Caught Inside (3 page)

This whole thing came about when a
female Japanese executive from our top clientele list explained to
me how a successful woman from Harvard, had three kids and a
gorgeous intelligent boyfriend yet was able to be the president of
such an elite company that was successful, look incredible at
forty-five and keep it all together. This questioning ensued over
sushi and Saki, too many Sakis, or I do not think she would have
divulged her secret.

The ex to the three kids they share,
lives in Hawaii and has them every summer. All summer. The three
kids attend private school during the school year along with two
full time live in nannies. The gorgeous intelligent boyfriend was
practically mail ordered from a discreet private escort company.
She had never slept with him; he was only arm candy for all the
social events, poised for pictures to keep the barracudas at bay -
those being the men who want her for her money and status. In a
rambling conversation, she carried on how if she must really admit
it, her staff was her success, but she did not always want them to
know that. It kept them on their toes a little easier that way. By
nights end, I had only a phone number to what might be my saving
grace to one of the very dilemmas I seemed to be having myself.
That phone number connected me to a very elite and discreet escort
service that guaranteed I would not be getting another Christian
Conner. I had my hesitation in doing this again, but her words of
guaranteed success not only with herself but a list of camaraderie
females in the business that could contend that this service was a
god send legit.

Being single, yet making the money I
do and looking top of my game had me spending more time fighting
off potential barracudas. When what I really wanted to be doing was
make that large bonus this year by concentrating on my clients.
This seemed like the best solution to my problems, although it came
with such a high price tag, I had some reservations as to if it
would all be worth it.

Zachery's smooth timber voice brought
my attention back to him from the wayward thoughts that kept
popping up in my head. "Jennifer, what would you describe as your
best features?"

I glanced off at the mirror I had used
earlier to fix any stray hairs. I caught my reflection, mentally
said my name to myself. Jennifer mysterious Everest, what are your
best features?' I looked deep into my copper brown eyes that had
always caught men's attention. I had round sensual eyes with just a
curve to the end that gave me an erotic look. Long dark eyelashes
that came with my auburn-brown hair, which was recently colored
with a hint of dark dominance look to it. My hair now shoulder
length, was always styled in a professional fashion, but today, I
had chosen to wear it with a few large soft curls. My skin had a
soft golden glow, thanks to an expensive spray tan salon that came
to my office discretely once a week. I did not have the time
otherwise. My height of five foot eight out of heels could offend a
shorter man; I would need a tall man. My athletic build often had
to be supplemented with push-up bras to show the curves I desired
in low cut attire. I stared at my reflection long enough to make
Zachery uncomfortable that his voice filled the room with a second
question. "Let me ask you it this way. If you could describe
yourself like a product to someone with only a few descriptive
words, like say strict, confidential or stylish and smooth. What
words would you choose? This helps us in placing you with the
appropriate male to stand next to you and compliment you in all the
social settings."

So, he wasn't looking for descriptive
words to my looks, more the person I am. I glanced back at the
reflective mirrored window and smiled seductively. "If I was a
product. I would describe myself as mysterious, sensual, seductive,
sensible, persuasive, priceless, one of a kind, unusual, did I say
persuasive?"

Zachery laughed. "You did. Those are
perfect words to describe what I have discovered from you so far.
So, my next question is something that I am sure you know already.
Describe your perfect man. The type of man you want next to you
while you work your magic. The type of man, that when you take him
to these social engagements, you can feel proud of the choice we
have selected for you. Then describe to me what preferences you
have in the looks department."

I was attracted to tall men with dark
hair and handsome, but I had dated several types from Spanish to
British to Asian to black. It was my traveling abroad that always
had me attracted to new and interesting men. Growing up and
attending college along the California coast, the one type of man
whom I just had enough of was the blonde surfer boy. They no longer
held any interest for me. I only felt a deep attraction once to one
particular surfer boy and then never again. I cleared my throat
quietly and proceeded to describe the type of man that I needed to
fulfill this position. Because that was what it would be. No sexual
contact, just gestures that made it look so. When we had our
picture taken together for publicity, he needed to look at me like
desire and sex. However, he was not getting either. I had contacts
for that. I could dial my little pink digital book and get any
number of sexually satisfying men with a punch of a few digits.
However, that was not why I was here. I was here to find a man that
could fill the void the corporate world needed me to have, in order
for me to get my goals accomplished, and sales completed. I needed
an escort for hire who would be employed by me, did what I said,
attended what functions I needed, wore the clothes I needed and
nothing more.

If I wanted anything more, I would get
it myself, not through a service. At thirty-two, I had been around
the block to know; that marriage and kids were not for me. They
were only distractions in life I didn't need. A good orgasm, I
could accomplish myself. A sensual lover was something I could get
easily. What I needed now, was just a good-looking intelligent man
to stand next to me, sing praise about me, attend functions and not
expect me to pick up his dry cleaning or cook him a meal after a
long hard day at work. I had Henry for that, my personal chef who
cooked healthy gourmet meals for most of the corporate executive
single neighbors who lived along the beachfront area where I lived,
off the coast of Santa Barbara.

I looked at Zachery and smiled
seductively then I glanced to the reflective window and proceeded
to describe the very man I felt would be perfect for the job.
"Tall. At least six feet. I prefer men with dark hair but have no
preference as to the skin color. I like a man with strong features
and a smile that seduces women. I need the man that stands next to
me, to be able to flash his flirtatious looks to a possible client,
male or female and make them cream their panties or get rock hard.
I have a lot of gay clients that I deal with, and I need the man
who stands next to me, make them want my man." That got a soft
laugh out of Zachery as he used his digital pen to write notes on
his iPad, occasionally tapping the side as if he was indecisive as
to how best convey that message to his notes.

"I need an athletic man. Sometimes
client meetings can take place on a tennis court, a golf course or
even bungee jumping. I need a fearless athletic man. One that is
not afraid of water. There are a few snorkeling excursions I need
to take him on. No hairy backs." The last sentence got an even
louder chuckle out of Zachery, and if I did not know better, the
man that was watching me from behind the glass was laughing as
well. That man, I presumed to be Trey Masterson. Retired surfer
beach bum, made millionaire by coming up with this Johnny come
lately company not but three years ago after taking a bad fall off
the Australian coastline.

I had done my research, and this
private elitist company was not so hidden as much as he would like.
Women cannot keep their mouth shut when they find a good thing,
just like a shoe sale. This company he had built to take rich
women's money was building fast. Rumor had it; the business was
just shy of being bought for the right price. Owning an escort
service with any benefits a rich woman could desire was a hot
commodity. I also knew that he never dated the clients, which was
fine by me. I was not into blonde surfer boys who never grew up.
However, I was enjoying the fact that I knew he was watching me
right now, analyzing me and figuring out what potential man he
should match me with. Because I knew if he got me the right match,
I could get him more international business than he knew what to do
with. I was known for being good at what I do, and making the
connections I had made over the last eight years of international
marketing.

A tap on the reflective mirrored glass
caught my attention, and I heard Zachery apologize. "Sorry. That's
my boss asking me to wrap this up. We've got interviews waiting
down the hall in the other meeting room for you. We did a casting
call, so to speak, off your original answers online but this one on
one interview gives us tape feed to see what we might have missed,
and what we need to be looking for. It's all very... how shall I
put this?"

I laughed. "You don't. I get it. I
really do. If I was a man looking for a female escort, it would be
like selecting a car. I want the leather seats that heat and cool.
The steering wheel that is heated in the cold. The brake assist." I
started to laugh then I stopped at the second rap on the reflective
glass window.

"Ok. Zachery. It's like this. Tall,
mysterious and handsome. A killer smile with athletic abilities
that make us look like the winning team. An intelligent sense of
humor with worldwide knowledge about foreign countries. He must
know how to dress for the occasion and be flexible with time. In
other words, I want your premium package. He needs a passport and
can travel on short notice with my company's private plane. He has
to have the ability to memorize facts about dates and things we did
that never actually took place. He has to look at me like a steak
dinner that is tender and ready to be eaten, but he can't eat me."
We both broke out in laughter at the last part.

"In other words. I want no sexual
contact with this man past the physical touches that he will offer
to me in public, to make it look like we do. However, we don't. I
don't want that complication. I need a man who will understand this
is not personable but business. He cannot make future contact with
any of the elitists that I put him in touch with down the line, or
they will know this is a sham. I need utmost discretion, and I am
willing to pay a premium price for the man I select. I want to go
out on a few dates in the next few days with some choices, and then
I will let you know."

"Fair enough." Zachery stood up and
offered me a hand to help me out of the brown leather chair I had
been sitting in for the last half hour. He set his hand softly to
my lower back and escorted me out of the room, past the door that I
was sure held Trey Masterson in, who had been watching
me.

We walked down a long hallway, out a
private door, that led to a side building, which had an incredible
outdoor garden attached to it. As I got to my convertible Mercedes,
I saw the parking lot to my right filled with a variety of cars,
mostly convertibles and sports cars with a few small two-door cars.
Cars that most likely belonged to the men being interviewed right
now. I had to wonder what kind of men came out for a job call like
this, and then I looked down and shook my head at the thought. Not
just the economy could make a man do a job like this but the
intrigue of the game and the amount of money they made to just
stand next to a woman at her disposal was phenomenal. Not to
mention, I had heard a few of these escorts actually ended up
marrying the women who would never have given their poor asses the
time of day before the services. Now they were living La Vida Loca
and realizing the lifestyle of the rich and successful isn't what
it's always cracked up to be.

As I started my Mercedes up and
lowered the convertible top down, I took one last glimpse into the
beautiful outdoor landscaped garden I just walked through. It was
one of those things my beach side home did not have. I didn't have
the time nor did I have the skill to garden like that, but I would
surely like to have one. I'd have to think about that in my spare
time, hiring a landscaper for my property. I wondered why this
garden was here in such an unusual place. An office suite just
blocks from the coast yet it was like someone lived here. I saw the
door open and out stepped none other than himself, Trey Masterson.
His tall height created a presence that made me do a simple
internal word. Yum. His blonde hair, tanned skin, green eyes and a
killer smile gave him a double yum. His broad shoulders showed
through on the simple white men's tank top he was wearing. His tan
muscular legs were hidden from the big khaki cargo shorts he had on
and that had me thinking about taking them off. He was not my
normal attraction of tall and dark. However, he was definitely more
handsome than the picture I saw. I felt something stir of a memory
long ago then realized it could not be. Then he turned and looked
over to me after bending over and picking up a bright salmon
colored Hibiscus flower. I watched him look at me and smile, and
then he walked towards me with the flower in hand.

I wanted to put my convertible
Mercedes in reverse and hightail it out of there. I was in fight or
flight mode. Because no man, had ever gotten me so physically
sexually worked up in one short moment, one fleeting moment of
attraction from a short observation. I felt my nipples harden and
my thighs warm up. I put my sunglasses on my face to cover the
obvious attraction that showed in my eyes. I was not into surfer
boys, never had been since the eighth grade and never would be
again. A girl only gets her heart broken that hard once. Then he
stood next to my car door, handed me the flower and introduced
himself. "Trey Masterson. I run this joint."