Page 74 of Revelation

“So let’s talk logistics. In your application, you requested fulfillment of two different fantasies. We are happy to inform you that, with just a few minor tweaks to your requests, PGWH is willing (and quite excited) to deliver both to you, on two separate nights of her stay in Los Angeles (which means, yes, this high-end call girl’s gonna cost you a grand total oftwomillion bucks). So let’s talk about those minor tweaks:

“Regarding your first scenario, PGWH agrees to be part of the two-woman scenario you’ve requested, but she’s not game for both women to be naked when you first arrive to the hotel room. She might need a little coaxing to get the show on the road, so to speak, but she’s confident a little alcohol and the sight of your gorgeous, turned-on face will be all that’s necessary to give her a little nudge in the right direction. In the end, your fantasies are all that matter—she very much wants to deliver them to you.

“Also regarding your two-woman scenario, as previously agreed, you may touch yourself and PGWH, but you absolutely may not touch the ‘other’ woman.Breach of this rule will be deemed unforgivable by PGWH and will result in her leaving the rendezvous immediately. (If this amounts to ‘sexual extortion’ we’re very sorry-not-sorry. It’s just super-duper important to PGWH that you honor this request and never make PGWH feel like a third wheel. She wishes to be your window, not your window dressing. This is non-negotiable. Have we mentioned one of her code names is The Jealous Bitch?)

“If the foregoing revisions to the first scenario are agreeable toyou, then our next step is to identify the ‘window dressing’ who’ll be joining you and PGWH. Since you’ve graciously offered that PGWH may select whomever she chooses, we’re happy to inform you of PGWH’s selection: supermodel Bridgette Schmidt.”

I take my hands off my keyboard and stare at the screen for a long moment.

Up ’til now, this email to Josh has poured out of me in a torrent of excitement—but now, my fingers have paused without my brain telling them to do it.

Am I really up for this? It’s pretty kinky. Am I really gonna like kinky as much as I think I will—or am I merely turned on by theideaof kinky? And, besides that, when Josh and I first started “negotiating” this particular adventure, I made a big ol’ stink that the woman we selected couldn’t be someone either of us knows. But now that I’ve had a chance to think this through, I think Bridgette the Supermodel is the ideal candidate for the job.

First off, she’s gorgeous. And since I’m the one who’s gonna be making out with her, that’s not a small point. Second, Bridgette is bisexual, at least according to Josh, which means the odds are good this won’t be her first time making out with a girl—and, hopefully, she’ll be more enthusiastic about fooling around with me than my straight friend in college (because that was kind of lame in retrospect). Third—and this is a biggie—Bridgette’s a huge celebrity, which means she’s not gonna take secret photos and sell them to TMZ.

All these reasons are pretty persuasive to me—and yet there’s an even bigger reason to select Bridgette as my co-star in this particular mini-porno: Josh said Bridgette’s got “battery acid in her heart.”

Well, winner, winner, chicken dinner. Give that girl a salami. Because if I’m gonna voluntarily bring a beautiful, naked, blonde woman into the bedroom with a man I want for my very own—a man I’ve been fantasizing about taking home to meet my family—a man who makes my claws come out and jealousy rise up from my darkest bowels when I eventhinkabout him with another woman—then I’m sure as hell gonna make double-damn-sure that woman’s not gonna have a snowball’s chance in hell of stealing my man out from under me.

I take a long, deep breath and close my eyes.

Oh my, I seem to be feeling a tad bit psychotic right now.

I take a deep breath and shake it off.

And there’s another reason to select Bridgette too—a very, very good reason that might be a tad bit self-sabotaging (but, oh well, that simply can’t be helped): I want to see if Josh is full of shit or not. He says I’m more beautiful than Bridgette Effing Schmidt, one of the world’s most beautiful women? Well, let’s see if Josh is able to walk the walk of that particular smooth-talk. Will he be able to keep his hands off Bridgette when push comes to shove? Or will he find her jaw-dropping physical beauty too powerful to resist, no matter how much he feels for me?

Obviously, I might be making a huge mistake by doing this—setting myself up for epic heartbreak. Actually, come to think of it, this might be the stupidest idea I’ve ever had in my entire life, possibly even dumber than the idea of surprising Garrett at his apartment wearing nothing but a trench coat. But, hey, I’ve got to look at the big picture here: if Josh is ultimately gonna shatter my heart, I’d rather know it now than when my heart is totally on the line.

I place my hands on my keyboard again and continue typing:

“After explaining the firm no-touch rule to Bridgette, please invite her to join us during one of the nights of PGWH’s stay in Los Angeles (whichever night she can make it—we’ll work around her schedule).

“And now regarding the second scenario detailed in your application, which we’ll call ‘Saving the Girl.’ Do you think it’d be possible to combine this fantasy of yours with one of PGWH’s biggest fantasies, already detailed at length for you, in which she’s held captive by a dangerous man? Just let us know. During this trip, fulfillment ofyourfantasies is paramount, so if simultaneously fulfilling PGWH’s fantasy would somehow lessen your pleasure, we’ll be very happy to fulfill PGWH’s fantasy a different time.

“Well, that’s about it. We look forward to serving you, Mr. Faraday. Why? Because we here at The KUM Club sure do love a good sick fuck!”

My heart stops. Oh my God, I absolutely cannot phrase that last sentence that way. Jesus God, am I mad? Quickly, I delete the last sentence and rephrase it:

“Why? Because we here at The KUM Club sure do enjoy ourselves a good sick fuck!”

Damn. That was a close call. I’m careening out of control here. Jeez. I can’t drop the ‘L’ word like that, even as a snarky figure of speech.

“Exclusively yours,” I continue writing, “The KUM Club.

“P.S. PGWH wishes to thank you profusely for your latest extremely generous gift (in a long line of generous gifts)—even though it will surely prevent PGWH from ever leaving her house again (unless it’s to see you, of course). Whenever PGWH uses your gift, rest assured she’ll imagine she’s getting splendidly fucked by you. Certainly, with every orgasm (and there will surely be many), she’ll moan your name.”

My fingers leave my keyboard. I stare at the screen, my skin electrified, my crotch burning, my heart aching. Try as I might, I simply can’t keep myself from falling head-over-heels for this man. The only question now is whether he wants me the way I want him. I know Josh wants me sexually, but does he want the rest of me, too? I’m simultaneously excited and nervous to find out.

I read my email once through, take a deep breath, and press send.

20

JOSH

Islam my laptop shut.

Holy fuck.

---