“Excuse me?”
“Be a customer. See what all the shouting is about. See what she's all about. I don't know whether this is the real her or the one you know in Seneca Falls is, but I think you need to find that out, if only to put a period at the end of this phase of your life.”
“I don't think so. I just wanted to see her, talk to her, not play sex games with her.”
“Don't knock sex games. Remember, they are just that: games. Have you got a place to stay tonight?”
“No,” Glen said, a rueful smile on his face. “I guess I hadn't thought that part out. I thought I'd see her and some kind of magic would happen. She'd realize that she'd been wrong and we'd spend the night at her place, have wild, wonderful sex, then drive back to Seneca Falls together.” He scrubbed his face with the palms of his hands. “I'm not thinking straight at all.”
“Probably not. Why don't you stay here? There's no one here but me until Wednesday and there's an empty room upstairs. I can lend you whatever you need. Do some serious thinking and maybe we can figure out some way for you to deal with everything. Or at least take a few steps in that direction. If that's what you want.”
“I don't know what I want.”
“Then that's the first thing you need to settle in your own mind.”
Glen spent a sleepless night in a simple bedroom Rock had called the motel room. He thought about Jenna, Club Fantasy, and all the men she had sex with. He balanced that with what Rock claimed to be her feelings toward him, and his feelings toward her. When he met Rock in the kitchen the following morning, he was no closer to understanding what he wanted than he had been the previous evening.
“I still think you should be a customer and experience what she's doing firsthand,” Rock said. “You'd learn a lot about your feelings, and hers.”
“How could I do that? She'd know me in an instant.”
“Not if you were someone who was very nervous about all this and insisted on being masked. We could set it up so that the room was quite dark.”
“What about my voice? She'd know that right off.”
“You could disguise it as best you could and speak very little, if at all. You could use my toiletries so you'd even smell different.”
“Okay, so maybe I could pull it off. So what? What would that prove?”
“It might prove something to you and it certainly would make up your mind one way or the other. Can you make love to her without thinking about other men? Without thinking about what she does to earn a living? Is she still the woman you love?”
“It might help, I guess.”
“What have you got to lose? You can't just go back Upstate and leave everything no more settled than it was.”
“Okay, let's give it a go.”
Rock called Jenna and asked her a favor. “I got a call from a guy who needs some of what you do best. He's new at this, needy and nervous as hell, but he's such a nice guy it's difficult to turn him down. Would it be okay to make a date with him for tonight? He's only got this one evening in town and he's willing to pay extra. Have you got other plans?”
“No,” Jenna said. “I guess it would be okay.”
“He's really shy so he wants low lighting and he'll wear a mask. Actually, I think he's afraid of being recognized. He might even be famous. I don't have a clue. I just know that Erika vouched for him, so he's legit.”
“Okay. What fantasy does he want?”
“He wants a knowledgeable woman to teach him about good, creative sex. A Mrs. Robinson type. You know, show him all the bells and whistles.”
“I've done that one often enough. Sure, set it up.”
At dinnertime, Glen went around the corner to a sandwich shop and sat for more than an hour over a meal he couldn't eat, giving Jenna time to set up for the evening. At seven-thirty, the time Rock had arranged, Glen entered the brownstone. He was wearing one of Rock's black shirts with his jeans, so there was no possibility of Jenna recognizing his clothing. Rock handed him a Halloween type of mask that covered only his eyes and nose, and fastened tightly to limit the risk of falling off. “You both know the set-up so say very little and just roll with it. You might learn more than you expect.”
Glen shook Rock's large hand. “Thanks, Rock. Whatever happens, thanks for all the advice.”
“No sweat.”
Glen made his way upstairs to the room in which he'd spent the previous night. As he opened the door, he saw only dim, flickering light coming from the adjoining bathroom. “I hope this is okay,” Jenna said from her seat on one side of the room. “I gather you want anonymity and that's fine with me. My name's Hillary.”
“I'm Bill,” Glen said, dropping the pitch of his voice and sounding a bit hoarse. Being politically savvy, his choice of pseudonym was obvious.
She grinned. “Ah. Bill and Hillary. I don't know whether that's the good news or the bad. But you're not here for a political discussion.; Come on in and shut the door.”
As Glen crossed the room, Jenna turned on a CD player. Soft music filled the room. “Let's dance,” she said.
Glen and Jenna had never danced together back home so this was new for him. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair. He was glad now that he'd taken Rock's suggestion and used his soap, shampoo, and after-shave when he'd showered that morning. “Mmm,” she purred. “You feel nice.” She pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “I love slow dancing. It's so intimate without being threatening. Don't you think so?”
“I guess,” he mumbled.
“You know, if you hum along with the music I can feel the rumble in your chest. It's really sexy.”
“Mmm,” Glen said, agreeing with her. Then he found himself humming the familiar song.
“Nice.” After several minutes, she said, “Would you like a drink?”
“No, thanks.” Alcohol would only dull his senses.
After another song and lots of body contact, Jenna slowly slipped her hand up to his neck and pulled his face toward hers. The kiss was unexpectedly soft, a light touching of lips and teasing of tongues. She nipped lightly at his lower lip, then changed the angle of the kiss to make more intimate contact. “You taste nice.”
He'd chewed a mint before he'd arrived just in case she could recognize his taste, although he didn't know whether that was possible. Somehow, now, even though all this must be phony, he was glad she was pleased.
“Tell me a little about you. I know you don't want to talk much, but maybe you can help me a little. Have you had sex before?”
He chuckled. “Yes,” he said, keeping his voice to a hoarse whisper.
“That's good. Was it nice?”
“Very.”
“That's even better. I'm here to teach you whatever you want. What do you want? Could the sex have been even better?”
“Maybe. I don't really know,” he said, unsure how to answer her question. “What do you enjoy?”
“This is all for you,” Jenna said. “What I enjoy is irrelevant.”
“But if you're not enjoying it, then how can I?” Glen realized that he was talking too much, but he kept his voice unnaturally low and continued, “I need to know about women.”
“Okay. I don't know about other women, but I guess I like pretty much everything.”
“Cop-out answer.”
Jenna chuckled. “Right.” She paused. “Okay, I guess I like soft, slow lovemaking best. The kind with lots of touching and stroking.” She pulled his shirt from the waistband of his pants and ran her hand over his back, her feet still moving idly to the music.
“I like that too,” Glen said, stroking her back through her soft, thin sweater. For long moments they moved and touched, her hands sliding over his body. She scratched her long fingernails down his back just enough to leave a tingle. “If I like something I usually think the woman does too. Is that true?”
“Usually. I think men like it faster and harder than women do, but maybe that's a stereotype.”
“Well, I like this,” he said, reaching beneath her sweater and making a path down her back with his nails. She arched her back and pressed her pelvis against his.
“I do too.” She looked up at him. “You're wearing too many clothes.”
“So are you,” he whispered. While he pulled her sweater over her head, she unbuttoned his shirt. Soon her bra was draped over a chair and they danced, bare chest to bare chest. She undulated so the heat of her nipples scorched a path over his bare skin. He pressed his groin against hers, letting her feel his arousal. “I'm all for delaying gratification but I'm getting very hungry for you.” As Glen said it, he realized it was true. Despite his doubts about Club Fantasy, he still loved her and wanted her. How could that be? She was a prostitute. Okay, Rock had told him about Erika and her husband but that was them and he couldn't be like that.
While he'd been musing, Jenna had been removing the rest of his clothing and hers. Soon they were naked on the cool satin bedspread. How many men had she been with in this room? When she wrapped her fingers around his cock, however, he ceased caring. He reached for her breasts and filled his hands with her flesh. He leaned down and sucked one into his mouth, pulling on them the way he remembered she liked, and listened to her moan. This wasn't a con. She was truly enjoying what he was doing. How could she? To her, he was a stranger.
Conflicted, yet aroused, he stroked and fondled, finally reaching between her legs and combing his fingers through her carefully trimmed pussy hair. She was writhing beneath his hand, thrusting and stroking his fingers with her wet flesh. God, she was so wet. She couldn't fake that. She obviously enjoyed lovemaking. The fact that she got paid for it was less important to her than that, he reasoned.
“I want you,” she said, biting his earlobe. “I hope that's what you want.”
“God, yes,” he growled. She took a condom from a bowl on the bedside table and unrolled it over his erect cock. He wanted to be repelled as he drove into her. So many men had done this, but she was still Jenna, and he found that he didn't care about the others.
He found her clit with his fingers and, while he thrust, he rubbed her the way he knew would push her over the edge. It did, and as she screamed her pleasure, he came as well.
They lay side by side, her head cradled on his shoulder, his fingers idly running through her hair. “That was fabulous, Jenna,” he said.
Immediately he felt her stiffen and he quickly realized what he'd just done.
“You called me Jenna,” she said, then sat bolt upright and pulled off his mask. “Glen. My God.” She leaped off the bed and grabbed her sweater from the chair and clutched it to her breasts. “My God. What the hell are you doing here?”
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Shit, shit, shit. Glen.
Jenna couldn't sort out the jumble of her thoughts. She got a lightweight robe from the closet and wrapped it around her, then dropped into a chair. “What the hell are you doing here?” He looked so sweet, the lying son of a bitch.
“I originally came to talk to you and get you to give this all up and come home.”
“What do you think gives you the right?”
“Nothing gives me any rights. I realize that all too well. I just know that I love you.” His voice was soft and so warm. “I know now that this was a crazy idea. I'm sorry. I know that isn't enough, but I'm so very sorry. God,” he said, dropping his head into his hands, “coming here was a totally dumb idea but I couldn't think of anything else to do.”
“How did you find out?” she asked, but she knew. “Marcy.”
“Don't be mad at her, Jenna, she didn't mean to tell me. It just slipped out. She mentioned your apartment and one lie led to another until she couldn't deal with them any more and she told me. Please. She's your sister. Don't blame her.”
Jenna sighed, her initial fury cooling. “I could have expected it. She's such a lousy liar.” She swiped at the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. “I'm sorry you had to find out this way, but I guess I knew you would sometime.”
He laughed lightly. “I was just about to ask you why you didn't tell me, but that's the dumbest question I've ever thought of.”
Jenna smiled through the tears. “Right.” She had to be honest. “I thought about just breaking it off with you many times, and I kept trying to, but I couldn't. I was totally selfish, but I wanted space so I ran off to the big city. I thought I didn't love you; then you called and sent the flowers and it was all so sweet. I've been so torn, Glen.” She shook her head and grabbed a tissue from a bureau drawer.
“I think I understand much more than I did twenty-four hours ago,” Glen said, sliding up so his back was against the headboard. “Rock and I have talked a lot.”