Romance: The Quarterback's Touch, page 47
It was a personality test, and it tested his patience. Heat makes you mad, and cold makes you tired, and the Head Mistress wanted to see if Johnny was overly passive or angry. That was no problem. He sat back in the chair with his arms folded, and let his thoughts drift. He thought of his new wife and how pleasant it would be to finally be done with Crystal.
When the door opened, a young blond woman walked in wearing a tight white shirt and an even tighter short skirt. She had no bra on, he’d bet anything that she was wearing no panties either – the skirt was just too tight. This was obviously just another test. But it was still totally tantalizing.
“Tell her this is stupid. I'll pick the woman”, Johnny said.
The blond was holding a clipboard and started jotting something down. “Right this way.” Johnny watched the girl's butt sashay as she walked down the hallway. He was a man after all.
They stopped in front of a black door and she said, “Wait here please Mr. Casper,” then walked in, leaving him in the hallway. There was a short wait then a tiny woman, not much taller than five feet walked out. She had a stern glare a roller set that was almost a foot high. She took herself seriously. Judging by her age and her reputation, she had a right to.
“That way,” she pointed down the hallway to the left. “Second to last door on the right.” She waited for him to go, then followed him . They walked into a square room that looked like an interrogation chamber with a desk and a two way mirror.
“You're not gonna torture me, are you?”
The Head Mistress scowled and took a pad out of her black a-line dress and jotted down some notes. “You are wanting a wife?” She had a thick, dark accent, but he couldn't place it.
“Yes. I want somebody I can actually settle down with, a woman that really understands me.” She was writing furiously. “I am a billionaire, and that means she can't be petty or dramatic. She has to be down-to-earth, trustworthy—someone I can entrust those type of things to.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-six.”
“Look to the left.” The mirror went transparent, and he saw a line of women, but he could tell they couldn't see him.
“Do you find any of these women attractive?” It was a line of models.
“What do you think?”
She nodded her head and started jotting down notes. “You want more from your woman?”
“Of course. I don't know that I want these women. I want a real woman—not a piece of plastic.”
“OK,” She pressed a button on the side of the mirror. “You may enter.”
A more diverse group of women walked in. One was a blond with short curly hair in a tight knit sweater. She was imperfect, but she had charm. Another was a skinny red head with a lot of freckles. His eyes kept sticking on a brunette with long wavy hair. Her outfit was ridiculous, not because it looked bad, but because it stood out. She looked like she was trying to seem like one of the other women and he could see why. The bottom of her eyes were lighter than the rest of her face. She had dark circles and her shoulders hunched just like his.
He knew the signs of loss better than he knew his own hand. He could see the way her cheeks puffed up from too many tears and the way she tried too hard to smile. It was endearing because she would understand him. He turned to the woman and she looked over at him.
“You recently lost somebody,” she said. “I can see it in you.” She sighed. “Do you think that woman is beautiful?”
He saw something in her, a dreamer maybe, or perhaps a bit of passivity. She reminded him of a Botticelli angel, who had the right shape, and for him, the right size. “Dear Jesus, yes.”
For just a second, he thought he saw a smile come over the Head Mistresses face, and had he not seen it, he wouldn't have thought it possible. “You will meet her tonight.”
Chapter 11
The women were standing in a long line in the interview room. Marlow found the whole experience rather demeaning. She wasn't a piece of meat at a supermarket, and they weren't going to be able to hide the fact that she was on display. She could see the black glass in front of her, and she didn't like being judged like that. She was just as good as the rest of those women.
The Head Mistress walked in and stood in front of the line, holding a silver key. She turned to the models and said, “You are dismissed.” They left the room, leaving the rest of the women looking a little disturbed. “It was not my intention to cause you distress,” the Head Mistress addressed them. “Our bachelors are here to find wives, but they cannot do that if all they care about is the way you look, so I hire models in an effort to interview you, and the men. If he is looking only for superficial beauty, and if you cannot deal with such women confidently, then your relationship will be filled with insecurities and mistrust.” She cast her gaze from woman to woman until she looked at each and every woman, and then looked directly at Marlow.
“Ladies you are all dismissed. But Marlow, please wait.”
After the room had cleared she spoke directly to Marlow. “Marlow, you will have your first date this evening.” The door to the right opened, and the same blonde who met with Johnny walked in. “This is Andrea, she will take you to get ready.”
Marlow followed her into the hall, and then another room filled with racks of clothes and a large mirror. Andrea had her step in front of the mirror and turn around. “You should get rid of those clothes. We'll keep them here until you are done, but...”
“They're not that bad, are they?” Andrea shrugged ambiguously.
“When was the last time you had your hair done?” She picked up a strand of hair and looked at it closely. “It's not that bad, but I wanna do something different with it. Is that OK?”
“I want to keep it long.” Andrea nodded her head.
“I think we can do this. Let's go.”
“Where are we going?” Marlow seemed puzzled.
“There's no stylist here and you have no good clothes. We are going to go to see Carlo.”
She led Marlow outside, into a black luxury SUV, that looked like it belonged in a car show. Marlow looked over at Andrea sitting beside her and noticed her designer clothes, and she had a huge wedding ring on her hand. Not only was the girl married, she had money. “Were you one of the Head Mistresses clients?”
Andrea pulled out of the parking lot. “Yes, but that was a long time ago.”
“Was it hard starting out?”
“It was really tough,” she said. “It’s a lot different than dating where you can pick and choose. If you want to marry a billionaire, you’ve got to adapt. You're going to find that you are learning a bit about him, and how to manage him every single day, and that takes a lot of work.” Marlow didn't like the sound of that.
“My first marriage wasn't like that.”
“This is different. You get what you get and you have to work with it. You don't know what kind of baggage this person brings, and if it doesn’t work out, the Head Mistress will not allow you to come back and try again. And she asks for a six month commitment.”
“Six months?” That was outrageous. She couldn't devote six months to somebody she barely knew.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because if you run at the first sign of trouble, marriage isn't for you.” Marlow couldn't disagree, but the methods were a little extreme for her tastes. She didn't have much option, though, and since she wanted a rich husband she would have to go along with it.
“I won’t have to marry him straight away, will I?”
“No.”
“Oh, thank God. That would be a little too extreme.”
“Only after the second date.” Marlow didn't like that at all.
Chapter 12
The Headmistress came into the reception area and pulled Johnny back to what was obviously her real office. This woman had trick after trick. It almost made him wonder whether or not she just played with people.
Her office was more stately, with a plush dark burgundy carpet and white walls with white crown molding. She had various decorations, mostly following the same color pattern incorporating dark purples. But it was her use of contrasting accent pieces that intrigued him.
He thought the woman would be stylish, but she had a style of her own. She had a long mahogany desk with a black leather chair in front and a larger one in black that fit her height perfectly. The office was clearly manly, something he assumed was supposed to put clients at ease. He wasn't yet sure whether or not to take The Headmistress seriously, or whether she could really perform on the contracted task, but she did have a philosophy that made sense.
“The reason I called you back here, Mr. Casper is to lay out some of the rules regarding your dating period.” She pulled out a small silver box from her desk drawer and pulled out a cigarette, which she stuck on a long old fashioned cigarette holder.
“First, we don't allow our clients to fund the dates.”
“Might I ask why.”
“Well, we don't want you to show off.” She took a long puff and blew smoke into the air. “If you do that, the women won't want you for who you really are.”
He let it sit for a second. “Don’t they know that I'm rich?”
“Not exactly. They know all our clients are well to do, but they won’t know how rich, and we will not be telling them. We don’t want them to figure it out until at least after the second date. During this time, your dynamic will be under close examination.”
“What are we supposed to do on the date?” He wanted his lady to have the best, and he wasn't sure he could really impress her if he didn't do the things he knew he could do.
“We have many packages available.”
“If you'll excuse my candour, what sort of quality can I expect?”
She gave him an icy glare and reached under the desk to pull out a black leather binder. “I get it,” she began. “You know what I'm saying is true, though. These women don't ride on private jets and travel to different cities for dinner. They live simple, middle class lives. Some of them will pretend to fall in love with you, whether they are doing it on purpose or not, just because of your wealth.” She ashed her cigarette and handed him the folder.
He got it. Maybe it was for the best. Vicky was the one that chose this place, and it was probably for that reason. Two dates was way too little time to really get to know whether or not to begin making a commitment, but it would be enough to begin to get a feel for the woman. Johnny opened the booklet and flipped through the laminated pages.
“The date I would suggest for you is The Lantern. It starts on page six.”
He turned to it. The Lantern is a popular restaurant in downtown Houston, and a live band that plays soft jazz music. “It looks alright.”
“It is casual, but it is also romantic.” He flipped through the booklet to see the date called the Garden. It was at a higher class restaurant just north of the city, with fine cuisine and rose gardens that they could walk through.
“What about the Garden?”
“It is more romantic. The walk is for people who want a more intimate experience.”
“I think I want that one.”
“It's too intimate for you.” She put out her cigarette.
“I'm looking for marriage. If it's the long haul we're talking about, there's no real easing into it. We need to find intimacy. Either she's comfortable with me or she isn't.”
“It would be a mistake, Mr. Casper.” She was insistent.
“But it's what I want.”
And so preparations were made, and Johnny was sent back to a dressing room to get ready. Johnny wasn't putting up pretense or sticking his toes in the water. He was never a cautious man, and he always kept control. He knew that to be the correct combination. If he could turn the date into a more intimate direction without making it awkward, then things might just work. It might be hard, but if there was serious difficulty, then it wasn't right in the first place. He knew women and he knew how to impress. He had reigned in quite a few women, and he knew what he needed to do.
He wore his favorite white dress shirt, tight jeans and bolo tie. He wasn't dressing up, he was expressing his individuality to see whether or not the woman liked him. If he was just trying to get into the girl's pants, he might put on a power suit, and act carefully around her, but The Headmistress wasn't giving them time to ease into things, and if he acted fake, then she really would just want him for his money.
They took him in a plain white Sedan north of the city to a small estate, surrounded by pine trees and wildflowers where a private room had been reserved for them with a table that sat next to a wood burning fire place. A warm fire was burning. The ambiance was perfect. It was low lit with tan walls and dark wood flooring. There was no centerpiece on the table in order to facilitate conversation. A pamphlet on the table described the restaurant grounds so that the couple would be encouraged to go walk around, which Johnny was excited to do.
Johnny arrived first. He stood waiting to the side of the table with his hands folded where he could see the entrance. He was holding a single white rose. He was anxious. He wasn't sure what to expect, but he was going to be realistic. She probably wasn't going to be the one; she was just the first and he was just trying to find her. It was like digging for truffles. You can do it a long time before you actually find one, but if you don't look it'll never happen.
The blond from the matchmaking service walked in wearing a professional black and white pantsuit with a black folder in her hands. She smiled over at Johnny and then looked back towards the entrance, drawing Johnny’s gaze with her. When his date walked in, Johnny hardly recognized her. She was wearing a white dinner gown and had her black hair folded up above her head with rhinestones covering the back. The light fell on her perfectly, accenting her best features, her beautiful long hair, rounded face, and her fabulous figure. He was enchanted, but he was careful.
He smiled and walked over. “Hello.”
“Hi,” she was nervous. He could ease her in once he figured out her style.
“This is for you.” He handed her the rose and she took it, and held it in her hand. “I'm Johnny. They didn't tell me your name.”
“I'm Marlow.”
“Well, Marlow, I feel kinda privileged to be able to come out here and meet with you.” She blushed.
“Thank you. You're very kind.” Her voice had the forcefulness of a woman who spoke her mind with the elegance of a woman who knew how to act.
He went to pull out her chair, but saw she had gone to the other side of the table and was sitting herself down. “Oh, uh...” He laughed.
“Oh, I'm sorry. Were you pulling out my chair for me?” She let her forehead fall into her palm, clearly embarrassed.
He laughed. “I'm probably the least formal person you've ever met. It doesn't bother me at all.” He took his napkin and winked at her as he folded it into his collar like a bib.
“Oh, god.” She laughed. “That's pretty good. It is a bit formal isn't it?”
“It is. The Headmistress had me pick the place, and mentioned another less formal place, but I liked the idea of walking around in the garden after dinner. Was that a bad idea?”
“Oh, no. In fact, I love gardens and would love to go for a walk out there after dinner.” The waiter came out with menus and they ordered. He asked for water and she ordered a soda. Neither of them wanted to drink. She ordered a steak, medium rare, and he ordered the same.
“It's nice to see a woman that doesn't just peck at a salad.”
“Way I see it, a salad is nice, but it's not a meal. I want real food and real people.”
When the food came, they both reached for the salt shaker and he felt her hand touch his, sending out a burst of electricity up his arm. They both noticed, and their eyes met. She quickly drew back her hand blushing, but he was intrigued. The chemistry was a little bit of a surprise. He hadn't had much faith in this process, but he was quickly becoming a believer, and he wanted it to go further.
They ate their food without a lot of conversation having been caught off guard by the newly discovered mindset they both displayed. Johnny popped a piece of steak in his mouth and watched the way a strand of hair fell over in front of her eye while she waited. Her dress was new, something they must have bought for her at the marriage service. The Headmistress was full of tricks, but this was thinly veiled. He could tell that she wasn't at home in places like this. He wasn't either, and had long avoided a luxurious lifestyle.
“Where do you live,” Marlow asked, tired of the silence.
“In a Dallas suburb called Paradise Valley.”
“I've never been there. Is it nice?”
“It's alright. It's a lot hotter there, and it doesn't snow in the winter.”
“Have you lived in Texas all your life?” He took a sip of water and watched as she went to finish her bite.
“No. I'm from Denver.” She took a sip and waited for him to ask something else. He sensed something there, so he dug softly.
“What brought you here?” She stayed silent, and he let that one go. She faced something terrible.
“You know,” she finished her food and set down her fork. “I don't think this is too bad.”
“I agree.”
“In fact, maybe there's a chance.” She squinted her eyes and looked at him playfully. “I mean it's slim, of course.”
“Hey, now. I heard The Headmistress makes us guys choose straight away.”
“Oh,” she laughed. “Then I hope you make the right choice.” He reached out and took her hand.
“I know I would like get to know you better.”
“Well, I might let you come around again.” She smiled a coy smile as she stroked the back of his palm, sending sparks running through his hand. She saw him shiver, and met his eyes. She reached out and ran her finger along his rough chin, an innocent gesture that spoke of intrigue. He had sway with this woman, and he wasn't sure what to think of that. He would be gentle.
