Color Me Your Color

Without speaking another word to him, I ran to my room and quickly slid on the red dress. A gaze in the mirror assured me I was all wrong. My makeup was wrong, my hair was wrong, my dress showed rolls, and I was wobbling in my heels. I didn't look like a high-class call girl. I looked like a mess.

When I finally gained enough courage to step back out, I noticed Tate and Morgan were talking in hushed murmurs. When they noticed my presence, they stopped. I could taste the anger in the air. Of course I was curious, but I couldn't demand an explanation yet. I just stored away the incident for later and plastered on a smile for now.

"Let's go," Tate ordered. "The limo is waiting."

I followed, without realizing that I was already filling my role quite well.

*****

"We'll have the bigeye tuna tataki, sea urchin tempura, followed by the spicy garlic scallops and the Colorado lamb chops." Tate handed the menus to the waiter, never taking his eyes off me. I was being tested. For what, I wasn't certain. If he was trying to test my stomach, I knew my stomach and I would lose. I was a picky eater and none of his choices were appealing to me. Unnerved by his constant gaze, I fidgeted and took an unwanted sip of the sake. I knew I would hate it and I was absolutely correct. I had to fight spitting it out.

Tate laughed under his breath and I finally forced myself to look at him. He nodded at my cup. "Why are you drinking it if you don't like it?"

I shrugged and then realized that probably wasn't the most graceful thing to do. "You ordered it. I figured it must be good."

"What do you typically like to drink? Sweet white wine? Red?"

"Red. Any kind."

He waved the waiter over and ordered me a glass. His smile was strangely friendly when he looked back at me. "All you need to do is ask, Johanna."

"Thank you."

"You're perfect for this job, aren't you? All blushes and blissful ignorance. All 'thank you' and 'yes, please'. Drinking something you don't like because I ordered it. Not speaking up and saying you are repulsed by what I ordered us for dinner."

It was like I was sixteen and getting berated by my father again. The feeling wasn't fun and I unexpectedly lashed out. "Fuck you. If you want to order sea urchin, fine. You're paying for it."

"I'm also paying you to have a brain. To be exciting. To have a little fire in you. Otherwise you're no different from a body I can hire for fifty bucks."

The pressure of tears welled up behind my eyes and I blinked to hold them back. "I'm leaving."

Tate rolled his eyes and took hold of my wrist. "Calm down. I'm telling you what I want. I want you to be you. If you want to have red wine, have the red wine. It's not hard."

I ripped my wrist out of his hold and stared at the table. We were quiet for a while. I sat sullenly like a chastised teenager while he lounged serenely, sipping his sake and picking at the strange assortment of food that had been brought out.

I wondered what my father would think if he could see me now. He used to go crazy if I got a 90 on a test, or if I came home from school five minutes later than usual. What would he say if he knew I was on a "date" with my "benefactor?"

"What are your thoughts on your new profession, Johanna?"

The question made me jump. His hands were folded beneath his chin and he was waiting with an eager look on his face.

"Are you asking if I like it so far or something?" I was suspicious.

He gave a short laugh. "No. I mean what are your thoughts about the morals of it all?"

My heart thudded unpleasantly. "Fuck you."

Tate laughed again. "You keep saying that to me tonight. Not yet, honey. Later." My heart pumped unsteadily due to the intent in his eyes. "I'm not trying to insult you. I'm curious. Do you think this is something you could potentially like? Maybe even get addicted to? Or will you slink off once you save up all the money you need and pretend like the time with me was all a bad dream?"

My stomach churned. The food smelled horrible and the words he used were ugly and peeling away at the mask I'd crafted for the evening. I was beginning to wonder if he got off on demeaning his girls. "I don't like these questions."

"Why?" His finger toyed with the rim of his plate. "Is it because they bring you back down to Earth?"

"If you're asking if this is how I wanted to end up, the answer would be no. Definitely not. I look down on women who do this, and now I look down on myself even more." He opened his mouth to speak but now the floodgates were opened and I couldn't stop. "And I find the men who go out and so called 'support' these girls are the real assholes because they're taking advantage. And right now I'm thinking the worst of you because not only are you taking advantage, but you're being a dick while doing it. You like making me feel like shit."

He ran a hand roughly through his hair, and let out a brittle laugh. "Being a dick is my nature. You'll have to get used to it. And honestly, at the moment I'm just trying to have a conversation with you. I'm curious about you."

That got me blushing. "You are?"

His face grew serious. "Remember your name isn't Julia, or Vivian, or whatever her name fucking was. You're Johanna and I'm paying you."

He opened his briefcase and there it was: the contract Morgan warned me about. It was brief and what I expected. Most of it was about privacy; I would agree not to disclose anything specific about what went on between us. Basically, that I wouldn't go around at dinner parties shouting I was a paid companion.

"It's up to you, and you can end this anytime you want. Me, too. Only sign this if this is something in which you're interested, but you are still not bound to me. Understand?" I nodded. He smiled. "I will never force you, okay?"

I kept reading. After a while the words blurred together. I reached for his pen and signed my name in a grand flourish. The ink bled together, making my name unrecognizable.

*****

The rest of dinner was interesting. He asked me a few questions about the other facets of my life that I dodged.

"What does your father do?"

I took a sip of water and looked around the restaurant, grateful we were fairly secluded. I happened to know my father loved coming into Nobu. "Something incredibly boring. How about your father?"

He stared at me for a moment, letting me know he wasn't thrilled with my answer. "Same as me. Finances. You wouldn't want to hear about it."

"Wall Street?"

Tate nodded. "Enough boring chat. I have something for you, now that this stuff between us is a done deal."

He reached back into his briefcase and brought out a large blue box with silver lettering on it. I recognized the brand immediately: Swarovski. My mother used to wear Swarovski jewelry all the time. The necklace was huge and ostentatious. It must have cost him a fortune. Links of crystal knotted together all around in a large but graceful swoop. Without asking me, he unclasped the plain necklace my mother bought me four years ago that said my name in delicate script. I felt the weight of the necklace across my collarbones as he fastened it. He stroked the necklace and caught a couple of inches of my sensitive skin. He gazed at my lips when he whispered, "Now you're mine."

My head was fuzzy. I drank another glass of wine and let the rest of dinner fade into merely background noise. I lost track of his words, of me, of the waiters around us.

He paid the bill and we walked out together in the brisk December night. The sky was clear and stars were white and pure, twinkling down judgmentally at me. My heel trapped itself in a crack and Tate knelt down, skimming his hands down my bare leg and over the muscle of my calf on his way to freeing me.

I could have sworn he kissed my knee before getting my heel out but I was drunk and it happened so fast.

Andrew, Tate's limo driver, was waiting patiently by the back to let us in. I searched his face for any suspicion, any knowledge of who and what I was to his boss, but he gave me a small smile that seemed genuine. I told myself to get over it.

The feeling of cold leather sliding against my skin was bizarrely soothing when I got into the car. Tate thumped down next to me and told Andrew to take me back to my place. I thought maybe he would make a move on me, but he didn't. I was a little confused and he noticed with a short laugh.

"I want to, but I want you to want it, too. I'm not interested in pressuring you."

I stared at him with wide eyes, wildly impressed. We pulled up at my apartment building. His eyes flicked down to my necklace, then to my cleavage. "Can I kiss you, though?"

I recognized that I had a choice in this; I didn't have to kiss him that night if I didn't want to. Still, I wanted to kiss him. I thought he was the most attractive man I'd ever met, and he was paying me to hang out with him. It would have made more sense if I were the one paying, but I didn't let myself get caught up with those thoughts. He wanted to kiss me, and I wanted to kiss him fiercely.

"Yes," I said in a low voice that didn't sound anything like me.

He leaned over slowly, giving me an opportunity to change my mind. Then his full lips descended upon my own. Our first kiss was outstanding. There was nothing awkward or weird about it; it was thrilling how he just took charge and kissed me deeply, as if he'd been kissing me this way for years. Only when he pulled back to look at me did I become shy again.

Tate's lips slowly turned up, but he didn't look amused. "This has the potential to be disastrous."

"What?"

"Never mind." He kissed me again, then pulled back when the car came to a stop. "I could kiss you all night."

"So could I," I admitted with a deep blush.

He sighed. "Goodnight, Johanna."

"Um... bye, Tate." It felt weird saying his name. The awkwardness was intense, so I was grateful when Andrew opened the door for me.

I went back inside and turned to watch the limo drive away. Feeling drunk, I went upstairs and ignored Morgan sitting up on the couch, watching me with alert eyes.

"Well?"

I reluctantly turned to her and she gasped when saw my face.

"Holy fuck. You're high!"

"What? I am not!"

"Not literally high, idiot," she said, shaking her head as she stood and came over to me. "You like him and you're feeling the high." Her light blue eyes traveled down my body. "I wondered if you'd feel it, too."

"I didn't. I don't."

Morgan looked at me with pity. "Sweetness? Go look in the mirror. It's all over your face."

She walked to her room but paused before shutting the door. "And it's okay, by the way. It means it's good. You'll enjoy it." Her eyes met mine. "Just don't get addicted. It's easy to, and that will be the end for you. Remember, drugs are good in moderation." She lowered her eyes and smirked. "By the way, nice necklace."

I touched it gently, having forgotten it was there. Now it felt as heavy as an albatross. Morgan went to bed and I made tea robotically, definitely not thinking about Tate. I sunk into a hot bath, putting my tea next to me. My eyes closed and I tried to relax.

Unfortunately, Morgan's words haunted me. Irritated but curious, I stepped out of the bath, dripping water every which way, and stomped over to the mirror.

And then I knew why Morgan gasped. I was fucking glowing. I was grinning. I was unrecognizable.

I touched the lips that Tate had kissed and hoped he would call soon.

*****

I was in a cage of snakes. They hissed and flapped their tongues at me, watching me with their beady eyes that flashed with a mixture of hunger and amusement. I had nowhere to go; every time I twitched they snapped their heads at me. I could nearly smell the venom swelling in their mouths. They wanted to penetrate my skin with their fangs, inject their poison. Kill me. I cried out for help but we were alone in a dark, damp cellar. That's when I noticed the large silver links chaining me to the ground. My screams bounced off the empty walls. There was nothing to save me.

I woke up screaming, sweat sticking my clothes to my body. There were no snakes in my bedroom, just the lingering sensation of bad memories.

Morgan watched me carefully when I stumbled out and fixed breakfast. "I had a bad dream the first night, too," she said, drawing me from swirling around my Cheerios.

I let out a long breath. "Is this the part where we bond over being whores?"

Morgan sighed and put some sugar in her tea. "Good for you. You're getting a spine."

I instantly felt bad. "I'm sorry, Morgan. I just haven't had coffee yet."

"I know what it's like to feel disgusted with yourself. To feel like the hottest shower you can take will never be enough to clean off all the slime. To look yourself in the mirror and be unrecognizable. It's not going to get any easier. So, if you want to come and talk to me about it, I'm here."

******

The next day Morgan forced me to go panty shopping. I dragged my heels and acted like a brat on the entire walk over.

"My panties are fine!"

Morgan snorted. "All of yours are ripped or from 2003."

"That's not true!" She dragged me into Victoria's Secret by the elbow, ignoring me. "I like my underwear."

"It's boring and not fitting for a woman in your trade."

"Now you sound like you're from the 1800's."

Morgan ignored me and beckoned over an associate. "She needs an entirely new wardrobe."

"Morgan, I can't afford..."

"I meant to give you this envelope." Morgan handed me something with my name on it. I didn't recognize the messy handwriting but I knew who it belonged to, anyway. "It's from Tate. He came by this morning and you were still asleep."

I blushed thinking of him being around when I was unconscious. And that he returned to me so quickly, even if it was just to pay me.

"He says he'll call you tonight. Anyway, I highly suggest you spend some of it on this, Jo."

She looked back at the girl helping us and nodded. The eager associate brought over one set of lingerie more provocative than the next. Morgan picked it all out for me, something for which I was totally grateful. She headed over to the register when we were done. Now I had all the finest lingerie in sapphire, blush, crimson, plum, and sage. I didn't see the bill and Morgan handled the transaction, but I could just imagine what the final amount was. It made me sick to my stomach, but I felt even more grotesque when Morgan gave me what was left over and it was close to $2,000.

"How the hell much did he give me for one dinner out?" I asked. "It's not like I even gave him a blowjob!"

An associate glanced at us with wide eyes and then fixed them back on the underwear she was arranging. Morgan laughed and wrapped her arm around mine, leading me out into the late afternoon. "You really have no idea. It's almost cute. I wonder what you'll be like with the others."

"The others?"

Morgan grinned at me. "You don't have to see just one at a time. There's nothing in the contract about that, at least not usually. And you could make more money faster."

"I don't think I could do that."

Morgan walked into Starbucks and shrugged. "Only you know what you're capable of, and even then you'll surprise yourself."

She ordered a latte and I watched her, forever marveling at her self-confidence. "Why do you do this, Morgan? Really. I mean, I know you're saving up for med school, but you spend a lot of it, too. You don't save as much as you could. You act like you enjoy it."

She took her finished latte and smirked at me. "Because I do. There's a certain power in it, like when you give a blowjob." She handed the barista a five and ushered me out into the afternoon. "I know a guy. He's nice. I've been with him a few times. You'd like him." She sipped her latte and put on oversized sunglasses. It was all so natural for her. I couldn't stand it.

I tugged on my hair and shook my head. "Having sex with two guys at once is outlandish for me; getting paid for it is just outrageous."

"Why? If you're doing it, baby, you might as well go all the way."

*****

"You're shitting me," Iggy shrieked.

I shushed him, but it was too late. The entire restaurant was staring at us. "Can you please keep your voice down, especially about this?"

Iggy rolled his eyes, but thankfully he lowered his voice when he continued. "Morgan actually persuaded you to do this? I'm beyond baffled, honey. You didn't... do anything with him yet, right?"

Iggy was our neighbor. He was a nurturing, supportive and kind man who took care of me. He was forty-eight and a bit of my polar opposite, but he was probably my closest friend. Iggy was also a massive hippie, with long, curly hair and dubious outfits. He had third degree burns all over his torso, which he said changed him forever. He had been in an incredibly abusive relationship with an old boyfriend, and he was stuck in the cycle for years. He had a horrible opinion of himself, which brought about a huge drug addiction. One night, he got into an explosive argument with the boyfriend, which resulted in Iggy being set on fire. Iggy survived and managed to press charges against the ex-boyfriend. After he recovered, Iggy vowed that he would be kinder to himself. He checked into rehab and met his husband, Luke. Iggy was sort of my hero.

He was not a big fan of Morgan. When I mentioned that Morgan wanted to set me up with someone, his no was loud and forceful. I didn't expect he would take the news that I went against his wishes well, but I had hoped he would be accepting.

"No," I sighed. "We haven't done anything, except kiss. It was amazing, by the way, but he said something about us possibly being disastrous."

"Oh, shit. That means he's got issues."

"You think?"

Iggy aggressively cut into his waffles and nodded. "Think about it: what the hell does that even mean? Was he warning you or something? Why would a guy say that?"

"I have no idea. It's bothering me, obviously, but I can't let it get to me."

He stopped cutting and examined me. "You really need the money that much, Jo?"

"You know I do. Desperately." I sighed and drank some coffee. Iggy just looked at me, sympathy evident in his big brown eyes. "Don't look at me like that, Ig. You know the situation. I have no other choice."

"Of course you have a choice, and you already made it."

"Are you disappointed in me?"

"Never. Listen, I get it, and if I looked like you and I was in your situation, I might consider it, too. I just feel bad it had to get to this point, and I'm worried about you. He's already issuing warnings to you and trying to sound like some big bad dick."

The waitress came over to fill my coffee cup. When she walked away, I started crying. I couldn't help it. "I'm sorry for crying, but I just feel so messed up right now."

"I know, honey. Are you sure this is the right decision? You can still back out."

I tugged the necklace from my purse to show him. "He gave me this."

"Holy shit!" A bunch of diners looked over at us. Iggy apologized, but they still looked less than thrilled. "This is legit."

"I know."

"Does he think he's Christian Grey?" Iggy's eyes became comically wide. "He's not going to make you do BDSM shit, is he?"

"No," I said, rolling my eyes. Then a surge of fear went through my body. "At least, I hope not."

"Shit, Jo. You know I love you, no matter what, and I'll support you fully in whatever you do. I'm just concerned."

"I know. So am I. I still need to pay my rent, though."

He took my hand and squeezed. "I know. Listen, I guess... try it out, but be careful!"

"He's already told me this isn't going to be Pretty Woman. I don't think he's going to try to be romantic or anything."

Iggy regarded me over his coffee. "Jo, you obviously like the guy. Just don't be stupid, okay?"

Then Iggy changed the subject, something for which I was eternally grateful. I was tired of talking about myself and thinking about all of the ways it could go badly with Tate. Plus, I had Iggy's tepid seal of approval, which made me feel immensely better.