TWO Panty-Melting Fantasy
SADIE: DECEMBER—PRESENTDAY
I raise the fingers on my left side to scratch at a place on my chin, but when the cinched-up claw of flesh that used to be my hand doesn’t respond like it should, I have to switch to my right. You’d think after living with these injuries for so long that I’d remember. Yet even now after years of physical and occupational therapy, sometimes, my body still believes I’m a lefty.
It’s a real pain in my ass.
Dragging my thick puffy down coat from the nearby closet, I open up the side-by-side double doors at the front of this chalet. The icy winter breeze that zips through my bad hand has me stuffing it into my pocket for protection.
Ever since waking up in the ICU, I’ve experienced a hell of lot more sensitivity to extreme temperatures, and despite the lack of sensation in the hand itself, I still shiver.
The three men standing grouped together outside on the circle drive are any normal young woman’s panty-melting fantasy. And while I might match the other criteria, I can’t claim to be normal. Not since my appearance now singles me out as anything but.
I regard the men as they disembark from the army-green Toyota Sequoia with knobby tires I bought. This part of the Northeast believes in practicality over flashiness, and I’m thankful for it. Wearing high-end styles and riding in limos are more prevalent at home in Boston.
But here, the terrain and common-sense values of the New Hampshirites dictate behavior far more than whatever new toy or outfit celebrities and socialites are indulging in.
Still, the Starlight Chalet, my family’s vacation home, is anything but uncomfortable. It might have a roughhewn cedar exterior—the reminiscent scent of it awakens my childhood memories as I inhale—but its expansive layout and plush furnishings still place its residents in the lap of luxury. My parents spared no expense.
Nerves shouldn’t be an issue since I selected each of these men, yet the butterflies attacking my stomach lining like miniature kamikazes must not have received the memo.
Or maybe they have.
Because I’ve met my chosen trio already, even went so far as to go on individual outings with each of them. Therefore, they’re aware of my burns. They’ve seen the patchwork of scars spreading over the left side of my face and neck. And they couldn’t have missed the drawn-up nature of my wrist and hand or the discolored flesh covering them.
But even if I should feel confident that they didn’t turn down this job because of how I look, I’m not.
Mainly because none of them have been exposed to the full extent of the damage. If I’m to get to know them and attempt to find at least one to conduct a romantic relationship with, they’ll have to accept my body as-is.
Yet my body as-is isn’t for the faint of heart.
It doesn’t help that these men are literal specimens who are at their physical peaks. Although this means they’re easy on the eyes, that only increases my anxiety and trepidation about going forward. In fact, I’m downright queasy over it.
Not that they’ll ever know.
Not when I configure my features into the blandest and most inscrutable mask in my arsenal. It’s a skill I had to acquire even before my appearance became like something out of a horror movie, or I found gallows humor to be a necessity. Aloofness. Disinterest. That’s the public face I most often present to the world.
I realize that these men are here at my convenience. They’re here to serve me.
But the niggling saboteur at the back of my brain keeps reminding me of why. That they’ve only agreed to be with me because I’m paying for the privilege.
That’s right. The reason these men are here at all is because I’ve hired them.
When you can’t get men to date you through more traditional channels, sometimes, if you know where to go on the good ole internet, you can buy their time and attention.
Or at least, that’s what I did.
Bizarrely enough, the internet channel I purchased them through is my own creation. These men are freelancing contractors through Elegance, the site for the finest male escorts on the deep web. I built it, branded it, and continue to maintain it to this day.
Not that the men approaching me know that. They may never know that.
I keep my carefully contrived mask in place as the first of the contractors, Jerome Oakley, finishes unloading his bags and heads over to me. The exquisite jade of his irises is highlighted by the rich darkness of his African American skin, and like the other two, he’s got the devastatingly gorgeous thing on lock.
“Sadie,” he says as naturally as someone who’s known me forever. “Great to see you again, girl.” Perhaps due to his arms being occupied or simply due to choice, he leans in and gives my left cheek, the one blemished by scar tissue, a quick peck. It’s over before it begins, but I blink at him regardless. By how laid-back he seems when doing it.
But then, as an actor, the guy can probably take personas on and off like most of us do socks and underwear. Even if all his acting has been within the confines of the adult film genre.
I keep my greeting straight to the point. “I’ve assigned you all rooms in the east wing. It’s on the second-floor corridor to your right.”
He grins, bobbing his head, and sweeps in. Zach Neihaus is next, his gait smooth and unaffected despite the surgeries I know he’s had on both knees. While Jerome wore a fleece-lined denim jacket, Zach is wearing a much longer wool coat, even if it’s a bit frayed along the edges.
The lone fair-haired guy, the sun bounces off the curls of that honey-blond mop and makes it shine.
“Hey, there she is,” Zach announces himself, the cobalt of his eyes bright, not slowed down despite being encumbered by more bags than Jerome. The grace and strength of an athlete is in his every movement. “That coat suits you.”
Apparently, in addition to being a former ballet dancer and Fans4You hit, Zach is also a flatterer. My coat is a bright teal blue suitable for skiing. Such colors are preferred on the mountain just in case—God forbid—a search party has to track you down. So, I simply nod at him and reiterate the same instructions I imparted to Jerome.
My focus next centers on the third participant, the only man who almost canceled on me.
Of my three prospects, the one I’ve learned the most about is Dom Adrian. During our initial get-together, I felt like I understood him the least, likely because I’d been all about controlling the date. The times and places. Making sure the kiss I asked from him went far enough but not too far.
Maybe due to Dom being first in the lineup, I rushed him around more than the others. I probably came across to him like some neurotic bitch, not that he accused me of such.
But I know it wasn’t my finest hour.
Still, he possesses the traits I’ve been searching for. Attractiveness. Cordiality. Then, there was what happened during our one and only kiss. The chemistry between us awakened something inside me I believed had gone dormant. He also had this enigmatic air about him. While he’d been straightforward about his past as a prostitute, his overall seriousness made me think his choice of occupation must be only the tip of his personal iceberg.
That became even clearer two days after I made my official offer to the three men through the Elegance site.
From: Elegance, the Finest of Male Escort Services
To: Dominic Adrian, Jerome Oakley, and Zachary Neihaus
Client Sadie Vincent invites you to the Starlight Chalet, a private residence in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Please see attached images of the property for reference. If you accept, you will reside with her for a contracted period of ninety days. During that time, you will be expected to complete a series of tasks for her to the best of your ability.
All such tasks are to be determined.
Based on task completion, compatibility, and overall chemistry, the client will decide which of you she would like to become her long-term companion. Her chosen contractor will receive a longer-range contract with an annual wage of $250,000, as well as many other privileges to be announced at a later date.
Every contractor who agrees to the terms and successfully fulfills them to the client’s satisfaction will be given a lump sum payment in the amount of $75,000 at the end of the ninety days. Each contractor will also receive a stipend of $2,400 a week to mitigate any expenses that may occur.
As a contractor, you are encouraged to apply personal touches and a unique approach that will help you stand out.
For questions or concerns, reply to this email, or simply hit the I ACCEPT button below. An itinerary, travel arrangements, and other details will be sent if you do.
Thank you,
Elegance Administrators
While Jerome and Zach each accepted without issue, from Dom, I received the following internally bot-generated message in my inbox.
To Sadie Vincent:
Contractor Dominic Adrian has rejected your offer. A personal message is included below:
Sadie,
I’d like to take you up on this gig, but that kind of uninterrupted time away won’t work for me. It’s too bad because I was looking forward to the stability of that type of job.
Sorry,
Dom
Fortunately, since I’m the one who designed the site all the way down to every line of code, I was able to put his cancellation on hold. When I reached out to Dom, I made sure to contact him through the site to keep my connection to Elegance hidden.
To Dominic Adrian:
Client Sadie Vincent is requesting more information. A personal message is included below:
Dom,
Please state why this time away is unacceptable. Is it the specific dates on the calendar or something else?
Sadie
His answer came in after nearly an hour.
For personal reasons, I can’t be gone for that long.
I inquired back.
What personal reasons, if you don’t mind my asking?
After some back and forth, he eventually divulged what was troubling him.
My eighteen-year-old sister requires around-the-clock supervision because she’s deaf and developmentally disabled. And yeah, she lives in an adult care home, but she’s used to seeing me every day or two. I’m the only family she has and can’t just up and disappear on her like that.
My chest ached as I reread the phrase, “only family she has.” No one knows better than I do what it’s like to lose those near and dear. Taking a crucial family member away—even temporarily—from someone who has a limited capacity to comprehend why is unconscionable to me.
I pondered what to do for several long minutes.
I could’ve offered to send him home every weekend, but that would’ve limited our time together. So much so that I might not have been able to make a fair analysis of how compatible Dom and I are. It would leave him at a disadvantage when stacked up against the other contenders.
What I ultimately came up with was a minor modification.
What if you were able to make a Zoom call to her as often as you’d like? I could make certain that you’d have the free time available to do that.
He didn’t get back to me for an entire twenty-four hours, but he did finally respond.
That might work. I’ve talked to the home about it. Can I say yes now with the option to change my mind later?
What else could I do but agree?
Yet despite all the negotiating we did over email, all he gives me as he advances forward is a slow lift of his chin. This momentarily throws the bump along the bridge of his nose into sharp relief. Maybe at some point I’ll get brave enough to ask him how he broke it. I let my mask slip a bit.
“Trip okay?”
“Yes, ma’am, uh Sadie. Thank you.”
I noticed this about him before, too, his tendency to go overboard on the manners. Ironically, of all of us, he has the thickest Bostonian accent. I only avoided it due to my parents insisting I cultivate a voice with as little accent as possible. It’d been something they’d each had to erase as news broadcasters.
“Jerome and Zach are on their way upstairs. Your rooms are on the right. Choose whichever one you’d like, though the other two may have already made their decisions.”
He shrugs. “I can sleep anywhere.”
And with that, he holds the door of my own home open for me, and our three-month-long experiment begins.