The only thing that Sophie Creighton related to her husband's disappearance when she called me in to try to track him down was his recent obsession with an online dating service. She didn't suspect foul play or anything. He had packed a suitcase and, she said, had been withdrawn and acting strangely for some time. She said she primarily wanted to know where he was so that she could have divorce papers served on him.
He hadn't taken his desktop computer and she'd spent time breaking into his private areas before she'd called me in. She'd found that he'd been playing around on a local dating site called QuadDating, which had a stiff six-month membership fee that gave you access to the member profiles, and where, for an additional fee, you could make four appointments for hookups on a single day at the service's facility with those whose profiles attracted you. The appointments were for four-hours at QuadDating's facility, an old downtown hotel converted for the purpose. The four hours was broken into four separate appointments for forty-five minutes each in a hotel room, to do whatever the two (or more) of you wanted to do. The sessions were separated by fifteen minutes. You could sign up for fewer sessions, but you paid for all four. And the hookups were all by mutual consent.
Sophie had found not only Don Creighton's personal profile on the dating site Internet page but also evidence of his last session signup. For the first sessions, he'd made an appointment for a young woman named Cindy—for two consecutive sessions. But, though the record indicated he's made two other appointments, he'd managed to blank out the names of who they'd been set with.
Sophie said she wanted me to track this Cindy down and find out if Don was with her. She flattered me by saying she'd picked me, on recommendation, because she didn't think I'd have any trouble making an appointment with this Cindy. Sophie gave me a check to cover not only my expenses for three days work but also the relatively high cost to sign up with QuadDating and to pay for information. Saying yes to her proposal wasn't difficult as I had no other work pressing, and I wouldn't mind trying out one or two of those sessions she was paying for. I wasn't exactly celibate.
* * * *
I was gratified to find that Sophie had assessed my chances in the QuadDating profiles correctly. It wasn't long after I put in my profile that the interested private messages started pinging, and within several hours I not only had appointments for the next day with Cindy but also with three other prime candidates of my choice. What was surprising to me was that good research on the QuadDating Web site revealed that several of the profiles were for listed staff members of the site. As these were some of the more attractive profiles, it struck me that QuadDating wasn't just running a referral and enabling dating-cum-sex service, but it also was running some form of a brothel—and one where amateurs could play on the same level as the professionals. Only the member setting up the appointments was charged for the service, so my guess was that some of the honeys with the best profiles on the site had just discovered a clever way to avoid walking the streets.
The pros undoubtedly got a cut of the fees, but everything a session with an amateur brought in most likely went directly to the house. This was a new concept for a brothel to me, and one that seemed to be clever. Undoubtedly connections with the amateurs could be made outside the service, but I was willing to bet the pros made their hookups keep contact within the confines of QuadDating's expense structure.
It didn't matter to me whether I signed up for pros or amateurs as long as they were arousing and helped lead to where I wanted to go. Beyond Cindy, who was quite a looker, if you liked that type, I signed up for the best I could find. It actually worked to the benefit of what I was tasked to do to have hookups with service staff members, so that maybe I could learn something about the operation that would permit me to track down the wandering Don Creighton. And whoever I hooked up with would earn their way.
Cindy was a bit surprised when all I wanted to do in my first QuadDating hookup, beyond some light kissing and groping, was talk. She seemed a bit disappointed and said so, saying she'd been looking forward to the hookup, but when I started flashing the wad of money Sophie Creighton had given me to loosen lips, she was willing not only to talk but also to go out to the reception area and pump her friend in reception for information on Don Creighton. Before she went she said he'd fucked her but almost seemed reluctant to do so.
"He was a hunk—like you," she said. "But he didn't really want to do any more than you have. He was nervous the whole time he was with me—like he couldn't wait to get on to the next session. I felt like I had to seduce him. And I'd had such hopes for him."
"Hopes for him?" I asked.
"I checked up on him. The man's loaded and is a real good looker. A beautiful body—just like you, hon. I had visions of more than just a hookup."
"More than a hookup? The man's married you know." But when she gave me that "so what?" look, I realized that Cindy was using the service to land a sugar daddy. Beyond that, of course, Don hadn't put anything about is marriage in his profile. It was sort of a tossup on whether to do that or not. To some, cheating on a spouse would be part of the arousal.
One thing was clear about Don, though. It was increasingly looking like whoever he ran off with was as a result of hookups with this dating service, using QuadDating as a stepping stone much as Cindy was.
When Cindy came back from reception, she had the most peculiar look on her face.
"Well, no wonder," she muttered. "But why did he even bother to book me?"
"What do you mean by that?" I asked.
"I asked the receptionist to check the records three times. The two appointments he had after me the other day were with men."
"Men?" I asked.
"Yes. And one of them is Rick—a really great-looking guy. He works here. I knew there was nothing going with him, though. He's gay. And, being staff here, he obviously isn't what I'm looking for anyway. He's here today, though, if you want to ask him about that guy."
And again she wondered why he'd even bothered with her. I didn't really wonder, though. I figured that it was insurance, so that, if Sophie Creighton managed to break into his computer and find the QuadDating service material, she might be ticked at him, but she wouldn't find the worst. He had left a hookup with a woman, but he'd erased references to sex appointments with men. He had been covering many levels of his tracks.
I'd normally go back and just tell the client she was better off without the guy, but in this case, Sophie Creighton didn't seem to need to be convinced of that. She just wanted to track him down to serve him with divorce papers. That he was into men rather than women would just be so much more frost on the ice cube she was forming around her husband.
I knew a lot more now about the circumstances than I had before arriving at QuadDating, but it didn't get me any further with locating where Don Creighton was now. It wasn't with this Rick guy. I knew that because my next appointment in the QuadDating cycle was with Rick. He hadn't run off with anyone. And he was a real honey—one I'd picked out for my own enjoyment.
* * * *
A forty-five minute session didn't permit much opportunity the first time to shake off the awkwardness and the nerves of what touted itself as a dating service and to get much beyond petting, groping, and getting each other off with hands and mouths. And it was a bit taxing to do this with a new "date" four times within four hours. But that likely was part of the design of the service. They were encouraging follow-up visits. I supposed, with practice and experience with the system, one would make appointments with new people one wanted to meet at the beginning and would, by the fourth session, be fucking ones where the comfort level had been reached in previous sessions.
None of that came into play with my session with Rick. I hit the jackpot in the second session. We both came into the room aroused and hard; got past the kissing, groping, and undressing stages quickly, and had plenty of time for a hot, completed fuck and a bit of postcoital conversation afterward.
There had been a bit of a struggle on who was going to be the top between Rick and me, but I'd read his profile. He'd listed himself as versatile—and I hadn't. He was a cute trick. Younger and smaller than I was. Auburn hair with blond highlights, long eyelashes and a shy, sensual smile. Rings in one ear, both nipples, and his navel. I was sure he had no trouble booking up from the Web site profiles.
But we both knew that time was of the essence, so after just a bit of wrestling, he allowed me to turn him over on his back and run my hand down his back and into the curve of his buttocks while we were kissing and my fingers to move inside him. I felt him relax and legs fall apart and spread for me. He already was moaning and moving his hips when I moved inside him and started to pump him deep. He struggled with me again then, as I went in deep, writhing under me and panting. But then he just relaxed under me and went with the ride.
He was making all the right noises and moving his hips with me, and we both came in time, nearly fifteen minutes, for me to do a bit of a different kind of pumping.
"God, that was too quick," he said with a good semblance of a whine when we were done. "We need to meet again."
