"Princess, you know what a 'bucket list' is?"
Sly and I were sitting around his apartment waiting for a client to show up. As you might imagine, it's a little awkward having any kind of serious discussion while you're dressed only in a diaphanous teddy with nothing under it but crotch-split panties. However, if that's your working uniform, you kind of adapt to it. Sly has seen me in this outfit too many times for it to have much of an effect on him, but then, I was wearing it for the client, not for my agent.
Oh yeah, I should explain a bit. This will sound a little strange, but Sly and I have been partners ever since he blackmailed me into putting out for paying clients in order to pay off the ransom he had demanded of me to buy back some very incriminating material that would have devastated my family and my then-fiancΓ©. But here's the kicker. The surprising thing was that once I got into it, I found that not only was I good at the work, but I really liked the adventure. You don't often get to mix work and pleasure.
Sly's a tough guy, raised on the streets, hard and cynical, but he knows a good thing when he sees it, so after we were square financially, he offered to make the arrangement more permanent, and on the spot I agreed. In the months that have followed I've never regretted the decision. I've had some wild rides, and I really like the work. Of course, I'm not dumb enough to quit my day job in a prestigious city law firm. Not near the fun, but it's a steadier and more dependable income.
The fiancΓ©, by the way, is history. Amazing to me that I ever wanted that life.
"Yes," I said. "It's a list of things that you feel you have to do before you 'kick the bucket'. Wasn't there a movie about it with Mogan Freeman and Jack Nicolson a few years ago?"
"Not bad. I didn't know you were a movie buff. But yeah, that's the idea."
"I have a feeling," I said, "that this conversation is going somewhere, and when it gets there it's gonna involve me professionally."
Sly smiled.
"Not much gets by you, Princess, does it."
"Yeah. Doesn't take much to figure out we're not sitting here to talk about movies. What do you have in mind?"
"Okay. I got wind of an older guy that is willing to pay big bucks to check off a bucket list item."
"Way too vague," I said. "How old, how many bucks is big, and what's the item?"
"Dunno about the age," Sly said. "I'm gonna guess mid to late sixties, but really healthy. Works out a lot, I think."
"Sounds old to me. You don't think he's gonna have a heart attack if things get a little strenuous?"
"Nah. Besides, that'd be some experience, wouldn't it?" He smiled broadly.
"Quite a notch in your belt, to knock off some guy with sex."
"Not funny, Sly. I need your assurance that the guy's healthy enough for what he has in mind. Which, by the way, is what?"
"Guy's an avid hiker. That should tell you about his stamina. He loves the outdoors, mostly the woods. He wants to show that love by as he puts it, making love to a beautiful woman in the forest."
I was silent for a few long seconds.
"Where the hell do you find these people? No, wait, don't tell me. I think it's better if I don't know.
"Let me see if I've got this. The client wants me to go hiking God knows where with him and then at some point, when we're the middle of nowhere, he'll fuck me? Have I got the gist of it?"
Sly looked at me. I must have looked rather dubious.
"Yeah, that's about it. But before you say no, let me tell you about the money."
He did.
It was a lot.
"Jesus, Sly. He must really want this. But look, I'm a city girl. What do I know about hiking in the woods. Suppose we get attacked by a bear or something while we're fucking? Have either of you thought about that?"
"Jesus Christ, Princess! Leave it to you to think of that. Okay, I'll make him promise that there'll be no bears, or lions or tigers, for that matter. I'll make sure he knows what'll happen to him if anything happens to you."
I was slightly mollified. Sly's a very big, tough guy, so his threats of retribution are a very good guarantee of our clients' good behavior and of my safety.
"Okay," I said. "Set it up."
"That's the Princess I know. I knew you couldn't resist this one."
"Sometimes I think you know too damned much about me."
He smiled at that, but didn't rise to the bait.
Full disclosure, here, I have to admit that my mind wasn't fully on my work with that night's client. Nonetheless, he went away apparently quite satisfied. I am, after all, a professional.
I spent the morning of my date shopping. At those rates I could afford it. At REI I picked out comfortable boots, socks, and cute tailored khaki shorts. I felt like I was channeling Lara Croft. Elsewhere I got a red tie-front midriff blouse. The saleslady tried to sell me something she called a "hiking bra", but I declined. In my business you have to stay in shape, and my breasts were firm enough to hold up on their own without external support. Besides, guys like to see a little nipple poking the front of a blouse; lets them better imagine the rest, especially when they realize there's no extra barrier between them and the goods.
In keeping with the sporty look, I put my long blonde hair up in a ponytail, tied with a red ribbon matching the blouse. All in all, I looked pretty god. I even backed off some on the makeup for more of an out-doorsy persona.
The client, Stuart, picked me up at a pre-arranged location in mid-town (I keep my real address a closely guarded secret). He was driving a beautifully restored 1965 Austin Healey, powder blue with white leather interior. And Stuart? If I ever make it to my 'mid to late sixties' and look half as good as he did, I'll be forever grateful. He was tall, very fit looking, with just a delightful touch of gray at the temples. Like me, he wore shorts and a loose shirt. He had great legs. His hands on the steering wheel were firm and he shifted gears effortlessly as he guided the car through traffic. So much for worrying about him having a heart attack.
My
heart might be the problem!
When I climbed into the car, he looked me over very carefully. He smiled, and his eyes glowed.
"You are incredibly beautiful," he said. "Sly's description doesn't do you justice at all."
"Thank you. You're quite handsome yourself."
Mutual complements thus out of the way, we drove north, out of the city. Suburbs soon gave way to the country. Apparently, quite a few people actually live outside the city. We picked up the parkway, which led us on a lovely winding path into forested hills. After about an hour Stuart turned off onto a side road which led to a state park. We followed a narrow road down into a valley. He found a small parking lot next to a lake, surrounded by woods. We were the only ones there.
"Stuart, this is a beautiful spot," I said as we got out.
"Yes, it's one of my favorites. And I have to say, it's a lot more beautiful with you as part of the scenery."
Be still, my heart.
He opened the trunk (he called it the "boot") and got out a small backpack, which he put on. We headed off along the side of the lake. About halfway around the shore, he turned and entered the woods.
"How do we keep from getting lost?" I asked, a little worriedly.
"See these little splotches of paint on the trees? They mark the trail."