“Oh, Cassie. We definitely found the right candidate in you. You can’t even say the word!” She giggled. “I’ll send someone right over, sweetie. And hold tight. Things are about to get very interesting.”
Fifteen minutes later, my front doorbell rang. I whipped it open expecting to see a scraggly teenage courier, but a lanky, good-looking man leaned against the doorjamb. He had puppy-dog brown eyes, and wore a hoodie, white T-shirt and jeans. He looked about thirty years old.
He smiled. “I’m here to fetch your folder. And I’m also instructed to give you this. You must open it now.”
I couldn’t make out his accent. Was it Spanish? He passed me a small cream-colored envelope. It had the letter C on the outside.
I slid my finger under the flap and ripped it open. Inside was a card that read: Step One. My heart sped up. “What does the card say?” he asked.
I looked up at this impossibly handsome man, this courier, or whatever he was, in front of me. “You want me to read it?”
“Yes, you must.”
“It says … ‘Surrender.’ ” My voice was barely audible.
“You will be asked at the beginning of every fantasy if you accept this Step. Do you accept this Step?”
I gulped.
“Which Step?”
“Step One, of course. Surrender. You must surrender to the fact that you need help. Sexually.”
My God, he practically purred the word. He placed a hand under his T-shirt and touched his stomach while he leaned on the doorjamb and took me in with his eyes.
“Do you?” he asked.
I didn’t know it would all begin this quickly.
“I … with you? Now?”
“Do you accept the Step?” he asked, moving ever so slightly towards me.
I could hardly speak. “What … what will happen?”
“Nothing, unless you accept the Step.”
His eyes, the way he was leaning …
“I … yes. I do.”
“Why don’t you clear a space for me right there,” he said, making a big circle with his hand and indicating the area between my living room and dining room. “I’ll be right back.” Then he turned around and left.
I ran to my living room window and saw him heading to a limo that was parked outside.
I placed my hand on my chest and glanced around my spotless living room, candles flickering everywhere. I was showered and scented. I was wearing a silk nightgown. They knew! I kicked the ottoman to the wall and shoved the couch closer to the coffee table.
The young man returned a minute or two later with what looked like a portable massage table.
“Please go into the bedroom and take everything off, Cassie. Put this towel around you. I will call you when I’m ready.”
I gathered Dixie on the way in. This was something my cat didn’t need to see. In my room I let my robe drop to the floor and took a last glance in my dresser mirror. My internal critic kicked in immediately. But this time I did something I had never done before. I shut it off. I waited, clenching and unclenching my fists. This can’t be real. This can’t be happening. But it is!
“Please come in,” I heard from behind the closed door.
I entered as timid as a mouse to a transformed room. The blinds had been shut. The candles were placed on my end tables on either side of a massage table. It was equipped with stirrups and the bottom half had a split down the middle. I reflexively pulled the towel tight around me as I tiptoed over to the table towards this impossibly handsome young man standing in the middle of my living room. He was just shy of six feet tall. His hair was shiny and wavy, long enough to tuck some of it behind his ears. His forearms were sinewy and tanned, and his hands looked muscular. Maybe he really was a massage therapist! When he rested one of his hands under his T-shirt, I caught a glimpse of his flat stomach, also tanned. He wore a knowing smile that made him look a little older, and a lot sexier. Brown eyes. Did I mention his eyes? They were almond-shaped, with a bit of mischief in them. How could a guy be both kind-looking and hot? I’d never experienced that combination before, but it was potent.
“Drop the towel. Let me look at you,” he gently commanded.