Sex Coach by M. S. Parker
I was lonely .
There was distance between my parents and me, a distance that was only slowly beginning to heal, despite the fact that it had been more than eight years since everything with Parker had started .
They blamed themselves .
They shouldn't, and I'd told them so. I was the one who hadn't gone to them, who'd believed my uncle when he lied and convinced me that nobody would believe me .
It wasn't my fault either .
I was only now coming to accept that fact, really .
It was his fault – just his .
Reaching over, I took my mother's hand impulsively and squeezed. "I love you guys," I said softly. "I don't tell you enough ."
"Baby..." Her eyes softened, and she leaned in to hug me, enveloping me in a cloud of perfume. As she pulled back, she gave me a watery smile. "Your father and I have just been talking about the difference in you. Even since Christmas. It's like..." She laughed, a little self-consciously. "It's hard to describe, but you've reclaimed that tenacious, stubborn persona you had when you were a child ."
She didn't say the words before Parker .
But they hung in the air all the same .
"It's a lovely change," she continued, hurrying on as if those unspoken words were going to drastically alter the tone of the night. "Don't misunderstand me. We're delighted. And it's not like you weren't a delight to us all along. But you seem stronger now. Happier too ."
I had been .
I'll be that way again, I told myself. No matter what. I wasn't going back to hiding the way I had been the past few years .
"We've wondered...is there somebody you're seeing?" she asked softly .
The words surprised me, but maybe I should have been expecting them. Mom almost always seemed to ask, as though she believed if I found the right man, he'd make everything better. But I knew better. "Nobody in particular, Mom." And I swallowed down the instinctive jerk of guilt that rose, because it was the truth. I wasn't seeing anybody .
Not anymore .
Twenty-Seven
Jake
"Y ou know, when you told me you wanted to meet and discuss Whitley McCrane, I was hoping you had something juicy for me ."
The cat-eyed blonde sat across the table from me, watching me with a smirk on her face. She also had a glint in her eyes that worried me more than a little, but fuck it .
"Just what did you have in mind?" I asked .
She cocked a brow. "Details about the affair you're having with the senator's wife ?"
"I'm not having an affair with the senator's wife," I said with a shrug. It was nothing more than the truth. I was paid to have sex with her. There was a difference .
Heidi Kramer watched me for a long moment, turning over what I said, clearly trying to decide if I was lying or not. I didn't care what she decided at the moment, although I should. I'd made enough of a mess for Whitley. "I'm inclined to believe you. But there's something between you and Mrs. McCrane. I can see it," she said musingly. She tapped her finger against her chin and continued to study me. "I just can't decide what it might be. You're definitely not a cop ."
"No." I almost choked on my drink, pounding a fist against my chest to clear my airway. "I'm definitely not a cop ."
"Interesting reaction." Her brow winged up even higher. "So you're not her current...love interest, you're not a cop. Are you going to tell me just why you're so determined to find out who my source is ?"
"No." I smiled at her .
She smiled back. "I didn't think so. Maybe we should stop playing games with each other." Leaning forward, she said softly, "I don't reveal my sources, sir. So...you're shit out of luck ."
* * *
T he gym Whitley used in Manhattan was the same one I used, although I rarely visited. My ridiculous gym fee didn't exactly go to waste though .
Sometimes, the place came in handy because it was the safest place to meet up with would-be clients or talk to current clients if we needed some level of privacy .
Not many would think that a whore would use a gym to set up meets with his clientele. But then again, Platinum wasn't the standard gym .
There was security on the doors – discreet as hell, but security all the same. Phones were allowed, of course, and people were welcome to selfie themselves all day long. But if anybody was noticed photographing somebody else – and it was watched for – the staff would make one polite request to see the phone and the pictures before the membership was revoked .
It wasn't much of an issue there. The people who paid that fee did so because they wanted the privacy afforded within these walls .
I met Whitley in the café where she sat near the windows. The privacy-tinted glass afforded a stunning view of the city, and she was taking it in over a smoothie some putrid shade of green when I sat down .
"I'm sorry about all of this, Whit," I said, not sure how I was going to be greeted .
To my surprise, she slid me a warm smile and covered my hand with hers, lacing our fingers as she always did. "Jake, honey...don't be. I'm not ."
I blinked and shook my head. Finally, I asked, "What ?"
"You heard me," she said, a laugh in her voice. She tugged her hand free and stretched, arms high overhead as she brought them forward, linking her fingers and rounding out her shoulders to release the tension in her muscles. "I'm not sorry. Not one little bit." She lowered her hands back to her lap as she settled more comfortably in her chair. "You want to know why ?"
"Ah...yeah. That would be nice ."
"I feel..." She closed her eyes, head falling back. I could see a slow smile curling her lips as she sank back into the padded cushions of the chair. "Free , Jake. Do you know how good it feels to be free from something that's chained you down for so long, you forget you were chained? You just get used to it, after a while. The chain becomes a part of you. But I'm free now ."
I smiled at her. "Free ."
She nodded and took another sip of her drink. "Now, I don't have to worry about what happens if my husband finds out. I don't have to worry about what happens if somebody else knows. Because everybody now knows...and you know what ?"
"What?"
"The sun still rose. It will set today, and it will keep on happening. The world found out and it didn't end." The grin faded from her face as she looked away. "My marriage might. But let's be honest. It hasn't been a real marriage in a very long time, if in fact it ever was. I signed on to become a politician's wife. I should have known that would involve never being happy, shouldn't I ?"
Sympathy squeezed my chest, even though I was happy for her at the same time. "I'm sorry things have been so hard, but it's wonderful to see the smile on your face ."
She inhaled deeply. "Jake, I'm okay . Why look so grim ?"
It was confession time. I'd held this in for way to long. "I told a writer," I said flatly. "I've got a feeling she was the anonymous source. I...fuck. She told me this story about how she'd been raped by her uncle and...hell. I don't know. We were talking and what happened to you slipped out. I told her just the other day, then this hits the press. It's the only thing that makes sense ."
Whitley cocked her head. "How do you think it makes sense ?"
"The same thing happened to you ."
"No." She laughed, but it was a sad, strained sound. "The boy who raped me, awful as it was, was someone I'd gone out on a date with. I barely knew him. Having somebody from your own family..." She shook her head .
"I'm not even –"
"Don't say it, Jake," Whitley said in a voice as hard as any I'd ever heard from her. She leaned
"I...before. Actually, she told me a couple of days before. She'd had a nightmare ..."
Her mouth tightened. "Was it a real nightmare ?"
The sound of Michelle's whimpers, followed by the broken little cries echoed in my ears. "Yeah. It was real. Too real ."
"And you're still sitting here thinking she made something up to...what? Soften you up for information about an incident only a very few people know about ?"
The way she said it made me feel foolish. And worse .
But... "If it wasn't her, then who could have gone to the press? You just said yourself very few people know ."
Whitley was quiet a moment, her finger tapping the side of her glass. "Does she know about you? What you do, I mean ?"
"Yeah."
"There you have it." Whitley gestured with her hand, palm open and up, a little tada moment .
But I didn't understand her big reveal, and she didn't explain right away .
"Don't you see, Jake?" Head cocked, her gleaming ponytail falling to trail over one shoulder, she watched me. "Why would she have reported you and I were having an affair ? That's not what we have going on and you know it. I pay you for sex, for companionship. I pay you so I won't be so fucking lonely. But what would come off as more tawdry in the eyes of the press? You and I having an affair? Or me paying a handsome young man like you for sex ?"
As the light dawned, and a sick feeling spread inside my gut, she settled back in her chair. "You understand now. Here I am, almost forty years old and paying a young stud for sex. That would make me look a lot worse in the press than you and I having an affair. Hell, if I go to the press and talk to the right people about how my husband really is..." She shrugged. "They'd have me looking like Mother Theresa by the time it was all over. Not a woman alive would blame me for looking outside the marriage for something...more, even if it is something I had to pay for ."
I barely heard the rest of her words though. I was too busy seeing the look in Michelle's eyes. She told me she hadn't broken my trust .
Had she been telling the truth ?
No, some part of me insisted. It still made sense .
But that was the stubborn bastard who just couldn't accept that he'd been wrong. And it wasn't about being wrong , even. It was because if I had been wrong, then I'd put that look in her eyes. I'd put that pain on her face .
I didn't want to think that might be possible .
"It feels good not carrying that ugly weight inside," Whitley said, drawing my attention back to her. "Like I said...I feel free . I think I'm almost grateful even, you know that ?"
Dragging my eyes back to her, I waited .
She continued, that faint smile returning to her lips. "I think I'm going to talk to a lawyer, see about getting a divorce...finding my own life. Washington never did make me happy, you know. And I'm not going to let him use this against me. If I do that..." She blew out a breath. "Wow. I really will be free. For the first time in my life. I think I am grateful." She got up then and came around the table, pausing by my side. "Thank you, Jake ."
As she bent to kiss my cheek, I covered the hand she'd put on my shoulder. "For what ?"
"For listening. For caring. For helping me feel good about myself...for just being you ."
She left then, her sneakered feet silent on the gleaming black marble. Once she was gone, the quiet became almost deafening as I thought about just what it was I might have done .
Twenty-Eight
Michelle
A unt Blair picked me up from JFK .
I'd taken a cab there, but when she texted me yesterday to ask if I wanted lunch and I'd told her I was in Philly for a few days, she offered to pick me up and we could get lunch after .
Now, as I sat across from her at one of our favorite bistros a few blocks away from Times Square, I couldn't stop thinking about an interview I'd read online from Whitley McCrane .
She'd given the interview to one of the online sites last night and it had since been read and shared hundreds of thousands of times .
It wasn't because of the 'alleged' affair either .
That was barely even remarked on .
Whitley knew how to spin the media, that was for certain. She'd found somebody to talk to that understood women's issues and the entire focus was on her rape. Much of the story was about how freeing she found it to no longer have to pretend that the entire ordeal hadn't happened, not to have to hide away from it anymore .
"Darling...you're a million miles away again," Aunt Blair said softly .
Shifting my gaze to her, I thought again about what Whitley had said in that article .
Freeing.
What would it be like to be free ? Free of the nerves and the fear and the insistent shame that crept up on me when I was unaware ?
"Honey?" Aunt Blair leaned over and touched cool fingertips to the back of my hand. "Are you okay ?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it. When I opened it again, the words came pouring out like somebody had opened a floodgate .
"Mom's brother Parker raped me. When I was fifteen. He'd been bothering me for months, and I never told anybody because he told me all these lies about how they'd never believe me if I went to them and try to tell..." Everything tumbled out and I couldn't stop it .
Aunt Blair's face was rigid and taut, but her eyes burned hot, then iced over, before burning once more. She listened to every word I said, her hand still resting on mine .
At some point, I turned my palm upward and she laced our fingers .
Still I talked .
"I couldn't stay in Chicago anymore. Mom's family blamed me. It was like it was my fault he'd done something so awful, my fault that he'd gotten caught, my fault that he raped me. They couldn't believe we'd gone to court, were appalled he'd have to go to jail..." My voice hitched, and for a moment, I had to stop and look away .
Aunt Blair just waited, her hand in mine, warm now and steady .
Once I looked back at her, she squeezed my fingers gently. "Keep going," she advised. "You got this far. Don't stop now ."
"They didn't get it," I whispered. "They were angry with us . They blamed us . Mom no longer talks to them. I wasn't there when my grandmother died, I didn't go to her funeral. I didn't want to go. She yelled at me, Aunt Blair. She called me a liar and a whore ..."
My voice broke .
Aunt Blair slid in around the table and settled close to me on the booth, using her body to shield mine from anybody who might be nosy enough to look deep enough into the shadows to see. "She's a horrid old cow, then. It was her fault too. Her fault, and her husband's, for not raising him to be a better man than that. She knows it too. Deep inside. But it's easier for weak people to lash out and blame others." She rocked me a little. "That's why you went to Iowa for college, isn't it? And why you moved here? You had to be away from there. From him...from them ."
"Yes." Covering her forearm with my hand, I leaned against her, uncaring that we were in the middle of a restaurant at the time. Nobody seemed to be paying us any attention anyway. "He did a year in prison, got out for good behavior...good behavior ."
"The judicial system sucks eggs in this country, sweetheart." Easing back, she studied me for a long moment, then gave a slow nod. "You're good. Aren't you ?"
"I'm getting there." Managing a smile, I said, "Hardly anybody knows. Mom and Dad, of course. It barely even hit the papers back home. Mom's family, fighting to protect their boy and all. But
Brushing my hair back, she asked softly. "So, what changed ?"
Needing some space, I eased away and looked out over the restaurant. My water sat in front of me, mostly untouched, and I reached for it, needing to wet my throat. After a long drink, I put it down, then looked over and met my aunt's eyes. She'd understand. Better than most people, I suspected. I didn't know how I knew that, but she would understand .
"Whitley McCrane ."
Her brows rose over her eyes. "Ahhh...I see. I didn't realize you knew her ."
"I don't. I just..." Hesitating a little, I managed to swallow. My voice was husky enough that I don't think she even thought much of it. "I read about it. People were talking about her, and I saw an article ."
It wasn't that far fetched a story, or even much of a lie, because I had heard people talking about her. I'd just had the information beforehand .
"Whitley said..." Blowing out a slow, careful breath, I closed my eyes and reminded myself that I didn't want to start crying in here. I didn't want to freak out in here. I could do this. "She said she felt free after it was all out there. She said she wished she'd had the courage to come forward on her own, but that whoever had done it...they'd done her a favor." I laughed weakly, but the sound, soft as it was, had a note of disbelief. "She gets raked over the coals and countless online new magazines dragged her name through the mud, and she's happy about it. Because they told the story she didn't have the courage to tell ."
* * *
"C an I ask you something personal?"
As we idled to a stop in front of my building, I gave my aunt a narrow look. "Kind of a weird time to ask me that, isn't it ?"
"Considering that I can lock the doors and keep you inside until you answer?" She wagged her brows at me. Then thumbed the locks so they locked. "Ha, ha. No. Seriously, Michelle. You've...changed over the past few weeks. You're more confident. More focused. Steadier." She inclined her head. "Stronger. I asked you once, and you said no, but I can't help but think I'm missing something ."