“Just for the record,” she began, “plenty of women are lousy in bed also! Lesfic always shows the ‘perfect world’ scenarios when it comes to sex. Just once I wouldn’t mind reading a book where the sex is either downright bad or just so-so.
“Tell Sally to get started on that,” Rachel suggested.
“Why would I tell—oh, yeah…right. I’ll mention it to her.” And Amy blushed again.
“Speaking of…is she home editing?”
“Editing what?”
“I follow her—well, Jillian—on Twitter, Amy! She tweeted that she just finished the first draft of her latest book.”
“Oh, yeah…right! Um…yep, she’s home editing away!”
“Tell her I said hi,” Rachel said and then checked her watch. Her showing was in a little less than two hours.
She had a good feeling about this one. The house was of modest size but absolutely gorgeous, in a great neighborhood close to the beach and, for Carlsbad, was exceptionally priced. The owners really wanted to sell fast; something about moving to Alaska of all places to spend their retirement. Rachel couldn’t understand leaving the beauty and warmth of California to spend your golden years in what she perceived as an arctic wasteland. She herself had grown up enduring the harsh winters of New England in Maine and after only a semester at UCLA had resolved never to go back.
Oh well, if the Havershams wanted to retire to Alaska, to each their own.
What really mattered to Rachel was selling their property. Doing so would mean meeting her sales target for this quarter already—and it was only the first of February!
She thought about what she had to do to prepare for showing the property to today’s client. Yesterday evening, she had stopped by the house to make sure it was presentation ready. The Havershams were already gone, currently in Fairbanks renting an apartment until their house sold, so the house was empty and spotless. Rachel hadn’t seen anything untoward during her inspection yesterday. So, all she really needed to do was make sure she looked professional and competent. This meant she could spend a little more time sitting here, chatting with Amy.
Today’s client was a new one, a word of mouth referral. This meant that she really needed to be on her A-game, which shouldn’t be a problem. Rachel had gained a good reputation as a realtor who not only knew her business backwards and forwards, but who was also incredibly nice and fun to work with.
So, sitting back and enjoying her coffee, she continued telling Amy all the other reasons why she was getting sick of men.
Turns out, there were a lot of them.
Chapter 2
“Heels?” Ainsley asked Charlotte.
Charlotte, reclining on Ainsley’s bed and flipping through
a magazine, took no time to consider her answer.
“Definitely,” she declared. “You’ll automatically intimidate her with your height and put the balance of power in your favor.”
Ainsley laughed.
Charlotte, a pediatrician, was big on the whole balance-of-power thing. Ainsley knew that Charlotte liked establishing the correct power hierarchy early on when dealing with her patients—or “the little shits,” as Charlotte often referred to them. Ainsley always thought it odd that her best friend, who apparently did not even like children, had decided to focus her medical career on treating them.
“What if she’s just as tall as me?” Ainsley asked, with a cocked eyebrow.
But Charlotte shook her head.
“Less than five percent of little girls grow up to be as tall as you, Ains,” she said. “Trust me…you wear those Blahniks you splurged on last year and she’ll think she’s dealing with a Greek goddess and won’t dare to mess with you.”
Ainsley laughed again.
“I’m trying to establish a working relationship with this person,” she said. “Not go all Greek goddess on her.”
Nonetheless, Ainsley did choose the black Blahniks from her shoe rack. She had splurged on them and had only worn them four times thus far. After slipping them on, she moved to stand in front of the eight-foot-tall mirror she had found at an Italian home furnishings store and surveyed herself.
She was far more dressed up than normal for a day off. Her five-ten athletically slender frame was wearing a charcoal-grey pencil skirt that was subtly ruched and a white sleeveless blouse with a scoop neckline which allowed just the right amount of her cleavage to be visible. She was glad she had purchased such a large mirror because with the high heels on, she was easily six-two and yet she could still see her entire body.
“Hair up or down?” she asked Charlotte.