Chapter Four
E ssie got an outside table at the coffee shop, double checked the pepper spray in her bag, and tried to relax. Around her, cars zipped by, people pushed children in strollers, a jackhammer rattled somewhere in the distance. The normalcy of it all seemed to mock her.
She was aware of a certain self-destructive streak in her. One of those defects that therapy and repeated mistakes were eager to point out. But all that had done was made her frustratingly aware of it. She’d become a second guesser, an “I don’t know” type of person, and she resented that. She’d done well in school, just to flunk out of boredom and depression in her sophomore year of college. Her relationship before Ryan imploded, which let's face it, was her fault. A few failed careers before landing on Ryan, who seemed like a warm, safe beach after being caught in vicious undertow and taken to deep waters.
Now that was falling apart, but at least this time it wasn’t her fault.
Right?
The panicky rat chewed on her ribcage again.
I don’t care I don’t care I don’t care how I feel, I am doing this I am tired of this, this person I’ve become, so needy and desperate and unsure I HATE IT
Essie remembered the steely glint in Kara Gibson’s eyes after her experience with the men in the van. The way she’d simply left, chin stuck forward, cutting apart her life with cold, calculated precision.
Essie wanted that.
Needed it.
A man approached the table and her excitement sputtered. He was broad shouldered, sure, but his eyebrows had a caveman, unkempt look and his facial hair was patchy and reminded her of an aggressive moss growing up the side of a tree. The man walked directly toward her table, looked over at her, smiled…
And then walked by.
Essie checked her phone. 2:07. The waitress came along, forcing her to order another coffee.
By 2:15 she was ready to leave. The plan was to go cry on Carly’s couch. Let Carly fill her head with that best friend confidence and then maybe she could go home and deal with it.
A tall, slender man with brown, almost blonde hair that was cut short, passed by her table. He was wearing a red T-shirt and slim fitting jeans that clung tightly to his hips. She watched the muscles in his back move against the shirt as he looked around, confused, the sharp cut of his jaw catching the sun. He looked like he’d be at home in a cowboy movie, sauntering through town to get into a gunfight at the saloon.
He turned around, his thin, slightly lined face puzzled, before spotting her and smiling. He took two steps, paused, scratched his head, pulled out his phone, glanced at it, then looked back at her. “Are you Essie?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“I’m Woods.”
He grinned, extending a hand. She shook it, feeling calluses and rough skin. His arm hair was long and turned blonde in the sunlight. It was easy to imagine him fixing something on her car, his hands smudged with black oil. Or on his back in her kitchen, his head tucked ( under her skirt ) under the sink wrenches and ratchets and whatever else spread out beside him, his hips shifting in his jeans as he tried to reach a particular bolt.
“I’m so late, I’m sorry. Let me get a coffee and then we’ll talk?” He let go of her hand and went into the coffee shop, only to reappear a moment later with a foam cup. He sat down and began rubbing his eyes, yawning. “I’m having one of those days. Set my keys down, couldn’t remember where I put them. Found them, picked ‘em up, and got to my truck. Know what I did? Forgot my wallet. I go back to the house. Find my wallet. Get back to my truck. Wait, where did my keys go? I left them back in the house.” He brought the cup to his lips, his gentle green eyes shifting upward to search her face. “I don’t think I’m very good at being alive.”
His last words stood out to her, and struck her as an awkward, but sincere offering. It wasn’t rare to meet people who seemed to spill forth and give you huge chunks of their lives in a bid to get to know you. But normally they were women, or older people, eager to connect with someone. You caught them in grocery lines or waiting rooms, and suddenly you were ten minutes into a conversation you didn’t want to have, learning every detail about a nice, oblivious old woman’s cats.
Men, especially attractive men like Woods, only seemed to act like that when they wanted to manipulate you. Here’s my vulnerabilities, Essie. Here’s how real and honest I am, how down to earth. I’m different, I see through the bullshit.
Her defenses sprang into action. A thousand spears in her mind formed lines, rows of shields assembled, and a legion of arrows were pulled back and aimed at Woods.
It’s not a date, though.
You called him. He didn’t know you existed.
Essie gave him a diplomatic smile. “I don’t think I’m very good at being alive either.”
“It’s a nightmare, for sure. So—” He stretched, his shoulder joints popping loudly. “I’m sure you have questions. I have things to go over. Details, details, details. You got our card from a friend, and she gave you some story, and it’s something you want to try.”
She frowned. “It’s something I’m considering.”
“Right, right. You’re possibly, maybe, perhaps considering asking three men to kidnap and fuck your brains out.” He nodded vigorously, sipping the coffee again, like he was pantomiming a lawyer who had just heard an expected argument.
“Can you keep your voice down?”
He ignored her. He got to his feet and tossed some money down onto the table. “Get up,” he said.
“What?”
Woods sighed. “I can’t do this if it feels like a bad date. And right now it’s less of a date and more of a… job interview. Which could be a fun roleplay ‘how bad do you want this job’ type deal, but like…” He gestured at the sidewalk. “What if we walk and you tell me why you’re interested, and I’ll explain how we do our best to make it safe and enjoyable for everyone.” He held out his hand, bowing slightly. She didn’t think it was intentional, but for a second, he seemed like a fancy British aristocrat, asking for her courtship.
This man, who, by all accounts was some sort of sex freak, was being more gentlemanly and… fucking romantic than the man who’d looked her in the eyes and lied through his wedding vows.
She took his hand and let herself be pulled upright. They began walking together, Woods letting go of her hand very quickly. He walked with his hands around his coffee, twiddling his fingers against the black lid, but sometimes their shoulders would brush. He made no move to put any distance between them.
Neither did Essie.
“You’re not what I expected,” she told him. A man on a bicycle split between them. They rejoined side by side as Woods answered.
“Well, look at it from my point of view. You’re a woman, meeting a strange guy for something that is… dangerous. It wouldn’t be enticing if it wasn’t, but let’s face it: you’re taking a risk.” His eyes took an interest in one of the shops they were passing, and they lingered in front of it as he examined a collection of miniature lighthouses behind a glass window. “I have to convince a woman to trust me enough to throw her in a van and do all sorts of filthy, disgusting, wonderful things to her.” They moved on, their walk slowing as two women pushing strollers took up the entire sidewalk. He slowed his pace and Essie matched it, another flicker of attraction tickling at her brain.
It was so easy to walk with him. She was always walking so much faster than people. Ryan, obviously, but even Carly and her best friends from back home. But Woods’ body language and steady, fluid stride let her use her quick, furious steps as she filled the gap to keep up. Something about the angle of his shoulders told her when to slow down, when to separate or walk in front as they maneuvered around people, him keeping her on the right, away from the trash cans and road.
“Anyway,” he said, “the only way to do it is to be direct and kind of… I don’t know, relaxed about it?”
“You do seem very relaxed.”
“Thank you. I’m actually quite nervous.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. So that’s the first thing. I’m the face of the group. I’m the guy in charge of making sure things don’t go too far.” He pointed at a security camera, perched like a shiny black beetle on the streetlight. “You’ve been seen in public with me. At the end of this, if anything happens to you, I’m the first suspect people will look for.”
“That’s… smart. Do you run into problems? From women, I mean?”
Woods shook his head. “Not really. Once in a while someone will want a relationship with one of the guys. But they don’t take off their masks.”
“Do you?” Essie asked, hoping he did.
“Yeah. The mask and gloves thing is cool for a while but it gets very warm and—” He nudged her. “—I like to talk a lot.”
“Oh! Right.” She blanched, unsure how to take any of this. Why was she here? How? This was the closest thing to a first date she’d been on in almost six years, and this guy belong to some… orgy cult, so obviously he was at least a little fucked in the head. And yet!
Butterflies. That little flicker of attraction.
I might actually do this.
Woods drained the rest of his coffee and pitched it in a trash can as they walked. The sun glowed on them with pleasant warmth, and a high, cool breeze brought fresh, faintly sea-smelling air to them, knocking away the car fumes and dingy smell of the city. She could smell him, too. Softer than cologne. Comfortable and clean. Laundry soap, like his clothes had just gotten out of the dryer.
Maybe it was all imagination; Essie trying to convince herself things were good in an attempt to avoid accepting how unraveled and strange her life was becoming.
Or maybe this guy was giving her good feelings when she’d been in a knot of misery and anxiety for weeks.
“So… how does it work?” she asked. “Do I meet the other guys?”
“Nope. You won’t meet Owen and Levi. They prefer to stay anonymous. Keep in mind that this isn’t just for you, there are other people involved with their own limits and boundaries.”
“No, I didn’t mean that, I just… Really?”
Woods placed a hand gently on her shoulder and steered her away from a group of tables set out in front of a restaurant. She’d been too busy looking at him and talking that she’d nearly crashed into them.
“Men have fantasies, too,” he remarked. “But it can get complicated.”
They were two strangers, Essie marveled. Two complete strangers having an intimate discussion about sex. “Complicated how?”
They rounded the corner of the block. “We pretend like emotions don’t get caught up in sex,” Woods said. “But they do. It’s hard to get around. If I have a girlfriend, or a wife, and I love her very much, and there’s a deep connection… I’m not going to share her with other men. That would destroy me. But…” He gave her a look like they were plotting a heist. “A woman you don’t know? A mutual fling? Something with a little roleplay? There’s enough emotional distance for it to be good for everyone.”
“I get that, but why the black card thing?”
“A fantasy is a fantasy, Essie. Some things are just really, really fun. So…” He mimicked pulling a mask on. “Masks, gloves, anonymity. They play a character, get into it, they’re not responsible for the emotions afterward.” He grinned at her. She could imagine him grinning the same way as she took off his clothes in front of him—hungry, lustful. “We get what we want, you get what you want.”
They rounded the next corner, turning back towards the coffee shop again. They would be back there shortly, and she would have to decide. She didn’t want to decide. She just wanted to keep walking and talking with this man.
“Can you explain to me how exactly this would happen? I’m not saying yes, I just want to hear a… I don’t know.”
He laughed. “You want to hear what a ‘regular day on the job’ looks like? You really want this to be a job interview, huh? Alright, let’s see if you hire me.” He cleared his throat. “So, you’ll pick a date and time. Most women pick nighttime. You tell us where you will be, and we’ll come pick you up.”
“Pick up?”
His voice downshifted, becoming low and stern. “We throw a hood on you, zip-tie your hands and feet together, and put you in the van.”
Oh God, why was that hot? “And then what?”
“We rent a hotel suite.” He looked around. “Yeah, it’s not too far from here. A hundred bucks to the desk guy, he lets us use the maintenance elevator. We carry you in, take you to the room and… Well, I won’t spoil the surprise.” His gaze pivoted from down the street to her. His eyes dragged down her body and then lifted back to her eyes. “Come on, Essie. You know exactly what will happen.”
I do. I’m not admitting it but I think I’ve already decided.
They ambled leisurely back to the coffee shop. She could see their table, still empty. They walked in amiable silence. Like they were coming from a pleasant brunch.
“How’d I do?” he asked suddenly.
“What?”
“All this,” he said, “this was better right? Much better than arriving in a limo or something and throwing a sex contract on a table, right? I can never decide if these things should be official and professional, or relaxed and approachable.”
“If you’d shown up in a suit with a briefcase, I would’ve thought I was getting taken by human traffickers.”
He did a fist pump, a boyish, innocent smile breaking across his face. “Yes! Cool! Good! I worry about it so much, this is the worst part. It’s so fucking awkward, but Levi is huge and that would freak people out. Owen is new and still shy about things so it’s on me.”
She’d forgotten about the other men. Their names hit the pool of emotions and caused ripples. Were the others like him at all? What would they think of her? “You’ll be there, right?” she asked. “You said you were there to make sure things didn’t go too far, does that mean you just, uh, watch?”
They were very close to the coffee shop now. She could see the dollar bills Wood’s had left on their table fluttering slightly in the wind.
Woods stopped her, catching her wrist lightly. He tilted her chin up to him and gazed coldly at her. The mirth faded from him so rapidly that it was frightening.
Her heart clenched and a pit of nervousness began working in her stomach. But she knew it was a test. He was seeing if she was a curious tourist getting an easy thrill or if she was actually going to follow through.
“Oh, I’m going to fuck you, Essie.” His face grew stern. “I’m going to do things to you that you’ll be thinking about every time you touch yourself for the rest of your life.” He let go and began walking away. She hurried to keep up. The coldness left him immediately. “Someone has to be the responsible one, though,” he said jovially.
They were at their table.
“That’s it,” he said. “That’s the whole pitch. If it sounds like something you want to try, you’ll get a text with a form to fill out. Safe words, stuff you want to do, don’t want to do, who to contact if there’s an emergency.” Now he sounded like a sales rep; like he was about to ask if she wanted the extended warranty.
“Wow, that’s really organized.”
He shrugged. “We operate on word of mouth, so we try to make sure things are pleasant for everyone.”
“And if I say I don’t want to do this?”
Woods smiled. “Then I ask that you give the card back. We only have a few.”
Had he said all this to Kara Gibson? Was he the same man around her? Was this chemistry something he was able to conjure for every woman, like some sort of deadly flower luring her in?
You called him. You’re worried his ulterior motive is sex? Isn’t that why you’re here? It’s simple. Do you want to fuck him, Essie?
Yes.
God, yes.
Essie held her phone out awkwardly, like she was waiting for it to ring. She let out a high, shrill laugh. “I guess I’ll wait for that text then!” She said it too loud, her laugh forced. Vaguely, she hoped a car would careen off the road and take out the entire cafe, ending this whole nervous nightmare.
Woods gave her a bemused grin. “Okay,” he said. “Make sure you fill everything out. I’ll see you soon.” He shook her hand, laughing again. “I never know if we’re supposed to hug or kiss or whatever after this part, it’s so weird. Bye!” He turned abruptly away. Essie remembered what he’d said about being nervous, too.
She watched him walk away. Just before he turned the corner, he stopped and patted the pockets of his jeans.
He was making sure he hadn’t forgotten his keys.