With a newfound sense of purpose, I rise from the tub, suddenly feeling silly for questioning myself. I don’t want to miss my only shot at getting actual help. This arrangement with the Gentleman Mentor—whoever he is—may be unconventional, but it might be just the thing I need to help move me from friend zone to girlfriend material where Kirby is concerned. And I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that e-mailing back and forth with my mentor has me feeling intrigued and slightly turned on.
Tossing on my cotton robe, I head for my laptop and open my e-mail. Glancing at his last message, I recall that he’s asked what I’m most scared of, along with my schedule. I fidget for a few minutes before typing out a hasty response, leaving out the part I don’t know how to answer.
Gentleman Mentor,
I would prefer to meet on Thursday. I’m supposed to go to my parents’ house on Sunday, and if I have to miss it, I don’t want my mom asking why. ;)
But can I ask you something? Has a woman ever backed out after meeting you in person?
—Bookworm92
Bookworm92,
Thursday would be fine. And no, a woman has never backed out after meeting me.
—X
I read his message with a growing sense of comfort. That’s good to know. Perhaps it’s simple curiosity because I have no idea what he looks like, but I’m afraid that he’s unattractive. I haven’t seen a picture after all. I know it’s terribly shallow, but I couldn’t go through with it if I’m not attracted to him.
Another thought flits through my brain and my nerves are back. My next e-mail flies from my fingers.
Have you ever refused services after meeting a woman?
His reply comes right away.
Bookworm92,
Yes, twice.
—X
I read his message and worry that he could refuse me if he doesn’t like what he sees. It’s not a comforting thought. I chew on my lip, unsure what to write back next when another message comes through. It’s as if he knows I’m hesitating and takes the decision from my hands.
Bookworm92,
We will meet Thursday at 8 p.m. at the Dakota. You will order one drink and wait for me at the bar. Dress in all black, wear something sexy, and underneath, your panties and bra will be red.
—X
Chapter Two
Brielle
“You’ll call me the second you’re done, right?” my best friend, Julie, pleads through the phone.
“I’ll call you,” I promise for the seventeenth time. “Unless I end up chopped up into little bits and tossed into a garbage can. In that case, you’ll hear about it on the eleven o’clock news.”
“I thought you were meeting in a public place?” she asks, her tone worried.
“Yes, we are. He said to meet him at a place called the Dakota. But a girl can never be too careful.”
“The jazz club downtown?”
“That’s the one.” I’d never heard of it, so I researched it online. “I’m pulling in now. I’ve gotta go.”
“Call. Me. Immediately. After,” she orders.
Rolling my eyes at her overzealous tone, I promise her again. “The minute I’m done.”
I pull into a parking spot near the entrance and cut the engine on my practical sedan. Glancing up into the rearview mirror, I meet my own eyes and giggle.
Julie’s excitement is totally warranted. Normally we are both so calm and levelheaded, this is by far the craziest thing either of us has ever done. I’m glad she’s sharing in my excitement over this plan. Then again, I’m just happy to have my buddy system in place—someone ready to dial the authorities if I turn up missing. It’s not a comforting thought, and my belly tenses.
Without the radio or Julie’s voice in my ear, the interior of my car is silent, all except for my pounding heart. God, this is truly crazy, isn’t it?
I flip down my visor to check my hair and makeup in the mirror. I took extra time and care this morning getting ready, straightening my hair until the glossy brown tresses fell in a long, straight line down my back, choosing my black sweater dress and knee-high boots with tights, wearing all black just like he instructed, and applying light makeup.
But now, it’s almost six o’clock, and after shuffling around the snowy Chicago streets and showing apartments and homes to eager couples all day, I look every bit as tired as I feel. I dab a bit of powder under my eyes, hoping to brighten my complexion, and reapply soft pink lipstick.
Once done, I smile at my reflection. I look marginally better.
I can’t believe how fast the week went by, that it’s somehow Thursday already. I had no further communication with the Gentleman Mentor all week, other than an e-mail he sent last night when he confirmed our appointment and the location.
Seeing that I only have five minutes until our meeting, I grab my purse and exit the car. I want to be inside and seated at the bar as he instructed before he arrives. Striding across the parking lot, I notice the sky is painted in pink and orange hues at that point just before the sun sets.
It’s pretty and romantic, I think, then correct myself with a shake of my head.
This isn’t romance. It’s business. I have to keep my head clear.
Chapter Three
Hale
There’s a certain energy that runs through my veins the first time I meet a new client. Tonight is no different. On the outside, I’m collected and calm, but inside, I’m filled with anticipation.
I’ve never brought a woman so close to my home turf, but of course my little bookworm has no way of knowing the underground BDSM club, Crave, I hold a membership to is located directly next door to the jazz club where she should be arriving at any minute. I can practically smell the fear and excitement on her skin.