Chapter 10 #2
“I’m hiring an expert to…” I hunch my shoulders and pace my next words, “bang the awkward out of me.” Oh wow, Mia.
Great phrasing. I hide my face in my hands, elbows braced on my knees.
“Please don’t try to change my mind. It’s embarrassing and I don’t want to talk about it. Sharing this was hard enough.”
I turn to her, eyes begging. “I’m not like you, Callie. Wish I was. You’re freaking gorgeous and so damn confident. I can’t flirt. I can’t do small talk. I was in awe of you tonight. If you ever give classes on how to turn that many heads at once, I’m enrolling. But that’s not me.”
The pity in her eyes makes me face the bottle in front of us.
“My previous experiences sucked. Guys were in and out, literally.” The sound that leaves my mouth should be cataloged as the saddest laugh in the world.
“They were embarrassed to be seen with me out of the bedroom. I guess I was nothing more than a warm hole.”
I straighten my posture and tell her what I’ve told myself so many times, I’m utterly convinced now. “So I’m hiring a professional, no strings attached, who will teach me how to be sexy, how to be great in bed—
“Not great. A sex goddess,” she cuts me off with a finger in the air.
“Damn right, a sex goddess.” Oh great, the liquid courage has turned into delulu serum. “I’ll get laid so much in these three months, I’ll gain the confidence I’ve always lacked.” It makes more sense every time I tell myself this.
“I don’t get it. Is that a cultural thing for you Londoners?” I see where she’s going and crack up into a fit of giggles, trying to keep it down enough not to wake Preston up. “Or did Liam’s bad habits rub off on you?” she adds. “Why do you guys get off on hiring hookers?”
That does it. I dissolve into quiet laughter, clutching my stomach as tears well up and spill down my cheeks. I’m wheezing. Actually wheezing.
“Hey, this is completely different to what Liam used to do,” I say in-between snorts.
“It’ll be a one-off thing, albeit in a long-term contract.
I want it to be unattached. Clean. Professional.
I’ll brief the guy exactly what my needs are.
I thought this through, Callie. I have a whole syllabus of things I want to learn.
How to give head. How to enjoy anal—if such a thing is even possible.
” I let out a laugh that sounds a little too high, a little too forced.
“How to ask for what I want. Out loud. Like a grown-up. Or at least like a semi-drunk adult with courage and a safe word.” I cringe into my drink before forcing myself to keep going.
“I’ve typed down a comprehensive list. Of what I want to do.
Of what I want done to me.” I groan. “It’s basically a step-by-step guide for beginners.
A Sex for Dummies handout, if you must.”
Callie lifts a hand. “Stop. You’ve just described a luxury sex package. That’s not educational, Mia. And that already exists. It’s a high-end service where the guy gets to live out one of his fantasies, not just stick it in a hole. You’re just switching the roles. Hey, I can rhyme!”
She’s right. She’s drunk, but right. I realized that as soon as the words left my mouth.
I groan, pressing my face into my palms. “Urgh, Callie. Can you not make me second-guess it? Just let me have this.” My list is pages long. I’ve worked so hard on it.
“No can do, babes. As your instant-soulmate and new best friend, it’s my sacred obligation to stop you from doing stupid shit.”
“Wow, Callie. Thanks,” I deadpan. “I’m so glad I confided in you.”
“Brutal honesty is part of the package deal when you roll with me. No need to thank me. This is how I stop you from making the worst decision of your adult life. I’ll save you from hiring a man-whore to teach you how to fuck.”
I give her the deadliest stare known to mankind. “Callie, we literally met today.”
“That’s how strongly I feel about this.”
Oh, here we go.
I flop down on the sofa cushions and toss a throw pillow between us. It’s my conversational airbag. “Hey, feminist,” I tease, “ever heard of ‘my body, my choice’?”
“You’re not pregnant. You’re trying to hire a man-whore to—what was it again? ‘Bang the awkward out of you’?” She refills both our glasses, as if that will help either of our arguments.
I drink it anyway and take another shot at convincing her.
“I’m in a new country. For a limited time.
When else am I going to have the chance to go from ‘oops, what do I do with this’ in bed to a confident woman who knows how to satisfy a man?
” God, that sounded pitiful even to my ears.
“Back home, I’m ‘the reliable one’, the planner, the friend who holds the purses while everyone else gets chosen.
” I finish my drink. “Here I get to do this anonymous wild thing that is only for me.”
She watches me, sadness apparently sobering her up.
“This is not something I’ve been wondering about, Callie.
I’ve put a lot of research into this. I looked up male escorts in New York.
Found the perfect agency, emailed them before I flew to the States and already have the contract in hand.
All that’s left to do is choose the guy and set a meeting to see if there’s enough chemistry to book a… date.”
At first, she doesn’t say anything. Just stares at me.
Come on, I don’t sound that unhinged.
Fine, a little bit. I’m just… very enthusiastic. And detailed-oriented. Or so I’ve been told.
“I want to do this in a safe, no-pressure environment—where the guy doesn’t have expectations, and I don’t feel judged, already bracing to fail.”
Callie stills, watching me closely.
“Sort of how you’re staring at me now. Judging.
I don’t want just another guy. This is not a ‘swipe right’ kind of situation.
I want someone with lots of experience. Someone I can brief.
Someone who won’t care if I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
And I want this to play out away from my real life. This is an… independent project.”
“Girl,” Callie says firmly, “first things first: I don’t judge my friends. Ever. And also… Babes, you had me fooled the entire night.”
My head pops up. “What are you on about?”
“I thought you were smart. Like, almost April-smart.”
Backhanded compliment received and logged.
“But you don’t get it, do you?” Her brow creases, mouth pulling into an incredulous smirk. “No expectations? The guy should be on his knees—figuratively, and yeah, literally too—thanking the heavens for a chance with you.”
I roll my eyes so hard I practically see gray matter. “Hmph,” I mutter. It's the universal sound of ‘shut up’, but Callie isn’t having it.
She sits across from me on the coffee table, grabs my knees and yanks my body towards her.
I nearly slip off the sofa to the ground.
“Hey, you listen to me now.” We’re face to face.
Nowhere to hide. “Look, I get it. You want control. You want someone who doesn’t make you feel one wrong move away from a bad Yelp review. We’ve all been there.”
She leans back, eyes a little glassy. “My first was Arnold, my assistant teacher.”
I blink. “Your what?”
“Yes,” she confirms unapologetically. “In college. And before you go full protective-mum mode, yes, I was legal. Just.” She laughs, but I don’t. “He was older, but I was all grown, babes.” Her smile falters when I keep staring. “I know how it sounds. But it wasn’t how you’re picturing it.”
I don’t realize how hard I’m gripping my glass until my fingers ache. “Callie…” I whisper, every cell in my body ready to fight Arnold in the parking lot of my imagination. “It sounds like you’re trying to make it sound better than it was.”
“Don’t give me that look.” She points a stern finger at my nose. “I wasn’t groomed, thank you for asking before assuming. He was twenty-six, so in men years, he was younger than me.”
My eyes widen, not at all convinced. Legal or not, that’s still dodgy.
“I started it. And I was very persuasive. I don’t tell this story often because people get stuck on the numbers, and that’s the wrong part.
But, babes, I wasn’t some clueless girl being manipulated.
I was a horny, wildly determined woman who seduced a man by bringing him coffee in tank tops that rivaled my bikinis. ”
I groan into my hands. “Not making it any better, Callie.”
She leans in, voice softening. “That’s your prerogative.
But the truth is, that man changed the way I saw myself.
He was imperative in making me the woman I am today.
In making me love myself as I am. At first, I was so scared of him seeing the parts of me I tried to hide—the soft stomach, the stretch marks on my thighs, the underside of my ass that I thought was too big.
I’d try to cover them, and he’d move my hands away.
Not roughly, always gently. I’ll never forget the day he whispered, ‘Don't ruin this moment by thinking you’re not what I want.’”
My breath hitches. I wasn’t expecting that.
“He’d kiss the parts of me I hated,” she continues. “So much he convinced me they were his favorites. He used to say, ‘Men jerk off to Playboy, but when it’s time to fuck, we want s’mth’n soft to hold.’”
I let out a strangled wheeze. “You were so close to a meaningful moment, and then you did that voice.”
She grins and repeats it in an even raspier, exaggerated growl: “‘S’mth’n to hold, darlin’.’”
I collapse back onto the sofa, torn between laughter and tears.
“Anyway,” Callie says, fanning herself, probably reliving the memory, “after that, he could bend me like a pretzel, and I didn’t give a single damn about what folded where. Because that man wanted me. Me.”
She leans in, dropping the theatrics. “That’s what you deserve, Mia. Not a man who tolerates your body. Not a man who grades you. Let alone a man you hired. We’ll find you one who looks at the full picture, sees the woman attached to the body, and craves the whole damn package.”
She clutches my hands tighter. “You are beautiful. And a hot piece of ass.”
As if those words could magically flip a switch inside me. My gaze drops, and my words quicken. “It’s not that simple, Cal. I wish it was, but you know it’s not. It’s a lifetime of ‘no’s.’ Of never finding your size in shops on the high street, of sales staff pretending to smile while pitying you.”
My throat tightens. I barely manage a breath before I let it all out.
“It’s growing up the third wheel,” I say softly.
“The plus-one to the friend who always got chosen first. Always the extra. It’s the dressing-room light that makes you flinch.
The waiter who asks if ‘I’m sure I want dessert.
’ The doctor who blames your cough on your weight.
The photos where you hide behind someone’s hair. ”
I could go on and on, but Callie cuts in, soft and certain.
“I know, babes. I’m not exactly petite either.
We’re big girls. I went through some of those struggles growing up too.
But I guess I got lucky with the people around me; they didn’t let me hate myself for my size.
In fact, they were annoyingly loud about how hot I was.
” She gives me a cheeky wink. “Somewhere along the way, I learned to love every fucking curve, dip, and crease of this body. I love every inch of me, Mia. I really do. And a man only gets the privilege of enjoying all this”—she runs her hands down her sides—“if he actually appreciates it too. And believe me, hun, plenty do. I have to fight some off with a stick.”
Facts. I testified to that tonight.
“I hate that you didn’t hear this enough before, so please hear me now. You’ve got curves, you’ve got flesh, and you’re beautiful, babes. Just the way you are. Get this through your head: you’ve never been the punchline. You’re not a project. And there’s nothing in your body that needs fixing.”
I smile because she’s sincere, and it’s coming from a good place. All of my teeth are on display before I can stop it. “Thanks for saying all that,” I mumble.
Callie gasps, turns to an empty corner of the room, and addresses an imaginary friend.
“Did she just bury a dismissal inside a thank you?” Then she turns back to me and drops a bomb: “Honestly, we can fix this in-house. I dare you to walk into Preston’s room right now and sit on his lap.
Let’s skip the escort and give Dr. Grump a reason to smile. Maybe a heart attack too.”
My pre-teen instincts kick in, and I smack Callie full force with the nearest pillow. She yelps and topples over, champagne flying, the carpet catching the worst of it.
Not as big of a mess as the one I’ve landed myself in.
Is Callie onto me?