Chapter 6 #2
Those last few words flew from her mouth in a flurry of frustration that Benson could only relate to all too well.
While he was quite comfortable in his career, he fretted for Drew’s.
Who am I to tell her not to major in Italian?
Nothing was guaranteed. Even if she followed in her father’s footsteps, the economic and political landscape might have changed so much in so little time that financial advisors like him were doomed.
I wouldn’t have said that five years ago.
“I shouldn’t have brought that up, huh…”
The image of his daughter dissipated from Benson’s mind. “Hm? Sorry. I was just thinking of something my daughter said.”
“Oh… I mean the resort. I shouldn’t bring it up.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s awkward.”
“I don’t think it’s awkward.”
“Well, I do.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. Besides, “Fair enough.”
That admittance changed the tone of their date, however.
For the next few minutes, they sat in near-silence, only occasionally making small talk over the lighting fixtures and the large paintings of Thai legends on the walls.
Benson didn’t know much about them; neither did Eden.
They were stuck trying not to look at their phones while waiting for their food.
I don’t want to look at my phone. Benson wanted to look at Eden.
But it wasn’t much fun if she was avoiding him because she was uncomfortable.
“I really want to say something,” he muttered, already regretting it, “but I’m afraid it’s going to come out wrong. One of those situations where it sounds great in my head, but you might take it the wrong way, and I’m over here killing myself over it.”
Eden slowly nodded as if she understood. “It’s about the whole situation of this, right?”
“Yes.”
“About how we didn’t exactly meet in the most organic of ways.”
“Yes.”
“And after a whole weekend of seeing me as nothing but a sexual object, you now have the chance to get to know the real me, and not only is that awkward…” Her voice went up as she guessed what she was thinking.
“You’re the type to just want to move on from that.
Start over. But not really, because we actually do know a lot about each other on a visceral level? ”
He opened his mouth to say Yes again. Except Eden cut him off, her chin in her hand as she matched his posture against the table and adopted the kind of delicate poise that completely threw a man like Benson Smith off his game.
“Like how I know some of your dirtiest kinks, sir.”
His teeth tapped together as he zipped his mouth shut again.
“To be fair, you know some of the things I’m willing to do. Like what I’m willing to do to make a living while I still have the body to do it.”
That’s one way to put it. “Yes.”
“Okay.” She pulled back, as if she had made up her mind. “So, we’ll just try our best to move on.”
“Perhaps we should first get the most awkward questions we have out of our systems.”
“Oh. Right. And if we’re still interested in each other after, it’s a good sign.”
The waiter brought over their curries. “Suppose so,” Benson said in between taking his red curry and thanking the waiter.
Once he confirmed that nothing else was required, the waiter left.
Benson picked up his fork while Eden did that thing Drew always did – she took a few photos of her immaculately plated food to save for later.
“You first,” he insisted.
Eden considered her food before putting her phone away. “Sure.” She thought about it while dribbling some pumpkin curry over her jasmine rice. “How often do you go to the island, anyway? It definitely wasn’t your first time.”
Benson had sworn that nothing she could have asked would embarrass him.
Yet there he was, dying inside because his date asked such a question.
One that would not only gauge his interest in that kind of atmosphere, but also how much money he spent on such excursions to the Caribbean.
It was a way to both suss out how much money he had at any given time and how he frivolously spent it on pussy. God damnit.
He would not lie, though. At this point in his life, there was no point.
Besides, Eden was definitely more perceptive than some other women her age, if only because of the work she had done.
I know exactly what to ask her back now.
She had dropped the proverbial gauntlet on the table. Time to get serious.
“A few times,” he confessed as he meticulously added the chicken and vegetables to his rice. He would refrain from taking a bite until he was done talking. “Over the past several years. They know me, and I know how it works there, but I’m far from their biggest repeat customer.”
“What’s the appeal for you? I mean, besides the obvious.”
“That's two questions.” He would humor her, though. “I’ve already revealed that I don’t sweat the small stuff.
I’ve always appreciated that a man who needs to let loose a little could show up and do exactly like that.
The rules make it clear what is and isn’t okay.
As I’ve gotten older and grown more of a conscience about these things, I also appreciate the added security and knowing the Butterflies are paid exceptionally well.
The ball looks like it’s in the court of the guests… ”
“It is,” Eden said.
“…But I’m not interested in the power play itself.
I know some events cater to those fantasies.
For me, consent is important. The structure of the island gives me the chance to fulfill some of my fantasies in a safe place, while I’m ensured the women fulfilling those fantasies are compensated for what they must put up with.
I don’t get off on the idea of anyone being hurt.
Besides, part of the reason I went at the last minute this season was because I really needed to get out of town. Get some sun. Get…”
“Laid?”
Finally, Benson cleared his throat and took a bite of food.
“Suppose that makes sense. All right.” Eden had arranged her food quite nicely before taking a single bite. “Your turn.”
His question was already locked and loaded. “How did you get a gig like that? Were you already in the industry?”
Eden hid her discomfort with her first bite. After exclaiming how good it was, she attempted to take the question seriously. “Not really,” she said, after dabbing her mouth with the napkin. “It was my first time doing something like that. It was a total fluke that I fell into it.”
“I was under the impression that most Butterflies are experienced in that line of work.”
“Most of them were, yes. See, one of my friends from college is in the industry and eventually got a gig as a hostess at The Dark Hour. I’m sure you know it.”
“Indeed.”
“I went a few times. I liked the atmosphere. One of the owners scouted me. Said she liked my look and inquired if I was looking for a part-time job that paid well.”
“She went straight to that?”
“Well, no. But it escalated quickly. My friend was part of the negotiation because I was such a newbie to actual sex work, and it came up that there was an opening for Butterflies at La Mariposa this year. My friend said I’d be perfect if I were interested.
Took some convincing, and I was definitely hesitant, but…
” Eden shrugged. “I was already intrigued by the concept when the number dropped. I couldn’t say no. ”
“I’d think most young women would balk.”
“I’ve done… adjacent sex work, I guess you could say. Like, I never thought of myself as an escort before last weekend, but I’ve had sugar daddies.” Suddenly, she struggled to look at him again. “Why am I telling you that?”
“Indeed. I am a sugar daddy age now.” Was that her interest in this?
Benson already assumed part of his appeal was his money, as displayed by his appearance at La Mariposa.
He would not be surprised if any young woman entertaining him began making kissy lips in exchange for rent and handbags.
I’m not interested in that. He didn’t mind helping out his lovers when he could, but he liked the idea of someone who could support themselves if necessary.
Even Sydney had her non-profit work that she segued into after the divorce.
Made me feel less guilty about my side of our problems. He could have asked for Drew full-time or thrown more money at the kid to ensure rent was paid and food was on the table, but Benson knew it was best for Drew if both of her parents could work and provide for her.
Sydney hadn’t even stopped working after remarrying.
I’ve got a type. And he didn’t mean physically.
Oh, he never meant physically. Those tastes were all over the place and completely dependent on the lover in question.
Sydney had been plenty attractive throughout their whole relationship, and Eden couldn’t look more different from her.
But she was absolutely, unequivocally the kind of woman that made Benson want to shove all the dishes and candles off the table and get on top of her right now.
He tossed his napkin in his lap, as if anyone would notice him getting semi-erect. Save it for later, kid.
“I didn’t expect to like it as much as I did, that’s for sure,” Eden said, sparing him a giggly smile that made him twitch again below the belt.
“Suppose the right person helped. You were…” Oh, there it was.
Sweet, pure joy flickering between her scrunching nose and curling lips.
“You were my first that weekend. You know what they say.”
“What?”
“You never forget your first.”
It was a good thing she had established she had been with other men out here off the island, because he might take that to mean she was a virgin. No, just her first guest as a Butterfly. He’d say it was an honor, but it was the wrong time for that.
“Here we are,” he said, “reminiscing about last weekend over Thai food.”
She seemed amused by that, which was his ticket to asking her softer questions, such as about her hometown, how long she had been in New England, and what she thought of the local clam chowder.
It’s better in Providence. Turned out, Eden didn’t like most seafood that wasn’t a straight fish. The clam chowder was lost on her here.
In turn, she asked about his daughter, what he liked to do during his downtime, and his favorite places he had traveled.
While these were all bog-standard questions for a proper first date, he appreciated her ability to keep the conversation flowing in between bites of dinner and acting like this was a relationship that was going anywhere beyond a few weeks of dithering around until they realized they didn’t have much else in common besides sex.
Not that I’m a pessimist. Jaded. That was a good word to describe Benson Smith at this point in his life.
They both had one drink besides water and finished their dinners with no leftovers.
After the waiter took their dishes away, Benson paid the check.
Eden did not offer, and he appreciated that they didn’t do that dance.
It was his point of view that if a man asked a woman out, he paid.
Then, at some point, you’re married, so it’s “our" money, anyway.
He supposed that was a bit old-fashioned. And while Benson didn’t always want to be old-fashioned, this was one area where he didn’t mind one bit.
Just like the next part.
“I only live a few blocks from here,” he announced when she came back from the restroom at the end of the meal. “I’ve got my car. I can take you home.”
“Whose home?”
Benson was so caught off guard by that question and the quizzical look on her face that he didn’t answer at first. “I suppose it doesn't matter. I could drop you off at your place. Or…”
“You’re inviting me back to your place.”
“Fuck,” he said with a large sigh. “I can’t wait until this date is over and we've made it to the end of the very fucking awkward stage of silences and conversations that dance around what we’re both thinking.”
She cocked her head. “What are we both thinking?”
It was an invitation to flirt. Or be seductive. Sometimes, it was hard for Benson to tell the tenuous difference between the two – especially when it all led to the same place. My bed.
“There was only one thing I wanted from you last weekend that you couldn’t give me,” he said, catching her gaze so she would see how serious he was. “Staying the night with me.”
The corner of her mouth slightly twitched as she vainly attempted to hide a flattered smile. “Those rules don’t apply anymore, do they?”
“No, they don’t, Eden Hailstone.”
He used her real name to remind her that this wasn’t La Mariposa.
They were beyond their code names now. I know your hometown and that you used to have sugar daddies.
You know I went to Brown and have a daughter.
Things that could have gotten them into serious trouble on La Mariposa, where anonymity was almost more sacred than what happened to each other’s bodies.
“They sure don’t, Benson Smith.”
She donned her coat before getting up.
“Your place.” She waited for him to get moving, too. “For a nightcap. We’ll see where it goes from there.”
Somehow, not knowing that sex was guaranteed made taking her home even more exciting.