She skipped the first girl, skimming past a few pages of photos and then stopped, a buxom blonde staring out at me with a playful, open smile. “This is June. I wanted to start with her for a few reasons. One thing for you to consider is her body type. Do you prefer a girl with your body type, or someone different? Many men only go for one type.”
With Brad being the town’s biggest slut, I didn’t have to wonder about his tastes. Hell, he’d been with Beverly, her red hair setting off the generous curves perfectly placed on her forty-year old frame. Alexis, the platinum blonde stripper, with firm muscles and large implants. Stephanie, the brunette bombshell whose framed nude photo had pouted from above Brad’s bed, a Marilyn Monroe body complete with a wave of sexuality. Then there was me, different than all of them. The man had one type: female. Nothing else seemed to matter. A terrifying realization—my competition stretching in every direction. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “He’s open to different types.”
“Well then, what are you attracted to?” Her voice was so calm; I didn’t understand the question at first.
“Me?”
“Yes. This is as much a sexual experience for you as it is for him. Whether or not you plan to play with the girl, I don’t want you turned off by the looks of her. Is there a body type you’d prefer?”
I bit my bottom lip, reaching out and turning the pages, glancing at the girls who adorned each page. I had been expecting, coming to this house of sex, to encounter botoxed foreheads, silicone lips, and br**sts swelled to unnatural proportions, tattoos and piercings decorating hardened bodies. These girls were nothing like that. They were the fresh-faced natural beauties that adorned Victoria’s Secret catalogs, impossible specimens, smooth skin over perfect bone structure, thick hair, soft curves that were either natural, or perfectly enhanced.
Only six girls were in the book, but they managed to cover every spectrum between them. November was exotic, dark hair, green eyes, a mixture of cultures blending perfectly across her skin. January was blonde with light blue eyes, Nordic features, and full, natural br**sts. She glowed in her photos, her skin looking velvet soft, light pink ni**les that matched soft lips and pink cheeks. June, the first girl Riley had stopped at, was the typical American beauty—tan skin, long legs, blonde hair, and large br**sts too perky and perfect to be natural. Her white teeth and sunny smile stretched across three pages, and from some of her poses, she seemed to be double-jointed in multiple ways. August was pure fire, red hair with sexual energy that jumped off the page, pure sass evident in every pose, grin, and wink. April and May were twins, both brunettes, with flawless natural bodies, enough muscle tone to indicate fitness, enough curves to make them every man’s wet dream.
I flipped back and forth through the books, getting frustrated with myself, with my lack of decision-making ability. I was stopped by Riley’s firm hand placed over mine. “Is it that you like more than one? Or you don’t care for any of them?”
I shook my head. “They’re all beautiful; they’re just all so different. It’s hard for me to choose.”
“Let me tell you my thoughts. I would suggest either January or May. They are our girls who have spunk, but need leading. If Brad is an alpha male, he will want to direct the situation. You need a girl who will wait for orders, not try and set the pace. I don’t want to put you with a submissive, or else there will be no challenge. These girls are a good blend of the qualities I think you need.” She studied me, her intelligent eyes watching as I processed her words. I nodded quietly, flipping the pages back and forth between the two girls.
It was hard for me to imagine May without her twin; the two girls fit so well together, their bodies aligned in almost every pose. She was similar to me, her br**sts fuller, but our coloring was the same, our faces both holding a trace of Italian heritage. January was different, and I felt pulled more to her, my eyes tracing over the lines of her body, and I had a sudden, perverse question of how her br**sts would feel in my hands, the weight of them, so much larger than my own. I blushed and shut the book. “January. Let’s go with her.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Is she available this Friday?”
“It will depend on the time. Let me check.” She stood, moving out of the room, and returned with a small leather book, settling into one of the chairs and opening it up.
“How would ten in the evening work for you? I can put her down for four hours.”
How much does four hours cost? “That would be wonderful, though I don’t imagine us needing that long.”
“And will you come to the house or will you use another location?”
I hesitated. “You had mentioned rules and arrangements if we use somewhere other than this house. Can you go over those?”
“Certainly. Any meetings outside the house require our security to attend. Two men will accompany the girl and wait outside the room. They will need to be in earshot the entire time. That rule is for the girl’s safety and is non-negotiable. If, at any point during the evening, the girl feels uncomfortable, or is asked to do something that wasn’t discussed in this meeting, she may call for the security detail and leave, and full payment will still be required.”
I nodded and ran through the possible locations in my mind. I couldn’t see bringing Brad to this house. He would want to be in a situation he had control over. “I’d like to do it at his house.” I gave her the address, watching her write it down with perfect penmanship.
“Wonderful. Is that where I should send the bill? It will be couriered.”
The bill. My cheapskate innards clenched at the exorbitant possibilities. “Yes, that would be fine.”
She closed the book and smiled. “Do you have any questions? I have everything I need.”
I shook my head, my breath starting to flow more naturally at the realization that we were done. Done. And I had survived. “No.” I braved a return smile. “Thank you.”
She stood, pulling a business card out of the black notebook and passing it to me. I accepted it, rising to my feet, and we moved through the quiet house until we were back in the three-story foyer. A black tuxedo materialized out of the shadows, and a man’s hand opened the front door.
Riley nodded to him and extended a hand toward me. “It has been a pleasure. I hope to see you again.” I shook her hand, feeling enormously satisfied with myself, for my ability to overcome this daunting obstacle. I have officially set up a threesome. It was an unexpected entry to my bucket list. Then I moved through the doorway, stepping into the night and toward the purring Maybach.