“Are you pretty?” Cora asks.
“According to others, I am. But I never was in my mother’s eyes.”
“What did your mother say to you about the way you look?”
God, you look just like that Scottish bastard. I heard that from her so many times that it became as much a part of my DNA as the X chromosome that he gave me. “She said that I looked like my father.”
“Did she hate him?”
“She did eventually.” His marriage to Heidi changed everything. My mother couldn’t take his being happy with another woman.
“She saw him when she looked at you?”
“Yes.”
“We grow up and become women, but no matter how old we get, we always have a wee lass living inside of us.”
I’ve never heard anyone say anything like that, but I suppose it’s true at least to some degree.
“Tell me about the wee lass inside of you.”
Little Caity Louden. She’s not someone that I like to think about. Her story isn’t a happily-ever-after fairy tale. “Her father abandoned her before she was born. She was raised by a single mom in the trashiest part of New Orleans. Her mother worked at a bar on Bourbon Street, but she drank more cocktails than she served.”
“Keep going.”
“She learned at a very early age how to fend for herself because no one took care of her.” No one loved her. It’s hard to admit, even to myself only in my head, that the one person in this world who was supposed to love me unconditionally didn’t.
“And?” Cora says.
“Her tears ran dry and her delicate, soft heart hardened. It turned to stone.”
Cora nods. “Stone is strong and resilient.”
My eyes move to hers. “Stone is cold and resistant to penetration without being broken.”
“Also true.”
I look back at myself. “I’m damaged. Something’s missing inside of me. A piece of me is not here.”
Cora walks around and stands in front of me so that we’re face-to-face. “Strong people don’t have easy pasts, and the scars they carry prove that they are stronger than whatever tried to hurt them. You’re a warrior and a beautiful young woman who is deserving of good things and happiness. You’re special, Caitriona, whether you realize it or not. Our pasts aren’t all that different; I understand you far better than you can ever imagine.”
Cora’s words are… empowering and soothing at the same time.
She crouches, unnecessarily repositioning the shoes in front of me, and I see the act for what it truly is. She’s lowering herself and elevating me. “Toes go in first, beautiful warrior.”
I grow three inches when I step into the shoes. She stands upright, and it feels good to look this powerful, independent woman in the eyes. She makes me want to be stronger.
“Diamonds are beautiful. And they’re also flawed. They don’t crack but they do cut.” Cora places a finger beneath my chin, lifting it slightly, and looks directly into my eyes. “Be a diamond, Caitriona.”
2
Maxwell Hutcheson
I’m sitting in the dark corner, scanning the sea of women. Blondes, brunettes, redheads. Tall, average, short. Slim, fit, curvy. The choices are endless.
The men at this gala are swarming around the women like bees to honey. Or dicks to pussy. Aye, definitely dicks to pussy. Every man here is hoping to take a bonnie lass into his bed tonight. And they will for the right price.
I like to think of myself and my circumstances as different from the other men at this event, but I’m kidding myself. I’m going to pay for a woman just like all of them.
“I’m glad you came tonight. This is exactly what you need.”
“Well, I have you to blame if it’s not.”
Brady, my best mate, is the one who is introducing me into the Inamorata world. He began using their services right after his divorce and has continued to be a regular client. There is a rigorous selection process for clients and he’s my foot in the door.
“The redhead in the black dress is hot.”
“Aye, she is.” But I don’t want a redhead. I’m afraid that she would remind me of Mina.
“You don’t sound enthused. What do you think of the blonde in the green dress?”
That would also be a no. “I think that her plastic surgeon did her a disservice with those implants.”
“Really? I think that her diddies look great.”
He would. Brady is a diddies man. Always has been.
“I like a more natural look.” Ones that almost fit inside my hands. And won’t smother me to death.
A lovely brunette approaches our table. White blouse. Black pants. Obviously, a server for the event and not one of the Inamorata women. “Good evening, gentlemen. May I bring you something to drink?”
“I’ll have a Tomatin,” Brady says.
“Same for me.”
“Coming right up.”
Brady watches the server’s arse as she walks away. “Tell me what kind of lass that you’re looking for and maybe I can help you find her.”
“I don’t have any particular physical characteristics in mind. I just want to look at her and… feel something.”
“Feel what? A stauner?” Brady can be such a dobber sometimes.
“I can get a hard-on by myself. I’m talking about a connection. I want to be drawn to her.”
“Answer this for me, Max. Do you want to hold her hand or fuck her?”
“I’d like to do both actually.”
Brady twists in his chair. “There are two kinds of Inamorata women—those who fuck and those who don’t. Look around. Some of the women have a pink rosebud pinned to their left shoulder. It’s a symbol meaning that they are willing to fuck and don’t mind being asked to do so. No pink rosebud, no pussy.”
I hadn’t considered that possibility. I guess that I thought they’d all be willing to have sex for money.
“You might want to keep an eye out for a rosebud while you’re looking for this lass that you want to connect with. Because your cock won’t be making any kind of connection with her if she’s not wearing a rosebud.”
I believe that my choices were just narrowed down significantly; many of these women are missing a rosebud.
“Two Tomatins,” the server says as she places our drinks on the table. “Can I bring you anything else?”
“That’s all for now. Thank you.”
Brady holds up his glass. “Here’s to you finally getting out again. And getting shagged.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
We toss back our whiskies and I look around, searching for that special woman who catches my eye. I quickly realize that I’ll never find what I’m looking for by sitting in the dark corner all night. “Come on, let’s do this.”
Brady and I talk to many women over the next two hours and I become discouraged. This gala is my only chance at finding a woman who will be agreeable to my terms, but no one stands out as a contender.
With each passing minute, tonight’s search is looking more and more like a failure. What a fucking disappointment. I was so sure that I was going to find what I was looking for.