Out In The Cold

By

Virginia Kane

 

I had just finished the routine cleaning up our apartment when Bill burst in, slamming the door behind him.

What’s up?

"That lousy freaking a-hole!"

"Who?"

"The landlord. He stopped me in the hallway and demanded the rent we owe, right in front of those two foxy chicks from 407. I felt like crawling under a rock. The bastard knew they overheard him, and even checked out their reactions to the confrontation."

"Why’d he want to do that?"

"He probably figures that we’ve been itching to get into their panties. Fat chance we’ll have to get to first base with those two, now that they know we haven’t two nickels to rub together. Is it our fault our employer went belly-up? We must have over five hundred resumes out, and still haven’t heard zilch about a job opening. You’d think the jerk would know how scarce good jobs are since 9-11 and should cut us some slack. No, he has to make a big scene in front of two of the best looking tenants in the building.

I had to literally beg him for just a few more weeks’ time, promising we’d catch up on the rent as soon as one of us lands a job, any job. By the way, any news in that regard?"

"Nothing. I stayed close to the phone all morning, hoping to hear something. We clued our few friends, and our families about how lean it’s been. You’d think someone would come up with a worthwhile lead for us by now. The only incoming call was from my folks. They want me to pack it up and come back to Indiana to help them with the farm until the economy improves."

"Are you going to give up on your career and move back in with them?"

"Not yet, but I have to be honest, Bill. It doesn’t look good. I spent two hours, scouring the ‘Net’ for an opening in our field. The few offerings out there were scams, pushing trash off on friends and relatives or worse. The job market sucks, nationwide. What the hell are we going to do? Don’t worry, though. I’m not about to run out on you, to face the landlord on your own, --- yet. By the way, have you talked to your dad recently?"

"Yeah. Guess what? He’s out of a job, too. I tried to explain that I’ve been out of work for the past two months, and can’t put him up! He asked to move in with us, Phil."

"That’s all we’d need. Your dad’s okay, but his drinking and the kind of company he keeps would only spell more trouble for us. The landlord would put us all out into the street if he moved in. I hope you were able to convince him that it wouldn’t work out."

"Don’t worry. I don’t think he could mooch enough to make bus fare from Dallas."

"Did you tell him we’re facing eviction if we don’t find some way to pay the back rent? If I know your dad, that would keep him away."

"Don’t worry. I told him that I’d forward a new phone number where to reach me when the landlord tosses us out. He got the message. He already knew that I was glad to hear from him, because I wanted to tap him for money. He got off the line in a hurry."

"Oh. In that case---."

"In that case we still haven’t figured out how to raise cash, and we’ll be out in the street, unless we do. We’ve got some serious thinking to do Phil, which will be easier for me, once I dump the load I’m carrying." Bill turned away and headed for the bathroom.

While I was pacing the room, someone knocked on our door. Friends would have rung the doorbell downstairs and waited for us to let them in, after announcing themselves on the intercom. It had to be our landlord or an adjacent tenant complaining about the sound level of our conversation or Bill’s slamming of the front door. I considered remaining silent, hoping the intruder would go away. Repeated knocking was more insistent, so whoever it was, wasn’t going to give up. Bill was busy inside the bathroom. I heard him flush, and the water in the sink run. I figured he was shaving.

For once, I wished we had a peephole, to see who was inquiring. I latched the privacy catch before opening the door. Funny, how being penniless makes a person reluctant to face the unknown. I gulped and opened the door an inch.

To my surprise, the two girls from 407 were patiently waiting. I unlatched the privacy catch, sighed in relief and opened the door.

"Well, hello. Something I can help you with?"

"We were about to ask the same thing." The taller of the two statuesque beauties was in charge and she placed her arm up against the doorjamb, as if to say: "don’t even think of closing this door." She looked gorgeously provocative, smiling coyly.

Her smile widened, putting me more at ease as she said: "We overheard your roommate talking with the landlord. Thought we’d stop by to cheer him up. We know how he must feel. Both of us were out of a job and money for a while, too. Can we come in?"

"Sure! Sure!" I opened the door wider, and gestured to them to have a seat on the sofa.

"Can I get you girls something cool to drink? Bill should be out in a moment." I went and knocked on the door to the can. "Hey, Bill! Coming out today? You have company." Muffled groans of excited recognition from the other side of the door meant he would be out presently. He must have heard the woman’s voice and deciphered my mildly jubilant tone of voice. I ignored his request to confirm who our guests were. He’d probably catch something in his zipper in his haste if I told him. "Make sure you’re decent!" That was sufficient warning. I could almost hear him combing his hair.

The shorter blonde finally spoke. "I think I’d like a glass of soda, if you have any."

"No problem."

"I’d like some as well, if it isn’t a bother," said the taller one. I’d have to flip a coin to pick which was the more attractive of the two. They brightened the otherwise dreary day.

"Be right back."

In a few minutes, I was back, balancing a two-liter bottle of cola under one arm, with four glasses filled with ice cubes on a makeshift tray. Bill was already shaking hands with our newfound friends, trying to impress them with clumsy courtesy. It was quite obvious that he was smitten with the girls. After all, I was, too. Who wouldn’t be?

"They overheard you stalling the landlord for the rent out in the hallway, Bill."

"I know that, Phil. I was there. Besides, they already told me that was the reason they decided to stop by. I can’t wait to hear more about why they came over. I’d have never guessed that our two gorgeous neighbors here might be the very ones who’ll rescue us from our dire plight." Bill was laying it on a bit too thick.

I made an excuse for his corny candor. "Bill’s a bit precocious, I’m afraid, and takes a bit of getting used to. Please ignore his ill manners." Sometimes, he can be too glib for his own good. "He meant the remark about how you look to be complimentary. Trust me. We both have been hoping for a opportunity to meet you to strike up your friendship."

"Well, to be as blunt as your friend is, that’s why we decided to drop by. Frankly, we too were out of work for a while last year, which led us to a terrific way to tide us over a few lean months. We thought we’d pass on our discovery to you. Both of you seem to be in fairly trim shape and are presentable guys. We think you might want to take advantage of the windfall, like we did, to resolve your temporary trauma of being unemployed."

The taller blonde was obviously the more forward of the two, as the shorter of the two girls sat back and let her friend do all the talking.

"You’re kidding, right?" I wasn’t gullible enough to think that either Bill or I was that good looking. If we had been, we’d have been more fortunate in meeting girls.

"No, I am not kidding. You could use a bit of guidance, but both of you seem to have all the essentials of becoming what is considered attractive to women who don’t wish to be encumbered by long-term relationships with men. Interested in hearing more?"

"You’re suggesting that we should become gigolos, right? Thanks, but no thanks."

"Absolutely not. Gigolos are prehistoric predators. What we suggest is for you to become well-trained and very refined professional escorts sans any sexual agenda to pursue."

I wasn’t buying it, and I knew Bill wouldn’t either, but he wasn’t about to skip the chance to schmooze with these two great looking women. He sat down next to the taller one and leaned forward, acting eager to hear more, but basically was only fooling around. His primary intention was obvious, so the woman turned away and addressed me, instead.

"We were working for a fairly successful human resource consultant helping out young employees direct their talents to improve their worth to their employers. Unfortunately, when the economy goes sour, the first ones to feel the pinch are consultants, like us.

So, after weeks of searching for a worthwhile opening, we decided to try a different tack, helping people who had lost jobs improve their marketability, for a fee. The hardest part was finding clients to employ them, so they could afford us. Quite by accident, we came upon a demand for good-looking companions and, now, well-groomed escorts. With our coaching, the two of you can soon be drool material. If becoming escorts doesn’t seem attractive, at least, you’ll be in a better position to score points with the opposite sex."

Bill and I looked at one another and shrugged. Neither of us was opposed to making a better impression on the ladies. Almost in unison, we turned to her and said: "How?"

I added a word of suspicion. "I don’t get it. What’s in it for you?"

"After we help you develop your latent talents, we’ll manage you, charging a modest commission in return for our training and referrals. Sound fair enough?"

"What do you consider to be ‘modest’?"

"Oh, say ten percent of whatever you’ll receive in the way of compensation from clients and benefactors for the first six months, or until you find better career employment."

"Benefactors?" I sat down, curious to hear more of their scheme. "Be our agents?"

"No, not agents. We won’t be directly involved in promoting your services. We’ll merely put you in touch with the agencies willing to engage your services as escorts. Successful people often prefer great-looking companions to accompany them out in public without getting worrying about personal or, more-importantly, sexual involvement.

Wealth often forces people to be cautious and wary of unwanted personal entanglements to the extent of being leery of the people they meet socially. Hiring a person as an escort gives them an intermediary agency to which they can specify precisely what they expect, assuring that the selected individual is advised in advance of the impersonal nature of the engagement, so no one ever misunderstands and tries to use the arrangement as an overt invitation to pursue courtship."

"How long will it take, the ‘development of our latent talents’?"

"Not long. It depends on how willing you are to learn and your ability to absorb what you need to know to do well. Not much more than a month of serious effort, I believe."

Bill replied. "Well, I doubt if we have half that long. The landlord assured me he’d have the sheriff serve us with an eviction notice if we don’t come up with the back rent we owe within two weeks." For once, Bill was being pragmatic. Even if he was using the landlord’s threat to let the girls down easy, he avoided sounding too reluctant, to remain congenial with the two attractive women, even while turning them down.

She acknowledged the thread of what Bill said, and thought a moment, before she spoke. "You know, both of you could really benefit from our help. We’ve been here for a more than a few minutes within which propriety would mandate introductions, yet neither of you has asked us our names. Don’t you feel that that is inappropriate social behavior?"

We both stammered at her words a bit, and I stood up and finally responded. "Please, forgive us. We were neither expecting the pleasure of your company, nor the help you graciously are willing to offer. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m Phil Roberts, and this is my friend, Bill Dalton." He got up momentarily, after seeing me stand.

"Well, I’m Myra Benson, and this is my sister Carla. We’re pleased to meet you both." She extended her hand and we dutifully took it and shook hands with her and then Carla, in turn. She could easily see that we were embarrassed by our lack of manners. "If you both give us your assurance that you’ll allow us to become your coaches, in writing, I’ll be happy to dissuade the landlord from making good on his threat, first thing tomorrow. He won’t cause any further bother; I can assure you. After you’ve both learned how to communicate better, you’ll be able to evoke his cooperation in the future on your own."

"I don’t understand." Bill enquired. "What could you teach us that would make talking to him any less of a pain in the butt than it now is? He’s not very congenial. He’s been on our backsides like a blanket ever since the day we moved in, nitpicking. I think he goes out of his way to be nasty. I think he’s a genetic throwback "

"Ah! That you will soon discover. As your communicative skills improve, you’ll comport yourselves well and inspire others to admire and like you, with ease. We’ll show you two the techniques that convince otherwise disagreeable people encountered to be impressed by your obvious, confident composure and beguiled by your good looks."

"Oh, come on, now. You’re making it sound too simple. You want us to believe that we can become suave, like Sean Connery, in one month’s time? No way!"

"You obviously doubt our skills. Would a demonstration help to convince you? I adore being challenged."

"Sorry, I don’t mean to sound insulting, but we’re not exactly country bumpkins."

"I wish that you were. You’d be far less difficult to persuade. However, false pride is the main reason you lack the admiration of your peers. You have a high opinion of yourself, Phil, but it lacks conviction, probably because you recently lost your job. As a result, you interact socially from a defensive stance, even if you’re not aware that you are. You made that clear to me when you doubted our motives, when you failed to introduce yourself to us properly, and also when you took our presence for granted, shouting to Bill through the closed bathroom door when he was indisposed, instead of waiting patiently until you could quietly and politely address him and advise him of the purpose of our visit.

Doing so, you surely didn’t impress us. Both you and your friend sat down, assuming we would approve. Instead of being open minded, you immediately challenged our sincerity and expertise, without first inquiring into the nature of our experience. In plain English, you’re a typical egotistical male, deeply mired in your own pompous, vain impressions of self-importance. Forgive me for being so brash, but I feel that pointing out a few most obvious weaknesses would demonstrate the depth of our perception into your behaviors."

She had sized me up and made mincemeat of my character in less than a minute, based on less than ten minutes of observation. I had to admit it. I hadn’t behaved very gentlemanly. She saw all the incidental things I hadn’t paid mind to that made me appear to be much less than a true gentleman in her estimation. I wondered how many times other people got the same impression from my lack of attention to the finer social graces.

"Well, I’ll be. I guess I had that coming, Myra. Can we start all over? I guess I could use some cultural pointers, after all. How about you, Bill?"

"Hey, count me in. I like what she’s said, so far. Always knew your head was screwed on backwards, Phil."

"You have no right to speak of him in that way in the company of guests you hardly met, Bill. I can see that your manners are worse than Phil’s. Why didn’t you stand up when Phil did and wait until you are invited to sit back down in the presence of your guests? Phil, at least, had the presence of mind to notice his initial indiscretion and corrected it.

You sat down after your lame excuse for a greeting with people you should be happy to meet. I should resent your behaving like we are old friends. I truly believe that you also fail to realize that you are being rude, with your glib candor. It’s no wonder that you lost your job, if you treat everyone that you meet like they are cocktail lounge acquaintances."

"I suppose that you think you can change all that and remake us into some kind of dull zombies that bow at the waist and stand stiffly at attention. Get real, lady." Bill said it with a cocky smirk on his face. "We don’t need to stoop that low to get by."

"Revulsion. That’s totally expected behavior -- for an egotist. You are going to be fun to teach, Bill. Are you afraid that your personality is really what may have cost you your precious job? Why? Face the reality. You’re out of work. Why should be important to you. What you’ve been doing so far hasn’t been very successful. Why not try a new tack?

We tried to approach you cordially, but by your responses, I think that you resented our offer. I think that we would need to correct what must interpret as a less than enthusiastic estimation of our technical capability to inspire you to improve your manners. Macho ego won’t let you admit that women may be able to help you learn how to be more of a polite gentleman. Just say the word, and we’ll be happy to leave. We merely wanted to be nice to unfortunate neighbors by offering the benefit of our newly-gained experience."

Bill reacted like she hit a sore spot. "I’ve gotten by pretty good so far without needing any guidance counselors. I’d feel funny trying to fake acting like somebody I’m not. I appreciate the offer, girls, but I’m not crazy abut taking some old ladies out on the town to bleed them of their money. If Phil wants to, he can, not me. Count me out."

"I understand, Bill. I’m sorry if we offended you. Well, think about it. There’s no hurry. Not everyone is suited for being lavished with luxury while make a good living. If you should change your minds, I’m sure you know where to find us. Shall we go, Carla?"

I was hoping we’d have a chance to get to know these two women better. "There’s no need for you to rush off so soon. Please. You’re the first other tenants from the apartment building we’ve met, socially. Won’t you at least stay long enough to finish your sodas? Bill isn’t giving you a chance to explain what’s involved. I’m not sure that I’m really interested, but I’d like to hear more about how you’d help us learn how to be charming. Forget Bill. I’d like to know more about what would be expected. Maybe, I’ll try it."

She stood up. Smiling, she stated that any further explanation, with Bill’s undermining every effort she made, would be a pure waste of her time. She made it clear that she felt he would try to thwart them, no matter how beneficial their advice would be.

When they left, Bill and I started to argue. I pointed out that if the idea was a bummer, we weren’t obligated to pay them. It wouldn’t cost us anything. I told him he could have been more polite, at least until we got to know them better. They were both foxes, and I would have been thrilled to get the chance to date either one.

Instead, Bill chose to cut them off short and ruined our big chance. I suggested he really needed some etiquette classes to learn how to act around women better. That resulted in a round of invectives and innuendos regarding his earlier behavior. After about an hour or more of heated debate, we ended up in stoic silence, a stalemate, not willing to admit the other’s words had any merit. She was right about one thing. Bill’s pride was bruised.

The day went by without Bill and I addressing the issue again. The next morning, I had successfully ducked out of the landlord’s sight while confiscating daily newspapers other tenants didn’t bother to pick up, or were distributed after they had left for work. I’d scour the want ads, and replace the newspapers neatly where I had found them, so no one would mind my "borrowing" them for a few hours while they were working.

The next morning, as I was returning to our flat, my luck ran out. The landlord caught me bending over to pick up a paper and confronted me. "Those aren’t here for you to take without asking. --- Aw, Hell, go ahead. I do it all the time. Just be sure you don’t tear out anything from them. Copy what you want down. Return the paper to where you found it." That was all he said. For once, he didn’t mention the back rent, as was his custom. A glint of a sheepish smile showed on his face just for a second instead of his usual scowl, before he turned away, ignoring me completely.

I stood there in appreciative disbelief. Then, I recalled what Myra had said about him not being a bother to us any more. I shrugged it off to my overactive imagination. Maybe, I was being too cynical about him before and the guy was just doing his job, as he thought was best. In any event, I decided that I wasn’t going to worry about it further.

I set the paper down on the kitchenette counter and mentioned the chance meeting with the landlord in the hallway to Bill. "He was actually polite, by his standards, Bill. Didn’t rub my nose in the dirt about the rent, either. It’s not like him. Something’s wrong. He must have filled out the necessary paperwork for our eviction. That’s it. He’s written us off as a pair of deadbeats, and we’ll be hearing from the Sheriff’s department"

"Damn! What do we do now, Phil?"

"I don’t know about you pal, but I’m going to pay a visit to Myra Benson and tell her that I’ve reconsidered. If we get thrown out in the cold now, we’ve a lot to lose. We haven’t a way to preserve our meager possessions. We might get by, sleeping somewhere like the airport’s main terminal, acting like travelers between flights, until our clothes get shabby, but do you have the price of a storage unit to keep what little we own in, until we figure a way out of this mess? We better do some quick thinking."

"I was the one who cut her short, Phil. Let me go. I’ll apologize properly and tell her that we are between a rock and a hard place. If she senses that I’m being sincere, and promise her to not ridicule her training efforts, we might pull in enough dough to get ‘Hitler’ off our backs until one of us lands a decent job. I don’t like the taste of crow, but we haven’t much choice. Besides, I have a better chance of getting hired as an escort than you do."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Hey, it’s nothing personal. I just mean that I’m taller, I have dark chisel features, and I have a better build. You don’t work out enough, like I do. If I volunteer instead of you, I think that I’ll do much better at it. No sense in both of us demeaning ourselves for some money. You can make it up to me later, after you go back to work at a regular job."

"You do better than me? In your dreams, Billy boy."

"Hey, I told you never to call me that! I can take you in a heartbeat; so don’t provoke me. If you have half a brain you know that I’m right. This is only a temporary measure, until the job market recovers. It must be lucrative if the girls are willing to accept such a small cut of the take. We need the dough. Besides, it’s been one hell of a long dry spell. I could use some tender loving care from eager bed-partners, even if they’re past they’re prime. Turn them upside down and they’re all alike, I always say. One’s as good as another."

"Sounds to me like you’re trying to talk yourself into it."

"So what if I am? Think I like the idea of being some old biddy’s sex object?"

"I don’t think you’ll get away with it, Bill. You can’t hide that kind of emotional dislike for what you’ll be doing. You’re too callous about it. It’ll show, and you’ll be a flop."

"Think so? We’ll see about that. Myra thinks she could make a love-doll out of me. Well, let’s put her to the test. You ridiculed me too. Remember? You said I needed grooming, as if you don’t. Well, I’m about to find out if I have what it takes. We’ll see who’s better at being a hired stud. Who knows? Maybe I’ll like being a fancy Dan. I could do worse."

"I think you’re headed in the wrong direction, Bill. Your ego is getting in the way. You think it’s wise, getting into this, acting like a prize bull in a china shop? I’d soft-pedal it with Myra if I were you. I’ve got a hunch she can make mincemeat out of you, if you go there with a chip on your shoulder. Play it cool, dude. Soften up your approach."

"That’s the trouble with you, Phil. You have no class. Dames drool over guys that have their act together. I’ve been thinking about nothing but this scam, ever since Myra sprung it on us. Call it what she likes, she’s nothing more than a madam in a seersucker suit. For what it’s worth, I’m about to begin a career of male prostitution. You think the landlord has gone soft because he’s getting eviction papers? Not me. I think that he knows we’re about to come into money, and he wants a cut, so he’s changing his tune."

"That’s just like you, Bill. You think the worst about everyone."

"I know I’m right, pal. Say, I better go. You’re too easygoing. You don’t stand a chance. I’m wise to their game. I’ll play, but I’ll use my own rules. You’d be too shocked at what they can spring on you to know how to duck and recover. It’s better I go, to protect you."

"You egotistical no-good son-of-a-bitch! What makes you think that I’m more vulnerable than you are? Never mind! Go! There’s no conceit in your family. You’ve got it all."

"Keep my mother and my family out of this. Just for that, I’m going to prove that I know what I’m talking about. I’ll go first. If I don’t fare well, than you try. See if you can do better. We’ll see who knows the score, pal. Hey! Interested in making bet on it?"

"I think you’ve lost all your marbles, but I’ll take that bet, with pleasure. Let me think for a minute. Let’s make it worthwhile. After initial training, we each can give it a month. Whichever of us gets to make more money as an escort in one month is the winner and the loser pays the next month’s rent, all of it. Fair enough?"

"Better yet, lets give it two months and raise the stakes to two months rent. She’s got to train us in fancy social graces first, then check up on our progress, remember?"

"That means the winner will be declared in three months if we’re still around. Right?"

"That depends on you. I think it will be obvious, and you’ll default when you see that you haven’t got a chance. The way Myra was bragging, I should be in demand in no time."

What a jerk! "Oh, by the way. I want to add one condition to the bet, Bill. No dirty tricks. If one of us interferes in any way with the other’s progress, the other is declared winner by default. I intend to play fair, but want it known clearly from the start, that regardless of the outcome, doing anything to disrupt the training, or interfering with a date in any way, would be deemed to be an admission of total defeat. We must agree further to follow all of their advice to the letter, even if it’s ridiculous"

"My, my! You sound as if you don’t trust me, Phil. I was about to impose similar rules, myself. Difference is: I want to add that neither of us can interfere with progress made in regard to our trainers, too. Both of us would prefer to date Myra, so the loser gets Carla. If the girls are as good at being guidance counselors as they claim, we should both be stud-muffins in a month and close friends, meaning: the girls, will be drooling over us."

"Okay, okay. So be it. You’re out of your mind. Do you know that? What in the world makes you think a powerful woman like Myra prefers a man who’s on an ego trip? She doesn’t appear to be the type to me. I’ll bet she likes the quiet type, like me."

"Name the stakes."

"No way. I’m not about to bet on a woman’s preferences. That would be too insane, and likely to prove disastrous. What would happen if she found out we’re wagering over her, like that? We’d be on the top of her shit list, that’s what. That reminds me. We better tell them about the wager we are making. If they think it will cause problems, they may nix the bet. We had best be forthright about it with them. No sense in starting out on a poor footing. They’re too nice to be devious with. Let’s play it straight.

We’d be out in the cold, in a flash, if you were right about their interceding for us with the landlord. You may be right, you know. He would probably still be terse with us, even if he plans to evict us. So, since he seems to have cooled down somewhat, they may have interceded, like they said. Let’s not draw any conclusions until we talk to the girls."

++++

Being pragmatic, I wrote out all the conditions and terms on paper, excluding any and all reference to our ideas about who would get free reign to court which sister. We discussed each tenet, and I worded each phrase to agree to what we originally discussed earlier. Bill thought I was being overly cautious, but that’s the way I am.

I felt our getting lessons in grooming to be a professional escort wasn’t going to be a fun experience for Bill or for me unless we instituted a means by which we both had a bit of a challenge involved. Bill’s attitude toward being trained by a woman in order to get ahead improved once the primary motive of a serious wager between us was added to the idea.

We both signed three copies of the agreement, after I had typed it up on my computer and printed them out. Bill folded up one copy and stuck it in his wallet. The other, he folded in half to show to the Benson sisters after he went to them with his tail between his legs to ask for forgiveness. He smiled slyly, advising me he planned to use our bet as a ploy to cover up demeaning himself in front of the women, asking them for help.

I didn’t say a word. To me, he’d be making a fool of himself that way. He’d only prove to them that he was thin-skinned, an easy prey. What I didn’t realize at the time was that the game had two players. The same weaknesses applied to me, perhaps more so, because the girls might perceive I didn’t have the nerve to face them and admit we needed help.

"Well, wish me luck, buddy." I did, and he left. For once, Bill seemed hesitant. His usual bravado was absent. I felt he really lacked the courage to face them, if it had not been for the bet we made. I thought about it and concluded that he preferred to go instead of me, just so I couldn’t chide him later about having a lack of nerve.

++++

He was gone for over an hour when I began to feel pangs of guilt. Going to the Benson sisters for help with our dilemma was my idea in the first place. If I hadn’t brought it up, Bill wouldn’t have in a million years. If the two women made a laughing stock out of us as we were thrust out into the cold, it would be my fault. I began to feel that I suckered Bill into the bet to get him to go. Then I dismissed that thought. He offered. I didn’t try to cajole him into it. After a bit, I realized that I was arguing with myself. My imagination was getting the best of me, because, cowardly, I sent him to do what I should have done.

The faint knock on the door broke my self-induced stupor. I opened the door and found Carla timidly standing there. "Hi. Myra sent me to fetch you. She wants to talk."

We spent an hour discussing the bet. Myra found it to be an exciting proposal. She had no problem with it, but wanted to recite the terms of our wagering out loud, after which, the two sisters signed as witnesses, and asked for our copies. They both signed our copies and returned them. I sensed rather than saw the look of smug satisfaction on Myra’s face.

"Now then. This is how we shall proceed. I shall devote my time to Bill’s training, and Carla will monitor yours Phil. Our current schedule is wide open, so we’ll delve right in, hopefully to achieve satisfactory improvement within the week. We’ll arrange for your assignments, and critique your performances after each one. Your basic training should be complete in far less time if you apply yourselves, recognize deficiencies and correct them immediately as we go along.

If either of you have any questions or feel a change of heart, we’d like to know of it, now.

As you know, we can’t withdraw what we’ll teach you, once you master the finer aspects of being couth. Therefore, we cannot begin, without first obtaining your commitment to us to pay us commissions on the income you will derive from our training.

Once you sign the agreements to accept our guidance, we expect your full cooperation and availability for assignments for the next six months and we’ll also expect the right to modify the training programs if we find that you are less than able to fulfill your part of the bargain. For example, should either of you fail to impress clients as an escort, we’ll modify your training for you to become efficient in a similar role, such as conference planner, master of ceremony, maitre d, head waiter, or even food service staff, or a lesser occupation. There’s a bountiful demand for extremely respectful, polite people who are willing to work on short notice for lucrative pay on brief engagements. Needless to say, we will try to guide you to the most rewarding assignments, as it will also be in our best interests, to provide us the highest possible commissions.

The variety of opportunity will present you with many options. The work is rewarding, in itself, as it still will afford you adequate leisure time to pursue other endeavors, even for the traditional job search you two have been following with rather luckless results. In the meantime, you will continue to have a roof over your heads, as we promised. Even if you can’t find the washroom on your own, and are miserable failures as escorts, at least you won’t be forced out into the cold for the next six months. How’s that?"

Bill was first to waver. "Nobody said anything about being waiters or busboys. You said we’d be escorts for people who want to parade around with handsome guys in tow. I’m not going to be no damned waiter. Forget about it!"

"Giving up so soon, Bill? Okay. Suit yourself. Quit. Tell you what, though. My original offer still stands for Phil. He can use the extra money he’ll earn to improve his wardrobe, while you’re busy digging ditches somewhere to come up with the entire rent for the next two months on your flat. I thought you had more spine than that, Bill."

"Oh, no. The bet is off. We never started. There’s a condition there somewhere that says the bet isn’t valid until we start. I changed my mind, Ms. Benson."

"Hmm. I don’t see that clause in our copy. Show it to me on your copy." Bill stammered in a cold sweat. There was no such clause. He went over the bet three times. "Well, there was supposed to be one. You can’t enforce a bet, like this. It isn’t legal!"

Ms. Benson wasted no time in putting Bill in his place. I decided to join her in doing that by speaking up. "No, Bill. It isn’t. You’re free to welsh on the bet if you’d like. The girls have to have a way to recoup their investment, don’t they? If you walk out now, I’ll sign, and you can pack up and leave. I’ll pay off the back rent all by myself, eventually. I’ve a feeling the girls will do right by me and I’ll make out okay. You can go back to Texas a loser and bunk with your dad. Maybe he can put you up until you can get back on your feet again, but, in the meantime, I’ll be busy. I can’t have you moping around the flat to demean me while I’m giving this idea half a chance, because you’ll try to undermine the process, sure as rain. So, do whatever you want, but I’m signing up."

"Loser? Me? Damn you, Phil! You know better! My dad’s out of work now, too. I told you that. That’s why you suggest him. You rat! So! This how you’re paying me back for offering to let you share the apartment with me? Some friend you turned out to be!"

I bit my tongue. I made the offer to take Bill in and share expenses, after he got the pink slip, a minor detail, which he failed to divulge to me then. I got mine the following week, and he was livid. He had planned to sponge off me while he was out of a job and I was still working, all along. Instead, we both ended up in the unemployment line. He didn’t start serious job-hunting until his benefits ran out. Now he was trying to make himself look like a hero in front of the women. My regard for his integrity just lost mega points.

Myra reacted quickly "There’s no need for the two of you to shout at each other. We hear you plainly if you lower your voices to a decent level. Half of the tenants in the building can hear your shouting through these paper-thin walls. Why don’t you calm down and think this over, both of you. We’re all adults. I won’t make you work in a position that is demeaning, unless it’s absolutely the only possible recourse. Sometimes, the demand for lesser jobs is far more plentiful. I only mentioned them in the event that you don’t have ample good assignments initially. These take time. Those who will hire you will want to see a portfolio about you in advance to get an idea of what to expect. I merely made the suggestion in case you get bored, waiting for assignments and need spending money."

Bill was distressed. "I didn’t go to college for two years to be no waiter."

"What did you learn, Bill? Certainly, it wasn’t good grammar. I say. Yours is atrocious. Give me half a chance and I’ll change that in no time. Wouldn’t you prefer to be thought of as a gentleman, instead of a vulgar lout? Think it over."

"I get careless about what I say when I’m upset. So what?"

"That’s the point. Being cool is never letting them see you sweat. You degrade yourself by your outbursts of poor grammar. I can easily cure you of the habit, if you’ll let me."

"I feel like I’m cornered. If I walk, Phil will say I reneged on the bet. No matter what that paper says, it wasn’t an official bet, until we signed up. I’m no welsher!"

"Forget about the bet, Bill. You have an alternative to offer? Say, buddy. I’m game if you are. Isn’t that what you told me?" I grinned at him, seeing him choke on his own words, providing me my payback for his rotten comment about "taking me in", and he caught it.

Bill conceded, admitting he was outnumbered and bested. He also stated flatly that our bet was still on. "You’re going to pay the rent, my friend. I’ll win the bet if it kills me! I’ll wash dishes and mop floors if I have to, to win. You better plan on putting aside all of your earnings to cough it up to the landlord, not me."

I didn’t respond, feeling that if I did, he’d only counter with another glib comment. If shooting his mouth off made him feel better, it didn’t bother me one bit. What bothered me was whether or not he was right about his ability to earn more money than I could at whatever assignments the girls could arrange for us. He had the build, the looks, and the cocky attitude that gave him a slight edge over me in appearance.

I felt that I had a strong advantage in attitude. I once attended a motivation seminar that included a survey on communication. My responses showed that I was "very amiable" to others, which supposedly means that I sense the preferred pattern of those I am with and adapt to it. With luck, I could use this to my advantage to win the bet. Bill’s long overdue for a hoisting on his own arrogant petard for trying to put down everyone else for him to save face for his own laxity about financial responsibility.

++++

After the two of us signed the engagement letters for the Benson sisters, we were asked to fill out questionnaires to guide them in training us. The arduous task took the better part of the afternoon. The depth of some questions asked impressed me. My respect for their professionalism grew, as I had to ponder long at some questions, to fairly answer them.

After taking the quiz, the girls were very congenial to us, intent on putting Bill and I at ease around them, as they told us we’d be spending a lot of time together over the next few weeks. Myra took the completed answer sheets into the studio office in the flat, while Bill and I waited with Carla, engaged in mundane conversation. When that got tiring, she put the ballgame on their television and left us to while away some time by ourselves.

Bill ignored the game and looked at me. "What did you think of that test, Phil?"

"Test? Oh, the survey. It’s not the first personality evaluation I’ve taken. Don’t worry. There isn’t a passing or failing grade. It merely identifies habits and things like that."

"I know that. What do think? I’m not a dummy, you know!"

Man alive, was Bill being defensive! I kept my mouth shut. It seemed that I riled him, no matter what I said. Inwardly, I smiled. All the better. I was beginning to feel good. He didn’t have a chance to win the bet. He was out of his league, for once.

The girls provided stacked sets of four audiotapes to us to listen to while we slept. We were told that we had to use the special cassette decks they would provide, which were programmed to play the tapes in sequence for four-hours, then repeat them. In the course of repose, we would learn to use many new response phrases to common inquiries that would improve our image to the person asking us questions. If we weren’t asleep while we played the tapes, it wouldn’t matter. We’d assimilate the new phrases, either way. Responding without any hesitation would be handled while we met with the girls during the daytime for the first week, by practicing. They would arrange assignments as soon as they were confident we were ready.

The following week was a busy one. The girls fired question after question at us all week long, for hours at a time. It was rough. Carla took me to our apartment, while Myra kept Bill at theirs. I would have preferred to hear Bill stammer out his answers to Myra to get an idea of the headway he was making, or have her query me too, though I was confident that Carla was equal to the task. I was frequently able to respond with ease, knowing that I was amiable, no matter what it was that she would ask me.

Myra insisted that we get into top physical shape. We weren’t eating very well, because of our lack the funds. Oatmeal and peanut butter on plain white bread were our principle sources of protein and carbohydrates of late. It was dull, but wholesome food. The girls felt our dietary habits needed vast improvement, so they referred Bill and I to a clinic for blood tests, just to be on the safe side, before recommending a dietary regimen.

Then, Myra said we should replace the raw sugar we were getting from soda with a more complex form from fresh-squeezed juices. When we balked at her suggestion because it was expensive, she agreed to provide it, as they bought fruits and veggies for themselves by the case, and used one of those fancy extractors, praising the value of the concoctions over soda. Of course, she expected to be repaid after we made some money. I preferred juice to soda and talked Bill into going along with it. I recalled that concern for health was an issue on the survey I took, but knew that juice was my preference, as well.

Bill insisted on pure fruit juice only, because he hated the taste of vegetable juice. They conceded. I don’t mind the complex flavor of blended vegetable juice, having been raised on a farm and aware of its advantages. As a result, each of us had our own jugs of juice made up every other day, and the girls made sure we both drank our daily quota of a full quart, each per day. Their declared motto was: "to be healthy, wealthy, and wise". They stressed the words, when they congratulated us on choosing to improve our health over continuing to ingest worthless "carnage".

We didn’t realize that we were shifting to a vegetarian diet of their design. Oh, we still had meat on occasion, and the occasion was the first Sunday after we started the regimen.

They took us out to dinner, again, indicating that they expected future compensation.

They suggested we order the best meals on the menu that we could think of, as a reward for being diligent for the entire week, suggesting that the pattern would continue as long as we were in training. I chose to have a petite prime rib, while Bill gorged himself on a huge Porterhouse steak that hung over the ends of his plate. After all, he was in far better shape than I was, burned more calories, and I wanted to level the playing field.

Both girls ordered grilled fish, accompanied by a lecture on the dangers of excessive red meat in one’s diet. I saved some prime rib for later and took it home in a doggy bag. On the way home, Myra took it away from me, claiming I ate enough red meat already, if I expected to lose my paunch. I surmised she intended to secretly have it herself or share it with Carla, so I didn’t object too strenuously. Anyone can lecture publicly, but adhering to a meatless diet indefinitely wasn’t a notion I cherished. Why not let her have a bit of escape from her self-imposed abstinence from meat? Strictly imposed rules make the occasional violation taste much better in my opinion. That was odd. It wasn’t my opinion. It came to my head without my thinking about it. I don’t recall ever having said it before.

Gradually, I noticed other opinions and phrases that I never used before had crept into my quotidian vocabulary. I was often more complimentary than I had been in the past. Upon meeting Carla each morning, I’d take pleasure in noticing the way her hair was combed, and the subtle fragrance that surrounded her. I would appraise her outfit and consider if it augmented her great looks, and tell her it looked great on her, even if it did not. When she hinted that I should take greater pains in preparing to meet each day, my world collapsed! Her opinion of me meant much more then, than it would have one week before.

I asked to be excused and ran to my closet to find my best dress shirt and pants. Then it dawned on me. Bill! He too, was dressed better for this morning’s chat with Myra! Was it the tapes? Were we more conscious of our appearance due to the endless hours of hearing about how a person’s attire is critical to success and happiness?

I gave it some thought. Why not? Perhaps good grooming is something we learn from the example of others around us, or by hearing about the benefit of careful attention to minor details repeatedly. It can’t hurt to be concerned for one’s appearance, as long as it doesn’t become a fastidious preoccupation.

Myra and Carla were always dressed very conservatively, but wore immaculate clothes that were crisply pressed. Even Carla’s shoes were polished to perfection. I would have to compliment her on her ‘due diligence’. Where’d that come from? No one ever mentioned the lack of it to me, even though I knew I was laggard in maintaining my appearance. I’d have to concentrate on it more from now on.

When I returned to the parlor to continue with Carla, I noticed she glowed in appreciation for my changing into neater looking attire. She jotted something onto her note pad before proceeding to fire question after question at me. My mind wandered momentarily, while I considered the grueling. It wasn’t the third degree, but made me feel somewhat ill at ease.

Was my personality equally deficient? I smiled, knowing that Bill was enduring the same treatment. He really needed it! In reverie, I barely realized that Carla stopped asking me questions. My mind was on Bill. He looked nicer this morning, as if he stood taller than he had before. I wish that I had a dimple on my chin like his. I never paid any attention to it before, but it did make him appear to be suave. He trimmed his sideburns smaller, too. It’s an improvement, I think. He also stopped wearing a T-shirt, letting that tuft of chest hair show. Damn! He was using every trick in the book to get Myra interested in him! My bald chest surely wouldn’t turn any gal’s head. Oops! Carla caught me daydreaming.

"What’s on your mind, Phil?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry. I lost my train of thought for a second. Please forgive me."

"Thinking of someone you cherish?"

"Me? No! Absolutely not! What makes you say that?" If only she knew I was thinking about Bill. "Nothing like that, really? I just recalled that Bill seems to have changed his attitude about developing social graces. He hardly ever uses crude language when we’re alone, and his manners have improved vastly over the past week. Don’t you agree?"

"Uh-uh. No fair. I’m not going to cheat and tell you if he’s doing better than you in that regard, Phil. Besides, if I told you that your manners have excelled beyond his, you’d stop trying so hard. I want you to concentrate on assimilating as much culture as you can. If he beats you in the bet, it will only be your own fault, for not trying as hard as he is. Right now, you should be paying attention. You have plenty of time to worry about Bill’s progress in the evenings. End of subject." She put her head back into her loose-leaf binder, turned the page and kept hammering away at me.

That evening, I watched Bill more carefully as he strutted around the apartment. He had changed dramatically. His speech patterns were different, and he enunciated words more carefully. He was determined to win the bet, for sure. Why else would he carry on like Cary Grant? I underestimated his will power. He was working this "poise" aspect to the limit. What I thought would be a lead-pipe cinch wasn’t going to be so easy, after all.

He noticed my paying attention to him. "Something wrong with how I’m dressed, Phil?"

"No, not at all. In fact, I think you look spiffy, Bill. I must congratulate you. You look terrific in that outfit. It’s very becoming."

"Well, thank you, Phil. I appreciate that you noticed. It’s just something from my closet I’ve neglected to wear lately. It’s not new. It’s a shame we haven’t the resources to buy some new duds, you know. ‘Clothes make the man’ they say."

I choked. Last week he referred to the way he looked now as being a dandy. Still, with his hair combed out of his face, he could give any movie star a run for his money. I had to change the subject. For some reason, he looked uh, well, uh, a little attractive to me.

"Did you go to the photographer yet, for the posed portrait shots for your portfolio?"

"I sure did, this morning. Myra said you go tomorrow. She’s a whiz, you know. Trimmed my brows to perfection for me, as well as my sideburns and the nape of my neck with a straight razor. Then she applied a bit of facial powder to show off the cleft in my chin and my high cheekbones. Look great, don’t they? Does the highlighting still show?"

"Is that what it is? I thought you look different, somehow." I didn’t want to let on how great I thought he looked. His manners were improved, but his damn ego didn’t need getting any encouragement from me. My features paled in comparison. Winning the bet wasn’t going to be easy, that’s for sure. Then again, maybe Myra could work the same kind of magic on me. I sure hoped so. I made a mental note to ask her.

"I’m going to my room to listen to my tapes." I figured that I had better excel in manners to stand half a chance against Bill. I noticed how well they improved for him in less than a week. Why’d he have to be lucky and have a pronounced cleft in his chin, too?

++++

In the morning, Myra helped me to get ready for the photographer. Afterwards, when we got back and looked at the proofs, she studied them quietly. The photos made me look odd. My round face was juvenile, and not what the average mature woman would choose for a date, unless she was interested in showing off a make-believe son of hers to some cronies. Myra told me that some women like men with a "bright, youthful" look, but she was probably only trying to bolster my sagging ego. I suggested augmenting my beard line to make me look older. She turned me down, saying she didn’t think it would work, and I’d look as if I was trying to hide my youthfulness. She ordered a set of prints for a trial run, and sent them off to an agency that made arrangements for escort service.

Bill went out on two engagements and had another lined up before I even got word that I had been rejected by my first prospect that insisted on a young looking guy. Damn. I sure didn’t want to hear Bill’s bragging on his next free night. He already was paid his share of the six hundred dollars in fees, and I was sitting on an empty wallet. The worst of it was that his success brightened his spirits to the point of being vain, looking at himself in the mirror, constantly, whenever he thought I wasn’t looking. Funny thing though, I was always looking. That damned chin cleft made Bill look like a younger version of Robert Redford, or better. His self-confidence inched up with every date.

Another full week went by. I was alone every night, waiting for Bill to return with a big grin on his face, describing how his evening went, and what his date was like. One date must not have been very attractive, because Bill didn’t say much on one occasion. By then, I was preparing myself to lose the bet, knowing I’d need a menial job to pay off the bet, especially since I made a point of his possibly reneging on me. My morale was in a nosedive. I had to think of some way to catch up.

Myra sent Carla to fetch me over to 407 the next morning. "You finally have a date, Phil. The agency just called. It’s one of those ‘spur of the moment’ things. Let’s go over what is expected of you. The woman wants to go out with a very young "male", an odd choice of words. I preferred to be thought of as a "man". I soon found out why. "Many ladies will be there. I’m sure some of the women will take notice of you and be jealous."

"Yeah, either that, or their daughters will. I’m sorry I got involved. Bill’s having a great time, while all I do is count sheep, night after night. I might as well throw in the towel if this is the best I can do. He looks terrific compared to me."

"Don’t you dare! There are six full weeks left to the bet, and five and a half months left to our agreement. I might as well tell you something. Bill is getting a lot of play because of his good looks and impressive physique, true. However, I think that he’ll only get a single date with each prospect, whereas, you’ll get repeat requests from yours. You possess a wonderful personality, Phil. Give the gals from the upper class a chance to see you out and about and start asking about you. I’m positive they will begin to request you. As long as you keep an open mind, be your charming self, you’ll get a lot of chances, I’m sure."

"Well, if you say so, Myra. Okay. What have I got to lose? I‘ll stick it out until the end of the bet. If nothing happens in the meantime, I’ll have to spend my evenings being bored. At least the landlord hasn’t been bothering us. I have plenty of free time to devote to my job-hunting. I think I’m going to need a good one in order to pay off the bet."

"Don’t be silly. Look at the bright side. Bill is now earning enough money for him to pay off the bet when the time comes. When demand for his talent tapers off, and the demand for your time heightens, he won’t have to be a sore loser. You will have won the bet, fair and square. Don’t be hasty and lose heart so easily. Think about it. Bill almost quit before he even got started."

"I sure wish I had your confidence, Myra. This is my first assignment. What happens if I’m a flop? Bill will laugh me right out into the cold."

"Don’t worry your head any. If you aren’t in demand soon, we’ll think up some ways to improve your appeal. We haven’t even scratched the surface, yet.

By the way, Phil. Have you given thought to how you will react if your sponsor shows an interest in romance, tonight? I hope you won’t behave prudish or offended."

"Romance? You told us that wouldn’t be an issue, as the sponsors aren’t interested in that kind of involvement. To tell the truth, I don’t know how I’d react. I thought I’d keep my hands to myself, if that’s what you mean? I don’t want to cause you any embarrassment."

"Of course, of course. Don’t be aggressive, under any circumstances. However, it won’t hurt to allow your date to show some affection. I understand Bill has had occasion to vent pent up frustration. Why not let nature take its course? You may be pleasantly surprised."

"I don’t know what I’d do if that happens. I’m no prude, but my hormones don’t go on a rampage very often, either. My attitude toward sex is somewhat traditional. I was raised on a farm, so it’s not a foreign subject. Without deep emotional attachment, sex is merely flesh rubbing against flesh to assuage animal lust borne of instinct. Younger animals do it incessantly, the gender of their partners not withstanding. However," ---

"Never mind that. Let your conscience be your guide, Phil. Do what you think is best to be nice and leave your client wanting to engage your services again, and speak highly of you to friends. I’m sure that you’ll do fine. Now, let’s review some of the phrases you’ve learned over the past few weeks."

++++

The date was a total flop, and I received no tip from the woman, a good sign that she was displeased with me. Fortunately, I soon received another assignment, and Myra described what the nature of my services would be. I was to attend to a woman while her husband accompanied their daughter to a dance, while the mother chaperoned the affair.

Oh, I did fine. Marvelous! The woman’s husband leered at me all night long at the dance. I was surprised that his daughter didn’t kick him in the shins for it. He barely paid any attention to her at all. The mother beamed at his obvious jealousy. I was petrified for the most part. I was so cautious, I’m afraid I was a total bore to my partner. I expected a bad review and was in the dumps about it all day, dreading to hear word.

Surprisingly, I was advised that afternoon that they wanted to engage my services again. I was to be ready for their limo again at 8:00 PM. I guess my lack of conviviality didn’t put them off, after all.

When I arrived, I discovered that the wife and daughter weren’t home. Instead, the head of the house was waiting for me in his office. At first, I was afraid that I had insulted his wife somehow, and he was going to wreak his vengeance on me. Quite to the contrary, we sat in his office, him sipping brandy, discussing life in general and me in particular. He did offer me brandy, several times, but I was so nervous, I didn’t dare imbibe.

He found me to be a fascinating individual and didn’t beat around the bush in telling me so. He revealed that he wished he had a son like me instead of the daughter, their only child. He claimed that his wife was a virtual tyrant toward everyone, in total charge of the domain. He deeply loved her for her strength of character and felt intimidated by her, and swore that he’d never betray his love for her with another woman, as he was sure that she would swiftly deal with such an indiscretion, and send him packing or worse.

I felt deep compassion for the man. He was a man that felt a need to hire someone distant to listen to his woes. He told me that a member of the household staff might betray him to his wife if he dared bare his soul to one of them. His professional associates weren’t any better. His wife’s father founded the company, run by her brothers. His employment was mere window dressing, so he wasn’t mired in much responsibility there.

He revealed that he was little more than a reporter for his wife, advising her of her dear brothers’ financial strategies, so that she could devote most of her time to her precious daughter’s debutante activities and still keep a close tab on her investment holdings. The young lady was being groomed to be wed to a member of the local upper crust, to further cement control within their elite, tight-knit group of her friends.

I didn’t understand what he expected of me, until we retired to the den. I liked him. He was a quiet, reserved man of forty-five, with a bit of gray at the temples. He appeared to be in good shape, and stood at six feet, perhaps more. He then asked me to tell him a little bit about myself, where I had grown up, and whatever made me choose being an escort for a profession. I explained the bet, the dire circumstances that led to it, and spoke of my early years on the farm with a sense of longing. Truly, at the time, I was longing to be at home on the farm, away from the city, where I was beginning to fear wasn’t right for me.

He listened intently all the while and expressed delight that I wasn’t interested in a career as a male escort. He wasn’t in a position to offer me employment, but confessed that his wife would allow him to engage me for companionship. My mouth dropped open. I’m sure he noticed it. "Surprised? I mentioned it to her this morning, telling her that you’d be ideal if you’d act as if you are the younger brother I never had. There’s one fortunate or unfortunate thing about wealthy people, depending on your perspective. Most don’t procreate as much as the people from the middle or lower class. I guess they are too full of themselves, or a something like that. I was raised an only child, like our daughter. Other than my wife, who I wed by an arrangement, I have no one to confide in."

He wanted to hire me as a buddy? Whatever for? Why didn’t he go out more and build friendships like most people, I asked. In our complex society, rewarding friendships can be available in any bar for the price of a round of drinks and good friends with mutual interest are found by becoming interested in a hobby or sport. He agreed, except, the less fortunate often take advantage of a situation and try to capitalize on it. Oh yeah, that problem, again.

At that point, I felt sorry for him. "What would you expect of me?"

"I’m not sure what to expect, Phil. Loyalty? Your compassion? Friendship? I don’t know. I liked you from the moment I saw you last night. There’s something about you. I don’t know exactly what it is, but I’d like to try and find out. If you don’t mind, I’d like to meet with you regularly and chat, like we’re doing right now. Interested?"

"Well, sure, but I must remind you, that I am not working at a regular job right now, and I have to keep the engagements arranged for me. I can’t afford to lose that bet, without any the funds to pay off if I should lose."

"Don’t worry about that. I’ll be happy to pay you three hundred a night, and would like to meet with you at least once a week. We can go to all sorts of places together like brothers do. We’ll do things that appeal to you, as well. Please don’t turn me down, Phil."

"I don’t know what to say. I did expect to be doing this as a woman’s companion, not a man’s. I suppose I should clear it with my mentors. If my roommate finds out, he’ll think the worst. I’m not inclined toward any ‘physical’ relationship either, not that I’m adverse to people with an alternative lifestyle, I’m just not so inclined.

"You don’t know how difficult it is for me to request this of you. I’m really a very lonely person. My wife isn’t warm towards me in any way. To her, marriage is an arrangement, necessary for her to achieve her other goals. I guess I’m just a pawn in her goal-oriented life. I actually don’t mind. We’re very devoted to one another, but our relationship is void of any passion. I know I don’t need passion at my age, I’d just like to have someone that I feel has good social qualities around, who wouldn’t embarrass me in public. I certainly don’t need a scandal to upset my wife, so female companionship is out of the question."

I spent the balance of the evening following his lead, listening more than talking, being as friendly as I could be. The nagging thought of homosexual conduct kept gnawing at me, yet I didn’t want to insult him, as he wasn’t hinting at it. He was good-natured, congenial, a very adept conversationalist, and proved he could wind a fairly complex yarn, before the hour of my departure drew near. In short, he was a fun companion.

Just as I was about to leave, his wife and daughter came home. She looked at her husband and knew that he had already addressed his intentions to me. She took me in her arms and kissed me on the forehead. "Thank you. Have you made a decision?"

"Not really. I’d like to think on it and discuss it with someone that I trust, someone close, I believe would be the best person to give me advice. I’ll be able to give you an answer

by tomorrow. Uh, I hope I’m not being impertinent, but doesn’t your husband’s request to hire someone for friendship offend you, ma’am?"

"Not at all. I hired you yesterday, didn’t I?"

"Yes, but it’s common for a woman of means to hire a paid escort, when one is needed. I wasn’t aware that men of means did the same."

"Most don’t. They hire young fillies that get into trouble and bleed them for money. If Joel ever tries to do that, I’ll divorce him, and leave him penniless." She turned to him.

"Won’t I darling?" He remained silent and merely nodded, but I had a feeling he had a previous fling that brought on that kind of trouble to his home before, or she wouldn’t permit it. This woman was giving her blessing to this plan of his.

During the limo ride home, I was perplexed. I’d need some time to formulate an effective approach to Myra. I decided not to listen to my coaching tapes and concentrate on how to explain the potential lucrative offer without making it sound as if I was considering to be accepting a rich gay man’s proposition. Every word would have to be precise. After my tossing and turning for a few hours resulted in nothing worthwhile, I gave up, put on my headphones and went to sleep.

(continued)

 

 

 

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