He looked at me, smiled, and shook his head. “You are different. Okay. I’ll get more into it.”
He sat up straighter and took on a more serious demeanor, as if he were on the witness stand in a courtroom or something.
“Very wealthy and very successful men are often too busy to look after their social lives, especially when they are out of town, and for many of these men, New York City is out of town. They fly in for very important meetings and conferences, often on their private jets. Some own them, and some fly their companies’ planes. They’re generally very goal-oriented, hardworking executives, who, when they do get a chance to relax, like to relax with women who meet their expectations.”
“What expectations?”
“Intellect, grace, style, beauty, humor—in short, high-class escorts. When I looked at you, and especially after I spoke with you, I sensed that you could be a star in this organization. I like to take pride in my ability to spot someone like you, someone who already has some of what is required in her and just needs to be placed in Mrs. Brittany’s capable hands to develop and nurture the rest.”
“You sound like you’re casting me in a movie.”
“In a sense, I am. I really was an entertainment agent once,” he quickly continued. “That’s a cutthroat business. I was at it night and day. Besides finding work for my clients, I had to babysit many of them. It got so I didn’t have a personal life anymore, and then I met Mrs. Brittany through a mutual friend, the head of a movie studio.
“At the time, her enterprise was already quite successful, but she is always on the lookout for new employees. She is a very careful woman when it comes to her associates. Believe me, I went through a far more thorough and tougher vetting than you will. I’m proud to say I’ve been with her for nearly ten years.”
He finished his champagne and looked at me. I finished mine and handed him the glass before I sat back again.
“Let me understand this,” I said. “You’re basically an agent for a high-class pimp?”
Even in the low light of the limousine’s interior, I could see him become pale and then flush red. “Absolutely not! Don’t you even think such a thing.”
“You said Mrs. Brittany provides escorts for rich and powerful men, and you find her women to be these escorts.”
“Yes, but not as prostitutes. I told you that she’ll explain it to you better than I can, if she wants to go that far with you,” he replied, still a bit peeved. “Look, you’re going to her home to interview and judge her and what she has to offer, as much as she will judge you before she makes any offer. There’s no obligation.”
“Despite all you have spent on me?”
“I told you. It was an investment.”
“Now that I hear more about it, it sounds more like a long-shot gamble.”
“That’s what any investment is, once you take off the gift wrapping.”
I glanced out the window as the limousine picked up speed. Darkness was invading the streets. I never really thought about living in New York, the anonymity of it. There were so many people on our block, but less than a handful who knew us. I saw how people walking the sidewalks, crossing streets, and coming out of buildings and stores barely looked at anyone. The blur of the lights, the empty faces, and the endless traffic suddenly made me feel very sad, very alone, and very vulnerable. What was happening to my arrogance and self-confidence? Was I right to think I had the strength and determination to live without the safety net of my family, or was I just fooling myself?
I turned back to him. What were he and Mrs. Brittany really offering me? If I wasn’t intended to be some high-priced hooker booked out to wealthy businessmen, what was I to be? Was Mr. Bob denying it just to get me to play along, hoping this woman, who was probably nowhere near the woman he claimed she was, could talk me into it?
I anticipated meeting some over-the-hill, overly made-up prostitute who had enough knowledge of the business, if I could call it that, to provide young women to wealthy men. What had I gotten myself into now? It was just a few steps up from that goofy, ugly grandson of the hotel owner, who was at least upfront about what he wanted from me.
“I still don’t understand what you’re describing. You say this is not an organization for high-priced prostitutes. What exactly do these women do with these rich and powerful men? Play video games?”
“Mrs. Brittany likes to say they complete them, make them more presentable. They wear them on their arms the way they wear their expensive clothes or jeweled watches on their wrists when they go to exclusive restaurants or social events. But the most successful of her escorts provide much more than just helping them to look good and feel good about themselves. They entertain them.”
“Entertain them?” I started to laugh. “Without having sex? What, are they all gay men or eunuchs?”
“I’m serious. You shouldn’t ridicule this. You’ll be sorry.”
“Well, I don’t get it. You’re not telling me enough for me to understand.”
The frustration practically foamed over his lips. He stiffened and looked more determined. “You know what geishas are in Japan?”
“I think so. Aren’t they prostitutes?”
“Not really. Not the high-class, authentic ones. There’s a long history of their existence. The first geishas were actually men. The main purpose was always to entertain with their beauty and their talent. Authentic geisha girls today are not sold into indentured service, nor are they forced into sexual relations. A geisha’s sex life is her private affair.”
“So?”
“Well, it was Mrs. Brittany’s idea to create a Western form of geisha. There really is no equivalent to them in our society. They are truly a form of Japanese art.”