Of course, every effort must be made to maintain the strictest confidentiality. So, please arrange an appointment before coming to this office.”

“Of course.” That all made sense. It could be ticklish meeting your next door neighbor in the hallway outside. “What is EDT Planning?”

She smiled sweetly and fluttered her eyelashes. “I’m a licensed financial consultant. I handle most of the investment accounts for our agents as well as several of our customers. If you’re ever interested in relocating your investments, I’d be glad to discuss new strategies with you.”

I was amazed. I guess I shouldn’t have been. After all, Elaine appeared to be a very competent individual.

“I’m not sure how much Matt told you about us. Our rates are based upon time and the number of agents with whom you wish to spend it. Our minimum encounter is two hours. The maximum is up to you. Interludes of more than eight hours will require at least three days advance arrangements. Also, if travel is involved we expect you to furnish transportation, lodging, and meals. Did you have an idea of the length of encounter you’d like?”

“Ah, the minimum to start with, I suppose.”

“That’s usually what our new clients prefer. Why don’t you let me show you the portfolio of agents who are currently available?”

That’s when my attention was first drawn to the notebook on the table in front of us. From what I had seen of her office there was nothing in it other than that notebook, presumably, which would give any indication that it wasn’t the work place of a successful financial advisor.

“Our minimum fee is one thousand dollars, payable in advance, in cash,” she stated as she reached for the notebook.

Matt had mentioned that it would be expensive, but that amount of money for two hours seemed astronomical. “For what?” I blurted out involuntarily.

My question prompted the answer, more like a promise, that had made my mouth drop open in disbelief: “The finest oral, vaginal, and anal sex in the world.”

My heart rate was easily over one hundred per minute when she opened the notebook. The first of the pages was a color photograph, obviously professionally produced, of a stunning blonde in a red evening gown. Her name, Lori, was emblazoned across the top in red and gold letters. The quality of the page easily equaled that of an advertisement in a fashion magazine.

“Lori is twenty-six. She’s been with us for nearly four years now.” Elaine turned to the next page, which was a photograph of the blonde in a very small bikini on a tropical beach. She was absolutely mouthwatering. “She would be an excellent choice for your first encounter.”

She turned another page and I saw a full face shot of one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. Near the bottom of the picture was what Elaine must have characterized as a personal profile, apparently in Lori’s own handwriting: “To fully enjoy the erotic adventures I can give you, let me take control. But, if you’d rather to take the lead, I’ll follow you anywhere you want to go.” `Anywhere’ was underlined.

“Wow.” I said, almost under my breath. “Can I look back at the previous page?”

“I’m sure you’ll want to review all of our agents.” She immediately turned to the next page.

I was dumbfounded. In all, there were fourteen ravishingly gorgeous women in the portfolio of different ages, races, and sizes. The overriding constant was that each one was virtually perfect in physical appearance. However, the pictures revealed no more than you would see in a bathing suit or lingerie catalog. The astounding thing was that the women were not in the typical promiscuous poses you would see in men’s magazines. The suggestions of sexual delights, however, flowed like rivers from the personal profiles.

The array of feminine perfection I had seen had captivated me. Half way through the notebook I sensed a pleasant tingling in my scrotum. I fought back an erection, but could feel that seminal fluid was trickling out of me, my body ostensibly preparing for sexual activity.

Near the end of the portfolio, I saw pictures of Cindy. She was a luscious brunette with large, round breasts and voluptuous hips. Although I would have been overjoyed with her, I agreed with Matt that many of the other choices were more attractive.

“Well,” Elaine asked, “did you find anyone you’d like to spend time with?”

I looked at her and smiled.