"Fantastic pictures, Bess," Bonnie said flipping through the album. "You look unbelievable hot. I think a man may have a problem choosing which one is best. I like the cover, 'Black Leather'. It will go well together with mine. "
"Thanks," Bess replied, "but I owe it all to Tom. He made it so much easier than I thought it would be."
"Yes, he is good. Did he use the story about finding a man in the forest and you having your way with him?"
"No. The story was the other way around. A man found me," Bess said.
"Good choice," Bonnie said, "Did he help you with picking out the costumes?"
"Yes. I liked all his choices but the head teacher one. It didn't seem like me. One question. How did he know I would want the dungeon pictures?"
"Tom and I talked about you before the shot. I told him how you reacted when I showed you that room. I also remembered your reaction when I talked about a certain 'friend' and that room." Bonnie had turned to that picture. Bess was tied to the bench, wet and open for the taking. Oh yes, thought Bonnie, this will do very well.
"One more question," Bess asked, "It seemed that Tom was unaffected by me. I have never felt more aroused in my life yet he did nothing. Why?"
"I'll let you in on a little secret," Bonnie began, "Tom and I have an arrangement. Remember the naughty little boy suit?"
"Yes," Bess nodded.
Bonnie continued, "Tom likes to be dominated. That's why he suggested the teacher outfit. I told him that he could look but not touch you and I would know if he did. He came over here that night to collect his reward for being 'a good boy'. He told me he dearly wanted to but didn't."
"Wow," was all Bess could say.
"I punished him a little for his impure thoughts though," Bonnie laughed.
The girls sipped their wine and then Bonnie got right to the point.
"Most of the men are looking for a creative evening. Something they can't get at home," Bonnie explained.
"How do I broach the subject then?"
"It is different each time," Bonnie answered. "Some men just want straight fucking and you don't have to use the album at all. Most men who call me and who'll be calling you have been referred by someone else. Let's face it. I'm expensive and you will be too. Someone who just wants a good lay can get that for a lot less money. Our kinds of 'friends' want something out of the ordinary. I guess creative is as good as any term."
Bess leaned forward. "But how, exactly, should I begin things? I just can't say 'Want to act out a story?' can I?"
"You probably won't have to. Most of the time they will know about your album from whoever recommended them. They may already know what they want. Some may have never thought about role playing and those are the most fun. Once you get past a man's initial shyness, play-acting can be the greatest turn-on there is. Gets them outside themselves. They can do anything, be anyone, and no one's judging them."
Bess lowered her head, afraid to look Bonnie in the eyes. "What if I'm not good enough?" she said softly. "What if he doesn't get his money's worth?"
Bonnie lifted Bess' chin. "Baby, from the looks of these pictures, it won't be a problem. Now let's get your feet wet."
Bess introduced herself to the maitre'd and he guided her to quiet section off to one side of the busy restaurant. As she slalomed between tables she had a moment to look over Mr. Martin, who was hesitantly sipping a glass of red wine.
Tony Martin was about 45, Bess guessed, with a receding hairline and wire-rimmed glasses. To his credit, his dark hair wasn't combed over the top to disguise his balding pate, but was neatly trimmed and styled.
As Tony looked up and saw her moving towards him, Bess smiled and nodded. He looked straight at her and she was struck by his eyes – so bright blue that if not for his glasses she would have thought he was wearing colored lenses. Both his smile and eyes made his face surprisingly appealing.
As he watched the beautiful, young woman making her way to his table, he thought, she doesn't look like a call girl. If she was as good in bed as she looked, she was going to make him regret that he only got to Minnesota once or twice a year.
"You're Bess," he said standing up.
"Tony," Bess said extending her free hand, "I'm so glad to meet you." The maitre'd pulled out her chair and she settled in. She set her package she was carrying down next to her.
"Wine?" he asked. When she nodded, he asked, "red or white?"
"Red."
"I looked at the wine list and they have a fine Burgundy, if that's okay?"
"That will be fine," Bess said. She had barely gotten comfortable when the waiter brought the wine. When Tony nodded, the waiter opened the bottle and neatly filled her long-stemmed glass. "To an eventful evening," Bess said lifting her glass towards Tony.
"Eventful," Tony said as his glass touched hers. "A superb way of thinking about things." He sipped. "You're lovely."
Bess smiled. She had selected a soft chiffon scoop-necked dress in a shade best described as cantaloupe and wore it with a triple-strand pearl necklace and pearl drop earrings. A matching triple-strand bracelet and a gold watch showed off her long, slender fingers. On a whim she had her nails done that afternoon in a frosted shade the exact hue of her dress.
"Thank you," she said softly. Tony's dark suit was carefully tailored to hide the slight paunch she had noticed as he stood up and he wore a monogrammed white on white shirt with a conservative paisley tie. Everything about him bespoke pride in his appearance and money enough to indulge it. "You're not bad yourself."
Over dinner, they talked about his business, family, and ordinary things. By dessert they were able to discuss politics. They agreed more than either had expected.
Tony finally brought up the reason for their meeting. "We have a mutual friend," he said, suddenly hesitant. "Bonnie Roberts."
"I know," Bess said, "She gave you my phone number."
"Right."
When the silence became awkward, Bess asked, "Do you want my company for the rest of the evening?"
