Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Romeo
"How would anyone find out?" I ask, before Ivy has a chance to reply. The truth is: I don't want to know how she'd react to her friends discovering my career.
It doesn't matter.
It's not a possibility.
"Everyone gets outed eventually, Rome," Sasha says. "We talked about this when we started—"
"Have you?" I ask.
Sasha folds her palms in her lap. "This isn't about me."
"If I can interrupt," Ivy says. "I'm not a good liar. If someone comes to me with evidence, I won't lie to them about it."
"You mean, you'll confess the relationship was fake?" Sasha asks.
"I won't bring it up. Or tell your family. Or answer any sort of direct question—though who would ask, 'are you really dating my brother'?"
"Daniel," Sasha and I say at the same time.
Ivy looks to me. "I'd be embarrassed, to have people know I paid for sex. That's true. But I wouldn't hide it."
"Woah, woah, woah. Hold the phone." Sasha throws her arm in the air. "Ivy is a client?" Sasha folds her arms. "You know our rules, Rome."
"We're not dating," I say. "And she’s not paying anymore. We have a business arrangement. Her pretend love for my—"
"Amazing dick?" Sasha rolls her eyes so hard I expect them to blast into space.
Ivy blushes. "I appreciate you trying to protect your friend, Sasha. That's what good friends do."
Sasha leans back, satisfied by her answer. " Daniel is going to see through this. How would you two have even met?"
"We don't have to construct an elaborate story," Ivy says. "We can tell the truth."
"You paid him to spice up your life?" Sasha asks.
"A friend set us up," I correct.
"We thought it would be a casual thing," Ivy says. "But it became more. It's not honest, but it is the truth."
"And how long have you been together?" Sasha asks.
"Two months," Ivy says.
"A year," I say.
Sasha looks between us and shakes her head. "How about I lead this?" She straights her posture, shifting into Domme mode. "I know a little more about creating a scene than you two do."
Ivy's laugh breaks the tension in her shoulders. "You use that a lot, don't you?"
"You have no idea," I say.
"How do you talk to people who don't know what you do?" Ivy asks.
"She doesn't," I say.
"This is not about me," Sasha says. "I'm very happy with everyone in my family knowing I'm single.
And employed in a boring corporate job with lots of travel.
" She clears her throat. "You two are the ones trying to sell some sort of story.
Now, I know why you're single, Rome." She doesn't say it's because no one wants to date a hooker or it's because you're afraid of intimacy.
She leaves both possibilities in the air. "But what about you, Ivy?"
"Well, uh…" All the lightness falls from Ivy's face.
The mood in the room shifts. The sunshine turns to storm clouds.
"I'm divorced. Things were difficult for a while.
A long time. I'm not sure what finally got me to say, it's over, but something did.
I moved out. We saw an arbiter. It's been official for about six months and I'm still… "
"You're not ready," Sasha says.
She nods. "I've tried to do the casual thing, but it hasn't worked well. I didn't feel safe with most of the guys I went on dates with. I still had sex with one of them, but it was… not great."
Sasha nods. "Men never get it. How much power they have over us, physically.
And god knows most men don't know what sort of sex a woman actually wants.
The great kissing, the anticipation, the cunnilingus.
They seem to think we're ready as soon as they take off their clothes and we'll come from five minutes of dick.
Not that I want ten minutes. Enough is enough already.
" Sasha shakes her head. "I guess it's a good thing for you, Rome. Or you'd be out of a job."
"I only have a job because most men are bad at sex?" I ask.
"Yes," Sasha says. “Of course. That's why you have a job."
"Do you have a job because most women are bad at sex?" My voice rises, despite my better judgment. This isn't a logical argument. And it's not one I ever win. Sasha and I have been over this a billion times. Neither of us ever backs down.
"No. I have a job because men treat most women like sex workers, and I was smart enough to demand money for it." Sasha folds her arms, holding firm. "Back me up, Ivy."
"I think we're getting off track," Ivy says.
"You do sound like a therapist!" Sasha exclaims.
"Do you two have this argument a lot?" Ivy asks.
Sasha and I trade a knowing look. We do have this argument a lot. Which is silly. Why am I standing up for men, in general? What do I know about the way other men fuck women?
"He won't give any ground," Sasha says.
"Why does that frustrate you?" Ivy asks.
"He's invalidating my experiences," Sasha says.
"And the women I know, too. The experience of being a woman.
It's scary sometimes. And it's frustrating, going into sex with a new guy knowing he probably won't have a clue what sort of sex I like.
Knowing he's going to expect the sex he likes.
Knowing he thinks that's the sex I like too, even though he doesn't ask. "
"You think all that?" I ask. Have I really been so firm in my position I haven’t given her space to express herself? Have I acted like my fucking brother, sure I’m always right, even about what’s best for other people?
"You never ask," Sasha says.
"I'm not trying to invalidate your experiences," I say. "I'm sorry."
"I'm not trying to say you're a bad lay, either. Or that you don't work hard at what you do. Only that there's an imbalance here," Sasha says.
I nod. "I should acknowledge that, but there are other imbalances between us. We don't talk about those."
"We could," she says.
"Okay," I say.
Sasha's composure breaks. Her expression softens. She moves off the couch and throws her arms around me. Then around Ivy. "Wow, you're good at this."
Ivy laughs. "No. That was you two. Most couples argue for three straight sessions before they see each other's point of view." She pauses, choosing her words carefully. "That's why I stopped seeing couples. I couldn't deal with the constant tension."
"That and the divorce," Sasha says, matter-of-factly. No one could accuse her of using kid gloves. "You probably didn't love counseling couples while your marriage was crumbling."
I shoot Sasha a don't look.
But Ivy shakes her head. "No. She's right." Ivy smooths her slacks. She studies her thumb for a long moment, then she looks to Sasha, connecting with her. "I had a lot of countertransference."
"You mean how people fall in love with their therapists?" Sasha asks.
Ivy nods. "Only on the therapist's end. " Her eyes go to her bare left hand.
She takes a minute to find the words to explain.
"So, uh, back to the question of how long we’ve been together…
If we talk about my divorce, I don't want anyone to think we had overlap.
I don't want people to whisper about me that way. "
"Of course," I say.
"We could say three months," Ivy says. "But no faster."
"And you two don't know a lot about each other," Sasha says. "You're more plausible as a new couple. Though you should really be touching more."
Ivy's cheeks flush. "You're right. It will help sell the ruse." Ivy turns to me. "Should we start now?"
"Yes," Sasha says. "Right now. Sit like you're together. Not like you, what, had sex once?"
My memories go to our night together. The feeling of her body against mine. A great night, but only one. “One night,” I admit.
"Depends on what you count as sex," Ivy says.
"I really like her." Sasha smiles. "Don't break her heart for real, okay?"
How would I begin to do that? Women don't get attached to my personality. They don't fall in love with Romeo, the man. They don’t even know him.
But then I'm supposed to drop the pretense here.
Which means for the first time in a long time, someone might actually see me.
That's scarier than anything.
What would I do if this was our second date? Well, our second date after sex.
I move a little closer. Let my thigh melt into hers.
She sinks into the gesture, looking up at me with a shy smile. "Hey."
"Hey." I say back.
Ivy lays her palm on my thigh.
I place my hand on top of hers.
"Oh, I was going for something much more indecent." A teasing tone drops into her voice. "But I suppose I shouldn't do that in front of your brother."
"That brings up a good question, actually," Sasha says.
"Let's face it. Daniel thinks you're a slut, Rome.
And he's right. The problem isn't his perception.
It's the judgment. But that judgment is something you can use to your advantage.
" She looks to me. "If he thinks Ivy is dick-struck, he won't be as doubtful about why she's around. "
"I'm not sure I can pull off dick-struck," Ivy answers diplomatically. "But I can do affectionate."
"We're together. We're having great sex. We enjoy each other's company. Can't it be that simple?" I ask.
"For your mom, sure. But Daniel? No way," Sasha says.
She's right. Daniel needs to see the logic. That's the sort of person he is.
"You'll need to talk to each other," Sasha says. "Make each other laugh. Have the same life goals. Where do you want to be in five years?"
Ivy bites her tongue.
I don't have an answer.
"I'll make a list of questions for you two to answer in the next two weeks." Sasha pulls out her smart phone and starts tapping. She goes through her list, slowly, giving us time to get used to each question.
It's all normal couple stuff. Where do you want to live? Do you want to get married? Perfect vacation spot? Kids or no kids?
A million questions I've avoided.
After twenty minutes, she sends the files to us, sets her phone down, and adopts a serious expression. "There's one more thing I need you two to do before I leave you to your evening."
"What's that?" I ask.
"Kiss. Kiss like you're madly in love."