The Virgin Ceremonies Ch 01

Chapter 01

Brent: An Indecent Interview

The bell above the cafe door rang. I gave it a glance. A middle-aged woman came through, very well dressed, wearing an abundance of gold jewelry. My eyes returned to the table I was wiping down. The cafe had just opened up.

"Good morning," my manager Karen said. "Welcome to Starstruck's. What can I get you?"

Yes, our cafe was called Starstruck's, a blatant attempt to rip off a well-known brand and copy their style at half the price... and half the taste, if I'm honest. Some drinks were good though, but only if I was mixing them. Karen was an awful barista.

"Black Kahlua, no cream, one no-cal sugar," the woman ordered at the counter. She paid with a credit card, and then Karen wrote her name on a cup. "Olivia."

The woman was wearing big sunglasses. She lowered them to look around the cafe. There was no one else there. I met her eyes for a moment and then continued to wipe down the tables.

The bell rang again. A man entered, maybe in his late twenties, muscular. He was wearing jeans and a leather jacket, with a white t-shirt underneath. Somehow, I doubted that these two meeting at 6:00am on a Monday morning was a coincidence.

Karen welcomed him. "Good morning. What can I get you?"

"A shot of espresso," the man ordered.

The woman sat herself at a table by the window. I was about to step behind the counter to help Karen with the orders, but the woman spoke up. "Boy, boy."

"Me?" I said.

"Come wipe this down, now."

"Oh, sure," I said, coming over. I'd already wiped that table down a few minutes ago, but I wasn't going to argue with her. The customer is always right. As I wiped her table, I had a chance to look at her. She was very pretty, but she'd clearly had some work done. Her face had fewer wrinkles than mine, and I was only 19.

What I said next, I only said because I'd been raised by a very kindhearted grandmother. Whenever someone annoyed you, it was best to give them a compliment. "Your rings are beautiful."

"Oh, why, thank you," she said with a titter.

I gave her a smile---those are free---and then I returned to Karen at the counter. "Need a hand?"

"No," Karen said. "Hurry up and get the tables wiped down and the chairs settled. We're behind."

"You opened late."

"Just do it."

I returned to straightening the chairs, wiping down the tables, and brushing off the sofa. I saw the young man join the older woman at her table. I was right? Well, waddayaknow.

"Hey," he said.

"Good morning," she said.

He wiped his eyes. "We had to meet this early?"

"Some of us are productive during the day."

"I was dancing until 1:00am," he said.

This guy was a dancer? I glanced at him again. Somehow, I didn't think he meant ballet.

"Brent," Karen called to me, snapping her fingers. She was pointing to the drinks she'd just made. "Serve these."

I came over and took them. "I love the way you snap your fingers at me." Did that constitute a compliment? It was the best I could manage for Karen, the daughter of the brilliant man who thought naming his cafe Starstruck's would bring him extra business.

"Try not to spill them this time," she said with an insincere grin.

I took the drinks and placed them on the table of the couple. "One black Kahlua. One espresso. Enjoy, folks."

"Thanks, man," the guy said.

The woman gave a dismissive smile. "Thank you."

I went back to wiping down tables, keeping an ear toward the couple, intrigued by this mismatched pair.

"So?" he said. "What did you want to talk about? You saw my text."

"Mel," she said, folding her hands and placing them in her lap. "You know I think you're a dear. You're gorgeous, really. You were so good, so good with my daughter."

Oh, I felt bad for the guy now. He was getting the treatment from his ex's mother. Well, wait a minute. Why would this rich-looking woman want this gruff looking dancer to date her daughter to the point of calling a meeting with him?

"And like I said in my text, my girlfriend is pregnant," the guy said. "I'm engaged now. I proposed three weeks ago."

I was just confused now.

"And 20,000 would help pay for that wedding, wouldn't it?" the woman said a little softer.

Did I hear 20,000? Did she mean dollars? No way, probably not.

"It's not about the money. It's about loyalty."

"It's one night. Look, do you remember my niece? She's a beautiful girl."

My back was to the couple, but I tried to turn around as I moved to clean up another table. The woman had a picture on her phone of a gorgeous strawberry brunette with a bright smile.

"I remember, but I don't care," he said. "I'm loyal. I might have a friend who can do it."

I wondered what exactly this woman was trying to buy from this guy. Who pays $20,000 for a dancer at a party?

"Mel, your fiance will never find out."

"You don't think she'll wonder where I got 20k?"

"Make something up. You won it at the casino. What if I push it to 30,000?"

Holy hell, $30,000 for a dance? Man, what I could do with that much money. I'd never seen so much in my life.

"Look, I'm sorry, Mrs. Duclark. I only showed up today out of respect. We're old friends, but I just can't do it." He finished his espresso and stood up. I had the feeling he ordered the drink precisely so he could finish it quickly. "I wish you all the best, yeah?"

"I'm very disappointed, Mel. So very disappointed."

"I'm sorry, okay? I'll text you my friend's info."

He left and the woman remained, staring out of the big window of our cafe. I kept wiping down a nearby table. I could not believe that guy just walked out on a dancing gig for $30,000. I imagined dancing probably meant stripping. Hell, I could be a dancer. Why not? I was fit. Not a six pack but an empty carton at least. Hm, would I have to show my dick? Probably. But I thought I had a nice dick. I was a handsome guy too, or so I thought. I mean, half the reason Karen hated me is because she flirted with me on my first day of work, and I ignored her. Yeah, most girls gave me a glance and a smile. I was okay, but was I worth $30,000? Maybe $10,000.

"Excuse me, ma'am," I said, my heart hammering. I couldn't believe I was doing this. I could still back out, just say, do you want another coffee? "I couldn't help overhearing." Oh, God, was I really doing this? "Do you, uh, are you looking for someone to work for you for a day or two?"

She looked at me, I mean really looked at me, her eyes meeting mine and then going up and then down. She barked a laugh. "Excuse me?"

"I, I just, I uh---" Lie. I should lie. It was the only way now. I'd probably fall on my face miserably, but what did I have to lose? "I'm actually a pretty good dancer. I mean, you know, stage dancing."

"Listen, boy. I don't know what you heard---"

"Nothing really," I interrupted. "Just that maybe you were looking for a dancer for a party. I, I... well, I'm available."

She set back in her chair. Her face was red, and not just from the facelift. She looked angry, but the more she stared, the more she seemed to consider it.

"Has anyone ever told you it's not nice to eavesdrop?"

"Only Gandalf, but his advice was never 100%."

"Excuse me?"

"Never mind, bad joke."

"Is that what your offer is, a bad joke?"

"No, no, no," I said. Now that I had lied, I felt almost indignant that she didn't believe me. How ridiculous. Maybe I was bored. Maybe I hated my job. Maybe I wanted to have fun. "I'm serious. If your friend isn't interested in the job, whatever the details, I'd be happy to help you out."

"You don't even know what the job is."

"Right, well, I'm saying whatever it is, I have the skills, because I've danced before."

She raised an eyebrow and clicked her tongue. "Sit."

I glanced at the chair. I knew if I sat, Karen would chew me out later. Oh, well, she did that anyway. This was $30,000 on the line. I could afford to be fired. I sat.

"How old are you?" she asked me.

"I just turned 19 last month."

"When did you dance?" she asked.

Details? Damn it. "Last year, right after I turned 18."

"Where?"

"You know, a couple different places." If you want a lie to work, add in some truth. "Actually, I had to stop because my grandmother isn't well. Dementia. I have to watch her at night, so it's not a great schedule for a dancer. That's why I decided to work here, morning hours."

"You're not a university student?" she asked.

"No, not yet. I'm too busy with work, and I need to be home to take care of my grandma."

She squinted a little. "Don't you have parents who do that?"

"No," I said. I didn't really want to get into that topic with a stranger. This lie was spiraling, and I already regretted speaking up.

"No other family?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, ma'am."

She tapped the table. "I need to smoke. Step outside with me."

She stood up and went outside. I glanced at Karen who looked livid.

"I'll be back in a minute," I said as I walked out.

Outside, it was a crisp autumn morning in October with a breeze rolling through. The woman took out a pack. She held it in my direction, but I shook my head. She lit up. "That's good. A dancer shouldn't smoke."

I gave half a laugh. "Yeah, gotta keep fit."

"Exactly," she said. She smoked and stared at me. I was getting nervous. "What would you charge for one night of dancing, say two hours?"

I gulped. She was really considering me? She had offered that last guy $30,000. But he had experience, real experience, and she knew him. I didn't want to be the first to suggest a number. I still couldn't even believe I was doing this.

"I, uh, I'm not sure. How much were you going to pay the other guy?"

"More than a barista without references," she said, staring hard at me. "Are you serious, or are you playing games?"

"$10,000," I blurted out. I had to be the knock-off brand in this case. No way I could ask for $30,000.

The woman seemed to smirk. She held out her free hand. "Olivia Duclark."

"Nice to meet you, Olivia. I'm Brent." I pointed at my nametag like a doofus. "Brent Grayson."

"Call me Mrs. Duclark," she said. "Quite a discount, Brent. Did you overhear what I was offering the man you saw me with?"

"Uh, 20 to 30,000?"

"You have good ears. So why the discount?"

"If I asked for 20,000, could I have gotten it?"

"No. If you had, I would've walked away."

"Oh."

"You're a smart kid. Have you actually done any dancing?"

"Sure, some, in different places."

"I'm not looking for a dancer, Brent."

I was confused now. If she wasn't looking for a dancer, what had all this been about? "You're not? You changed your mind?"

"I'm looking for a male escort," she said.

My eyes froze and ice ran through my veins. What had I gotten myself into?

"Now, do you want to cut the shit about being a dancer?" she asked.

I gulped. "I'm sorry. I, I---"

"You saw dollar signs and lied."

I was humiliated. I didn't say anything, just looked down at my feet, like when I was little and my grandmother caught me sneaking cookies, but now it felt like I'd eaten a whole jar.

"Was that line about your grandmother even true?" she asked.

I looked up. "Yes. The money would've helped me take care of her. Okay, I'm not a professional dancer, but I do like to dance, and I am pretty good. I used to breakdance for fun in high school. I thought I could, I don't know, fake it. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to waste your time." I took a step back. "I'll just go. I'm really sorry."

She took another puff of her cigarette. "$10,000 for two hours. That's all I need."

I paused. "You're serious?"

"Are you?" She puffed. "You're cute. Innocent. Most escorts I've met, they're hard, tired, all business. You're soft, and I think I need soft for this job."

I didn't exactly know if that was a compliment. It didn't feel like one. I really wanted to run back into the cafe and get my lecture from Karen now.

"I, I don't think I'd be good at that job."

"Why? Are you gay?" she asked me.

"Huh? No."

"Gay, bi, hetero, which is it?"

"Just, just hetero, I guess."

"So, are you interested in working or not?"

"What, what would I have to do for two hours?" I couldn't believe I was even asking. I should have said, no thank you, have a nice day, goodbye.

She smirked at me. "What do you think? You would have to fuck. You're not a virgin, are you?"

Oh, my God, this was embarrassing. "I, well, no, but I don't have a ton of experience."

"Hm." She puffed again. "What to do, what to do... I'll tell you what. I'll give you an interview."

"An interview?"

She pulled out a business card and handed it to me. It said Duclark Enterprises, Legal Department.

"Come to my office at 6:30pm tonight. Don't you dare keep me waiting for even one minute, or you can fuck off and forget we spoke. And don't come early. God knows I don't need you hanging around the lobby. And don't breathe a word of me, my business, or anything you've overheard to anyone, not your little friends, not your little coworkers in there, not even dear old granny. Understood?"

I gulped as I took the card. "Yes, ma'am."

She smiled. "Good boy."

She left. I was standing there in shock. What the hell had just happened?

I went back in and Karen chewed me out. I made up an excuse about the woman asking to borrow my cell phone. Karen didn't buy it, and she set me to work cleaning all the coffee machines. Cleaning gave me time to consider what I'd gotten myself into. I wasn't really going to have sex with that woman for money, was I? I wasn't a prostitute. Well, not yet. Oh, my God, what was I doing? I felt like I'd debased myself already, and I hadn't even done anything, except lie, get caught and then propositioned.

The card in my pocket felt like a lead weight. I swear I had to pull up my pants a dozen times that day. Was I really going to go to this business woman's office at 6:30pm, and what, have sex with her? For $10,000? Wow, $10,000. It felt like an unreal amount of money. With my grandmother's social security and my paychecks, I could barely cover our expenses, especially her medicine. With $10,000, I could live worry-free for months and get ahead on all of those credit card bills.

I should do it, if not for me, for her. It was only one night, only two hours. I'd never make so much money at a cafe or anywhere else. It's not like I was down on the corner turning tricks. Just two hours. No big deal.

At 6:20pm, I showed up at the building and headed inside. I took the elevator all the way up to the 8th floor and followed the signs to Duclark Enterprises, Law Offices. She must have been some high-priced lawyer. Inside, there was a lobby with six chairs and an empty front desk. The clock told me it was 6:25pm. I hoped I wasn't too early.

I sat in one of the chairs, my palms sweaty. I rubbed them on my jeans. I was wearing a blue button-down shirt to look a little more professional, as if this were a real job interview. I watched the clock. No one was around, and it was soon 6:35pm. Maybe she wasn't coming. Maybe she'd already left. I felt sick to my stomach.

From around the corner, I saw a man coming, perhaps in his late 50's, well dressed with salt and pepper hair, a thick mustache, and big glasses. A woman followed him. They were laughing about something. The woman I recognized immediately. I had no idea who the man was.

"Oh?" the man said. "Son, we're closed. Was that door unlocked?"

"That's my doing, dear," Olivia said. "I told Felicia to leave it unlocked when she left. This one's a late case. I need to prep him for a deposition tomorrow. He works at the New Jersey site, couldn't come until now."

"That's right, you said you had to stay and finish up."

"Yes, go home, Eric. I'll be there in an hour."

"All right," Eric said. He kissed her cheek. "See you at home."

I gulped but didn't say anything as the man passed me and headed through the door. Olivia locked up behind him. She returned the way she had come.

"Come on, then."

I got up and hurried after her, my heart racing. She took me into a large conference room with a big table and a dozen chairs.

"Sit."

I sat while she closed the blinds on the windows that looked out into the office area. The other side of the room had huge windows that looked out at New York City, the sunset casting the buildings in warmth. She sat across from me, crossing her legs.

"Can I offer you anything, coffee, tea, juice, water? We have some leftover croissants."

"No, no, thank you," I said.

"Very well." She opened a briefcase and took out a yellow legal pad, a folder, and a pen. She also took out a piece of gum and stuffed it in her mouth. "Nicotine gum. I miss the days when you could smoke indoors."

"Oh, yeah, me too," I said. Why did I miss them? I'd never been alive when you could do that. And I didn't smoke.

"Do you have ID?"

"Oh, sure."

"Let me see it."

I took out my wallet and passed her the ID. She studied it and wrote my information down on a document. Then she passed it back, along with the document.

"What's this?" I asked.

"It's a non-disclosure agreement. What we discuss is between us. If you talk about it, I'll sue you."

I believed her. "Oh, no, I wouldn't do that. I haven't discussed it with anyone."

"Good. And you won't. This is your promise. Sign it and we can continue."

I signed it and passed it back.

"Perfect. Are you ready to start the interview?" she asked.

I gulped. Was I? It was just questions, right? "Yeah, I guess."

"Brent," she said, "so you understand me completely, I don't want to hear any lies, no half-truths. You give me any of that, and we're done. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"First and foremost, do you have any sexually transmitted diseases? Even those you've recovered from?"

"Uh, no, never."

"You understand I'll expect you to take a blood test, so lying is pointless."

"I'm not lying. I haven't caught anything."

"Good. Then let's discuss your sexual experience."

"Okay."

I felt so awkward. I took a deep breath and tried to treat this like any other job interview. I was sure there would be stupid questions about what my greatest strength was or my greatest weakness or an example of a time that I was a good team player.

"The truth this time, are you a virgin?"

Oh, my lord, this was rarely asked in a normal job interview. "No, ma'am, I'm not a virgin."

"How many women have you slept with?"

"One."

"Other than you, how many men has she slept with?"

I gulped. "One, I mean, none. Me, that's it."

"Are you dating her now?"

"No, no. This was, uh, almost a year ago, yeah. It was one time."

"You've had sex one time?"

"Yes."

She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Very inexperienced, aren't you?"

"Wait, I'm sorry, I answered incorrectly. I meant one time with one girl, but we had sex together a bunch of times."

"Did you just lie to me."

"No, no, I'm nervous. I didn't hear right."

"What was her name?"

"Alexa. Alexandra."

"How many times did you two fuck?"

"I, I don't know. Maybe a dozen times or so."

"Why did you break up?"

"We, uh, we got caught by her dad. He beat me up."

She laughed. "Really?"

I couldn't help but laugh too. "Yeah. Broke my nose, actually. Afterward, he forbade her to talk to me, or else he'd cut her off. He was wealthy. I offered to run away with her, but she said no way, didn't want to screw up her future, lose her trust fund or whatever. It's fine, probably the smartest thing for her."

"How did you meet Alexandra?"

"My grandmother was their maid. I'd visit her now and then, so I met Alexa. But my grandmother was fired after I got caught. She hasn't worked since, but her health is in decline now anyway."

"So that line about caring for your grandmother was actually true?"

"Yes, I take care of her. Back before I screwed up things with Alexa, her father was promising to pay my grandma's medical bills and stuff."