Isaac #2
“It’s more like when you spend enough time treating sex as a job, as an obligation, sex starts to lose its appeal,” I said, leaving it at that.
That probably was the place to explain that when it came down to it, sex didn’t just hold no appeal; it was abhorrent.
It was precisely that realization that had pushed me to stop taking clients and start considering what to do with my life.
It had been damn good money by the end, especially with a line of regulars who weren’t afraid to hire me whenever they needed company. I was doing quite well for myself.
But the question that had dawned on me was; what was the point of making all that money if it was going to ruin part of my life?
A part of my life that would one day become an important facet of any relationship I might have.
Sex wasn’t the end-all be-all of a relationship.
Still, it was vital, and if I lost interest in sex and ended up finding it abhorrent, then any future romantic relationships would start off limping out of the gate.
It might have been one thing if it had changed my desire for sex, but it didn’t.
So what happened when you still technically wanted sex but were simultaneously bored and disgusted by it?
I wasn’t really sure, actually, and I wasn’t keen on finding out. ..well, no more than I already had.
“Well, either way, that’s something you can do if you want,” he said with a shrug.
“And, I know you said you have no interest, but if you do find your interest again and find someone here you’re willing to sleep with, go ahead and drop by the medical ward.
There are free, uh, supplies for anyone to grab without anyone watching, and no cameras. Discretion still exists around here.”
“Thanks,” I said, as I looked around the room, one corner dominated by the kitchenette and a small fridge and coffeemaker.
Another corner housed a sitting area with a couch, a chair, tables, and shelves that were currently empty.
There was a small table and chairs in the center of the room.
And then there was a bed in another alcove in the opposite corner, shelves against , and drawers beneath it.
Another doorway led to what I suspected was the bathroom, which I had been told had a standing shower, so I didn’t have to bathe publicly if I didn’t want to.
“It’s probably in poor taste to say this feels more like a long-term hotel suite than it does a room at a wellness resort. ”
“Have you been to many wellness resorts?”
“No, I can’t say I have.”
“Yeah, me neither,” he said with a shrug. “I was just wondering if you knew, to make the comparison.”
“I don’t,” I admitted as I stepped over to the bathroom door and peered in.
It wasn’t nearly as huge as some of the bathrooms I’d seen, that was for sure, but it was perfectly sized for a single person’s needs.
Habit made me glance at the mirror and check myself over.
You didn’t do the job I’d been doing diligently for years without being conscious of how you looked.
My pitch-black hair had grown a little longer than I usually allowed it to get, the tips now brushing the tops of my ears.
There were dark circles under my green eyes, but that was to be expected.
I wasn’t fond of traveling because it took forever, and I could never sleep in any vehicle, not even a plane.
Once upon a time, I had been thin, young-looking, and able to attract attention by virtue of my age and good features.
Not that I had much difficulty attracting attention nowadays either, but gone were the days of being lithe and skinny.
My early twenties filled my body out. I’d been a late bloomer, so it wasn’t until my twenties that I had shoulders that could fill clothes properly.
I’d gained a few inches, though I’d swear most of it was in my torso.
After that, it was a case of making sure I took care of my body through exercise and trying to eat halfway decent food to put some muscle on, so I didn’t look like a broad-shouldered twig.
I supposed it didn’t really matter what I looked like while I was here, which should have come as a relief.
Instead, the idea was...weird. There hadn’t been a day for a few years where I didn’t make sure I was at least put together, if not looking my best. I could get away with not doing my hair in the mornings, walking around in pajama pants and shirts, but, eh, maybe one day while here I would feel that comfortable, but today was not that day, that was for sure.
“So,” Luka began, and I turned to see he was still standing near the door, watching me.
“It’s up to you what happens next. If you want to settle in for a day, go right ahead.
If you want to roam around or get introduced, that’s fine too.
Really, you can do what you want. I can even leave you alone. ”
“I don’t know what I want,” I said with a laugh. “That’s half the reason I’m here.”
“And the other half?”
“A mishmash, jumbled up. Sometimes linked, sometimes not.”
“Huh,” he said, looking at me. “Your self-awareness is on point.”
I chuckled. “That so?”
“I guess that explains why you’re in the Recuperation program and not…Recovery.”
“Honestly,” I said, closing the bathroom door and walking the perimeter of the room slowly. “The application process for Arete wasn’t helpful about what each program does. I signed up for what I thought fit best, and when I arrived, they agreed.”
“Recuperation is for people like you, who need some help but mostly just need to, well, recuperate from the world. Rest is like a vacation, but with access to all the facilities we offer. Recovery is for people to get a lot more focus from the staff, if they’ll accept it.”
I stopped at the coffee machine, looking at it. “Sounds like there are exceptions even to that rule.”
“There’s not a lot of rules,” he said with a laugh. “But, yeah, some guests, and you’ll meet them, have been in Recovery for a while. If they don’t respond to the guiding part of the program, we dial that back. We’ve got a few long-timers who don’t have a Guide anymore.”
I turned to him. “And me?”
“We offer Guides to first timers in all programs. In Recuperation, they're not expected to be as hands-on. Think of me less as a walking therapist, and more as a potential friend.”
“My own specially assigned friend.”
He grinned. “Something like that. I mean, it would be the same if I was assigned to a Recovery guest, but then I’m there to guide them more.”
“How specific and not confusing at all,” I said with a snort.
“Yeah, well, that’s Arete for you. As much as Reggie tries to bring order, he also gives plenty of freedom. It can be hard to navigate.”
I could see that easily. Even when people despised rules or order, most thrived when they understood where the lines were.
Arete seemed to operate on a mix of freedom and rules, and I suspected that, although it was a little confusing to me, it could be frustrating for someone like Luka.
Then again, I was just a guest, but he wasan employee.
He needed to know what was allowed more than I did.
“Speaking of order,” I said, glancing at the computer panel by the door. “Reggie mentioned I can set up a schedule in the system. It would feel more familiar.”
“I can’t tell if you want familiar or something new.”
“Hmm, nor can I.”
He looked uncertain, and I had to remember that this was only his second time being someone’s Guide, and it hadn’t been hard to figure out that his first might not have been the smoothest. I smiled.
“You don’t have to fret about handling me ‘just right.’ I know how hard it can be.
Doesn’t help that you’re dealing with someone trained not to show what’s going on in their head. ”
Luka cocked his head. “You were trained for that?”
“Through experience, not literal training,” I explained. “When people hire someone like me, they’re looking for an experience; usually a specific one. They’re not looking to get to know me or learn what I’m really like.”
“So they want you to pretend?”
“Oh, most of them wouldn’t actually say that, of course.
Most people don’t want to look as though they’re demanding I lie for their benefit, or to make them feel better.
That would be embarrassing, and even to an escort, that seems like an unfair demand,” I chuckled.
“But deep down, that’s what they’re saying.
They want someone to say all the right things, behave in all the right ways, to feed the illusion they’re paying for. ”
“And that didn’t bother you?”
“If it hadn’t eventually bothered me, I wouldn’t have ended up in a place like this.”
“Well, that makes a lot of sense.”
“I try.”
“So, was it the pretending that got to you?”
“Yes...and no.”
He laughed a little. “That’s about as clear as mud.”
I grinned. “Put it this way; I would have left the job a lot sooner if I’d had to be myself constantly.”
“I...okay?” he said, clearly confused but apparently not wanting to pry.
Even though explaining it wasn’t something I wanted to do, I couldn’t help but take pity on him when he was trying to do his job.
“At its most basic, my job was...selling myself. But to be myself while slapping a price on who I am as a person is...well, I’m sure you can figure out how that eventually takes its toll.
But if I’m selling an idea, a persona? Well, then what I’m selling isn’t so much myself but my ability to be whoever or whatever someone else needs. ”
“Hmm, I guess it would be rough, constantly attributing a dollar amount to who you are,” he said slowly. “So, pretending to be what they needed or wanted was a way to protect yourself from going crazy at being constantly rated and evaluated.”
“Basically, yes.”