FOUR Modus Operandi
JEROME
Thus far, the two men I’ve been situated with seem like opposites. Zach Neihaus is a talker, and Dom, the quiet type. Maybe. It’s a little early to tell. We’re each feeling the other out, and if I’m not mistaken, Dom has been distracted, so who knows if this is his typical modus operandi or not.
So, as my dad would say, Imma sit back and observe, finding out who’s who and what’s what.
Keeping an ear to the ground and an eye in the sky is always a wise decision, anyway.
Sadie’s not the most verbose, either. Although at the moment, she’s ahead in how much she’s spoken to us compared to Dom. Right now, Zach is going on and on about... I believe it’s coleslaw of all things.
“So, it’s slivers of red onion, broccoli, carrots, and fermented cabbage in this tangy vinaigrette. It’s low-carb and super good for your gut. I’ll make it for you sometime. It’s the one thing I can cook that doesn’t come from a box or the freezer section.”
Wow. I mean, the way to a woman’s heart might be her stomach, but coleslaw? Really? At least I can say the guy’s using a rare approach. Watching Sadie’s eyebrows furrow and release as the rest of her face stays passive is somewhat entertaining.
I can tell that Zach is the youngest just by looking at him. Not that he’s immature from what I can tell, just green. Inexperienced. And though I don’t want to compare myself to him too much, it bodes well for me to have more of what a lady wants.
Particularly, this lady.
Sadie’s lips haven’t so much as tipped upward while listening to Zach, but then, I haven’t noticed her emoting much in general. Or at all, if I’m honest. I’d like to change that. Most women love men with a sense of humor, so making her laugh—or at least crack a grin—is essential to winning this thing overall.
With her attention on Zach, I take this opportunity to catalogue the scars along her face, neck, and left arm.
Not much of her arm is visible beneath that sweater she’s wearing, but there’s obviously damage there, too. I don’t know any specifics about what caused her injuries, but it must’ve been painful.
Traumatizing.
I think back to our first date in Boston when she’d asked me about how I would relax and comfort her. I’d described bathing her, and she’d been onboard until I mentioned helping her into the tub.
That’s when she snapped like a cheap condom. Her voice, her posture, her face—all of it— had altered. Morphed. From someone curious and willing to test things out to a spitting cobra trapped in a corner.
I’d talked her down by letting her know that I help all my clients into the bath, but the woman has some hot buttons. And since they’re not residing where most people keep theirs, it’s easy to bump into one by accident.
Yet I enjoy puzzling things out about people, and Sadie Vincent is a mystery I’m dying to solve. That’s why I deflect the conversation away from vinegary side dishes.
“So, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow?”
Her gaze switches from the tasty lemon and sage chicken she’s barely touched to zero in on me like a missile. The only thing she’s consumed much of is a glass of what appears to be orange juice. “You’ll all be exploring and prepping for your first assignment.”
I half expect Zach to start babbling about coleslaw again, but he doesn’t. It’s good to know he won’t always be stuck in nonstop chat mode.
“I’d like all of you to plan out a date you’ll take me on individually,” she continues, rising to her feet with her mostly full plate in her good hand. “The only limitation is that is has to be inside the chalet. Stepping foot outdoors is out of bounds for this round.
“Tell Maxine once you’re ready. She’s the house manager and is here Monday through Friday. She’s in charge of meal-prep and scheduling. Just steer clear of the room in the north wing with the bright yellow door and crystal doorknob. Goodnight.”
Sadie backs away from the table, disappears into the kitchen, then strides by without making eye contact with us again. As she steps onto the stairs, her gait is noticeably unsteady and off-balance until she grips onto the railing. I don’t remember her struggling this much back in Boston, although my time with her was limited.
Maybe she’s just stiff from making the trip.
Not that I’ll ask. This isn’t the time to pry.
Silence blankets the dining area in her absence. At least until Dom starts to shoveling food into his mouth like we’re about to enter the zombie apocalypse.
I can’t help my chuckle. “Hungry?”
He casts me a wordless nod, and I absorb something odd. While the man is gobbling away, he waited until he’d sliced his chicken into squares so perfect they could’ve been measured by a ruler. He’s got a regular grid going on over there, complete with what might even be an x and y axis.
Damn.
“Why are you doing that?” Zach must’ve noticed the same thing I did.
“What?” Dom asks once his mouth is no longer full.
“Cutting your dinner up like that?”
Dom shrugs. If this was in-between takes on set, I would initiate some bullshit sessions to get to know these guys. I find people’s backstories fascinating. One of my fellow porn stars decided to do adult films after his legit acting career didn’t take off. Another did it because his ex-girlfriend dared him to. I even knew a man who did it while married with kids.
“Doesn’t this bug your wife?” I asked him once, both of us standing there naked as the day we were born in preparation for a menage scene.
“No, man. She’s cool with it as long as I’m being a solid provider and wear protection every single time.”
To each their own, I guess.
This isn’t the same scenario, but Sadie hasn’t instituted any rule about not sharing communication with our opposing teammates. So, what’s the harm in a bit of digging?
“It’s nice in here,” I gesture with my empty fork. “Upscale. Looks like it’s gonna be a cushy few months. This is my first time in New Hampshire.” I casually take another bite and swallow. “How ‘bout you two?”
“Been leaf peeping in Vermont but never here,” Zach volunteers.
We each peer at the other guy who’s just gulped down the last of his food, but he spends an inordinate amount of time killing off his beer and straightening his table linens. Zach and I keep blinking at Dom, but all we get is crickets.
But I know just the thing to get the ball rolling.
“I started with Elegance just a few months ago after doing a decade of porn.”
Zach nearly spits out his food. “Wow, son, never saw that coming.”
“Don’t know why,” I tell him, keeping my tone mild. “Elegance is a site for sex work.”
To be fair, freelancing contractors don’t have access to other contractor’s profiles, only prospective clients do.
“Yeah, I get that, but the closest thing I’ve ever done to this is go viral on Fans4You.” Those youthful features of his cloud over like a building storm. “I’m a dancer by trade.”
“Exotic?” I surmise.
“Ballet, actually. At least originally. Even made it to the Broadway circuit.”
“What happened?” This issues from Dom, his voice so deep I bet he could do a wicked Sly Stallone impression. Dom even sort of resembles the younger version of him.
Zach doesn’t miss a beat.
“Tore my ACLs.”
“What? Both of them?” I ask. Fuck, I hope not. That would make him about the unluckiest son of a bitch in the world. For once, instead of speaking up, Zach touches a finger to the tip of his nose. “Damn. Bet that put you out of commission for a while.”
“From ballet? Oh, yeah. I can get around fine, but all that high-impact stuff had to end. That’s why I’m here.” Zach wears a self-deprecating smirk, and now that he’s not droning on as if to hear his own voice, I can actually empathize with the guy.
“Fans4You?” Dom inquires, a man of few words.
“That was my bitchy ex’s idea. So was the pole dancing, so credit where credit is due. That sort of workout is great for flexibility and fitness without overexerting my knees, you know? But she uh...”
Zach crushes the skin over his trapezius muscle between his palm and his fingers as if trying to give himself a Vulcan neck pinch. “She convinced me to go on her Fans4You page with her so she could win views for having sex while on the pole.”
Dom mutters something I think is, “Mother of fuck,” under his breath.
“Did you get the views?” I have to know.
“Oh, yeah. Over a million. Fucking Braelynn—that’s her name—promised me half the profits.”
“Let me guess,” I interject. “When it came down to it, she didn’t give you a dime.”
“You called it.” Zach sounds about as grim as I’ve heard him yet.
“There are worse things than banging for bucks,” Dom says, with all the gravity of someone who has subjected himself to those worse things. “Trust me.”
There’s a story there, I know. But I have a feeling that he’s not the open-as-a-book type that Zach is.
“Truth,” I agree. “Adult films treated me extra nice for a while.”
“Then why do this?” Zach inquires of me.
While I’m not gonna wax poetic about coming multiple times throughout the day in my early twenties—the age I suspect he is—I have no problem being candid. I count out my reasons one by one.
“More control. No assholes demanding me to be violent to women in a scene. No double doses of Viagra to keep myself hard for ten hours straight.”
“Ten hours?” Zach gasps as if I just socked him in the stomach. “Fuck me.”
Even Dom is wide-eyed and pooching out his bottom lip as if horrified.
“Started wondering what this might do to me as I grew older,” I go on. “What if I take so much that I become resistant to it in my elder years when I actually need it? Or what if it’s bad for younger guys to begin with?”
“They make you take that shit?” Dom asks.
“You kinda have to. I mean, you’re literally required to come on camera as often as double digits daily. Even with making sure I ate a healthy diet and stayed hydrated, there’s only so much my cock can take.”
My revelation washes over my companions for a lengthy minute before Zach turns to Dom. “You said you banged for bucks, too?”
“We all bang for bucks. That’s what we’re here to do,” Dom corrects him.
“Yeah, but I mean before. Or have you been with Elegance all along?”
“I used to be a carpenter. When that quit paying the bills, I became a prostitute. Elegance is a slightly classier and more regular version of that.”
That’s one way to look at it, I suppose.
Dom stands, polished-off plate in hand, his dark eyes assessing our surroundings as if this is the first time he’s witnessing it. This chalet is a gigantic structure. Zach and I follow suit, and even though we don’t specifically agree to do this, we all wind up wandering around the first floor as more or less a group.
Unlike the second floor, which from what I can tell is primarily sleeping quarters, the rooms down here are far more diverse. The kitchen is one that’s tricked out with this old-fashioned farmhouse sink and cast-iron cookware hanging over the island in the middle. There are exposed beams along the ceiling, pristine white cabinets, and marble countertops.
From there we stumble on a gym complete with treadmills and weight machines, a pool room with darts, a spa area with massage tables as well as a stripper pole which must be inspired by Zach. There’s a home theater, and an old-school arcade full of vintage eighties-style video game consoles.
My personal favorite, though, is an in-home library on one end that extends up to both stories. I leave the other men behind as I run a finger along several of the spines, finding the books separated and labeled by genre. The place even has one of those rolling ladders built into the shelving.
For a bibliophile like me, it’s a dream come true.
I wonder if Sadie is a reader, too.
And just like that, I have a plan for our date.