Vanilla Creme . . . . . Part II

“Would you be interested in being my new bull?”

I sat there in stupefaction, attempting to finish my bacon.  I didn’t want to just say no to her request.  I needed to know what prompted this indecent proposal.  Morgan could see that I was searching for the right words.

“Now I know you’re probably wondering why I asked you to be an escort . . .”

“Ummmmm . . . . yeah . . . .  . . .”

“Well Eric, let me be honest with you.  You possess a talent that most women and men I know would pay for”

“But . . . . I already have a gig, Morgan.  You know, that restaurant called ‘The Six’?  Why would I permit you to pimp me to women for a couple of twenties?  Not to brag, but I’m a little better than that”

“Yes, you are better than that.  That’s why you would go for no less than a grand . . . easy”

“Wait.  What?”

“Yes.  The women that request this brand of service are normally high level professionals that don’t have time to date. They need that ‘special touch’ that most boyfriends or johns  fail to give them on a constant basis”

“Well why don’t they just go to Trapeze or something?  I mean, there are plenty of help wanteds online”

“There is a certain level of confidentiality we offer that other agencies don’t.  Imagine Oprah trying to have something on the side.  How can she do that?  She can’t just go to Trapeze”

“I see . . . . . . .”

“And even those rich housewives that need something ‘different’ need a safe option.  Our system is set so there is complete discretion”

“So . . . . last night . . .was that like an interview or something?

“Well that wasn’t my intention but . . . . . . whew!  I can’t even walk straight because of you!  My lady part is still throbbing!”

“I’m . . . . . . . sorry?”

“Why are you so modest this morning?  It seems like you were trying to prove a point to me last night when you put me in the air and refused to let me go!  That’s how the bed fell down!”

How could I possibly forget all of that?  As Morgan continued to tell me about last night’s adventure, my eyes began searching for my friend.  I thought I had left him in the room but I could see that Morgan had placed him on the counter next to the Keurig.  I didn’t believe I would need my strength so early this morning but . . . .

“So what do you think of the maple butter I made?  I added a touch of cinnamon”

“All of it’s great Morgan.  It really is.  But lady, I’m still trying to understand why are you trying to shop me to others?  I don’t know any woman who would want to share a man they say was the best they ever had?  Even bisexuals I have encountered didn’t want to share me with their females partners . . .”

Morgan looked at me long and slow while she held her coffee like a sacred urn.  She nodded a little then adjusted her gold frames ever so slightly.

“Eric, I need you to understand something dear; I’m all about business.  I’m not trying to be your wife.  I’m not trying to be your boo.  I tend not to get carried away in my emotions.  I can compartmentalize”

“But you were going on like . . .”

“Yes, the sex was amazing.  And yes, I will want more of it.  However, I’m not trying to let sex lead me into another bad relationship.  Great sex doesn’t lead to a happily ever after.  Take my ex for example.  He was a terrific lay but he was a wretched bastard! Fact of the matter, I got into the business because of him!  He felt the need to stick every woman along with me!  When I wanted to leave, he reminded me that I signed the prenup.  I wouldn’t get a damn thing if I left . . . . .”

“So you got into this business because your husband was cheating?”

“Well . . .yeah.  I ended up  going through his laptop one day and found the site.  I did some back channels and got up with the owner.  From there, we executed a plan where we blackmailed him into giving me half of everything!”

“But being unfaithful doesn’t make a person lose their job . . . or does it?”

“It does when the CEO is sleeping with men as well as women and doesn’t want to come out of the closet”


“So I’ve gone through my ‘Not Gonna Cry’ moment.  I decided to take half of what he gave me and invest it back into the company.  Needless to say, I’m making more money than that old bastard is right now!”

“So it’s like that?”

“How much money did you think I was making if I could give you a thousand dollars each session?  Did you think being a food critic actually paid me that much money?  

“So why did you come home with me?”

“Well good looking, you seemed like you needed a good fuck.  You were at the bar drinking your life away.  Normally when people drink like you do, they are trying to exorcise some demon that continues to haunt them.  I didn’t know about your fiancee’”

“Well the deal sounds tempting.  Do you mind if I take a day or so to think it over?”

“Sure love.  I gotta get going.  My clothes should be about dry”

Morgan excused herself from the table and left me there with the extra bacon.  I watched her waddle into the laundry room before I claimed my strength.  I poured out the remainder of my coffee before replacing it with my liquid courage.  All of the anxiety and self-doubt rinsed away.  I was on my second cup when Morgan came back into view.  The way her cleavage called to me made me want her . . . .  

“Looks like someone is ready to tear the rest of the bed down!  You might wanna put that away before you stab somebody . . . ”

I laughed but I honestly wanted to remember what she felt like.  

“If you have the time, I wouldn’t mind taking you on this counter right now.  You can be a little late to work can’t you?”

“As much as I want to, I gotta get your article in.  Remember, business first!  If your article isn’t in today, then you’re not getting the extra business that will make you a household name.  We will have time to play later on”

She kissed me on the cheek as she wisped out the door.  I sat back down at the table and soaked up the last of the waffle in the maple butter.  As I continued to experience fragments of my late night shenanigans, I could hear my phone ring in the other room.  By the time I got to it, I had missed the call but the mystery caller left a message:

“Hey Eric, it’s me. . . Lauren.  I know I’m the last person you would expect to call and I know you probably don’t want anything to do with me but I needed to tell you that . . . . . . . I miss you babe!  I miss us!  You have no idea!  God, it has been so difficult!  I realize that I was curving you before but I want us to work.  I want to be your wife baby!  Please call me so we can work this out! Please . . . . . . ”

2 thoughts on “Vanilla Creme . . . . . Part II

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