Sample Sunday: Excerpt from the forthcoming novel “The Professional”
I drive a black S80. It’s stylish in a subdued way. I don’t like showing off, but I like to be different. And I like quality.
See, I travel in rarified air.
It’s nice up here.
I got started when I was eighteen years old. Not in the business of money, but in the business of taking care of women. Not fucking them, which is what I thought it was all about when I was young and uninformed. I learned early on that it’s not always about what happens between the sheets, though it could be. It’s not always about wining and dining them either, though that’s often a part of the package. I get paid to give a particular woman what she needs particularly. Sometimes it’s nothing more than company and conversation. Not often, but sometimes. The bottom line is that each woman is different. She has her own particular beauty—which has nothing to do with the external—and her particular beauty needs its particular nourishment. This is where many men fall short. I get paid to take up the slack, to fill a void; to nourish her beauty, even if only for one night.
But okay, it started with sex.
The first was a friend of my aunt’s. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. She helped me learn. Then she introduced me to some of her friends.
Maybe it’s a woman’s nurturing nature that compelled them to want to teach me what a woman likes, and more important, what she needs. And maybe because I was young they considered me clay to be molded, and they felt free to tell me to do things that they couldn’t ask their men to do (if they had a man), or things they’d asked for that he wouldn’t do.
Consider the times. Women were still largely considered not to be as sexual as men. Women didn’t always feel free to be themselves, to let their sexuality off its chain and let it run loose. Whatever the reason, I paid attention and learned my lessons. I’d say that in the end, I graduated with honors. I’m not bragging. I don’t need to. I come with references.