Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
“I can feel your nerves through the phone, Allie. Maybe you should have a few glasses of champagne before they arrive. The trick with this assignment is in helping everyone to feel relaxed enough to open up and reveal their deepest, darkest secrets and experiences. You won’t do that if you’re trembling like a frightened nun.”
“I may just do that,” I say. “Couldn’t you have found some less attractive well-hung men for me to interview? I’m sure there are plenty of sixty plus dudes who are packing. At least then, all the conversation would be gross.”
“I forgot to mention that there’s a photographer coming at some point to take some shots of the process.” She emphasizes the last word, and I can imagine her making mental air quotes around the word.
“Please tell me you’re not expecting me to be in the photos.” The thought of posing makes me cringe.
“You need to be in at least one. The whole idea of having the interviews conducted in such a spectacular setting is to make the article aspirational. I’ve chosen men who’ll look good by the pool and on the beach to make all the interesting tidbits you’re going to discover titillating.”
“Yeah. I can see how that will make it more interesting,” I muse, drifting into the part of the cavernous space which feels like it could be a kitchen. There’s no sink, refrigerator, or stove on show, just a long dark stone counter above dark wood cabinets and a stretch of floor to ceiling matching doors that run along the back wall. I test-push a door and it pops open to reveal a cupboard filled with glasses, plates, bowls, and mugs.
Bingo.
The next door pops out, but I have to slide it along to reveal the sink and stove, and a coffee machine that’s so shiny and large, it would rival Starbucks in sophistication.
“I should go,” I say, before my mind can catch up with my tongue. There’s too much to do before the army of jumbo sausage-packers arrives, and I need to get my shit together.
“Okay, Allie. I’ll call you to check in later.”
“How about tomorrow?” I say quickly, biting my lip when I realize how abrupt I sound. “I’ll have a chance to sound them all out by then.”
Kirsty clicks her pen in quick succession, the way she always does when I frustrate her. “Tomorrow then.”
We say our goodbyes and I leave my phone on the cool countertop, drifting around to check out the seating area with four long, low, tan leather couches and a table that feels more like a solid wood art installation than a functional piece of furniture. The stairs are stark and made from the same light wood as the flooring. They stretch without a handrail into the upper part of the house which I explore, finding room after room of the same huge beds dressed with crisp white linens. On top, they are decorated with dark green pillows that contrast against the dark wood headboards and tie in with the prolific number of houseplants that bring life and vibrancy to the house.
I choose a room for myself that’s at the end of the hallway, wanting to be as far from the strangers that I’m being forced to live with as I can be. It’s not the largest room, but it has a corner view that sweeps across the full stretch of beach and overlooks the house next door a little. I perch on the edge of the bed and watch a family enjoying their pool. One pretty woman with a neat blonde bob plays with two little boys. Three men sit at the edge of the pool, joining in with the kids, splashing and tossing a ball back and forth. On two pool loungers, an older man and woman recline. The man is on the phone and the woman is reading a book. It’s a sweet scene of a multigenerational family spending time together, and I’m filled with a pang of emptiness that takes me by surprise.
Yes, I’ve been conscious of the fact that my friends are all rushing to settle down around me and I’m nowhere near even finding a date for a Saturday night. As an only child, family time has always felt a little one dimensional. My parents live hours from where I’ve had to settle to be close to my job. We speak on the phone each week, but the longer I’m away and not seeing them in person, the more disconnected I feel. This week will be filled with more social interaction than I’ve had since leaving college.
As anxious as I am about the task in front of me, I’m also intrigued. What kind of men would sign up for an assignment like this?
Arrogant men, probably. Cocky assholes who get a kick out of telling everyone about what a big cock they have. Maybe perverts who get off on the idea of talking about their cock with a woman. Ugh. I can’t stand arrogance, and perverts need to be tossed on an island somewhere where they can’t bother anyone else.