Verena Vincent
Kayla's Cowboy Fantasy
Chapter One
“So, what you’re telling me is that I can order a man, just like a pizza?” Kayla Foreman asked with a small frown, raising one slim auburn eyebrow doubtfully at the woman across from her. Usually this particular look caused panic among her subordinates, but it wasn’t having the desired effect today. The current recipient of her Dragon Lady Stare seemed strangely oblivious to her intimidation tactics.
Kayla couldn’t actually remember the last time she’d been unable to fluster an opponent. She was a firm believer in keeping the upper hand, no matter what. Today, however, she was feeling more like the mouse than the cat for a change. A slither of discomfort slid through her at the thought of giving up even an inch of power to anyone else. Especially this woman who sold sex for a living.
Trying to appear casual and detached, Kayla crossed her long, silk-clad legs and picked imaginary lint off her tweed skirt as she waited for a response.
“Not at all,” said the elegant woman sitting behind the large, marble-topped desk. She smiled indulgently at Kayla, and leaned back in her chair for a moment before resuming her rigid upright position. “A pizza has a limited amount of options, and isn’t guaranteed to satisfy you. Our product, however, is only limited by your imagination. And if we somehow fail to live up to your expectations, we will gladly refund your money.”
Kayla gestured around her at the tastefully opulent office space owned by Delta of Venus Inc. “Miss Bright. I’ve been running my own multi-national sales department for the past six years. Surely you don’t expect me to believe that you can make this kind of profit in this economy without some kind of stipulation to prevent you clients from demanding a refund. Whether they’re satisfied with your product, or not?”
“I can honestly say that in the eight years this branch has been in operation, we’ve only been asked to issue one refund. And that was due to an ethical dilemma, rather than client dissatisfaction.” Miss Bright frowned at the memory, as if still offended by their imperfect record.
“Only one? That’s very impressive. What was the dilemma exactly?” Kayla asked, expecting her to decline to answer, or change the subject. She was quite shocked when Miss Bright returned her enquiring gaze directly and answered her with refreshing candor.
“The client and the Scene Facilitator fell in love. And technically it was not the client who asked for the refund, but the gentleman. He felt it was wrong to take her money once he became personally involved with her, so we respected his wishes and issued a refund.” She shrugged her shoulders and smoothed one hand over her already flawless platinum chignon.
“You call your hustlers ‘Scene Facilitators?’” Kayla asked with a smile, making air quotes with her fingers at the expression. “Talk about grandiose language. Be honest. Your stable of studs can’t be that much better than what you would find in an upscale brothel. Only the gender of your clientele is different.”
Instead of appearing offended, Miss Bright seemed amused. She gave a tinkling little laugh and shook her head in disbelief. “Our hustlers? How delightful. Our SFs are a far cry from the street prostitutes you envision. Most of our gentlemen have prominent careers; absolutely none of them are on drugs. And they do this because they want to, not because they have to.”
“They want to have sex with strange women for money?” Kayla asked doubtfully.
Miss Bright nodded. “Why wouldn’t they? How many people can say they fulfill fantasies for a living? It’s a dream job for many men. In fact, if you asked any random fellow on the street, I’m positive he would gladly join our ‘stable of studs’ as you so eloquently put it.”
Kayla crossed her arms and frowned. “But they have no choice. If a flatulent grandma with a goiter bigger than my head hires them, they still have to perform, don’t they? Or do you have Viagra on hand at all times to help out when your boys can’t get lead in their pencils?”
Miss Bright’s smile widened at Kayla’s expression but she didn’t lose her professional demeanour. “Erectile enhancements are not typically used by our SFs, unless specifically requested by a client. Some women require a man with a great deal of stamina to achieve their release. But artificial means are rarely necessary.”
Kayla’s eyes widened in disbelief. “They never go soft?” She nearly shouted. “Is this what you’re telling me? No matter what the situation or how weird the request? How is this possible when half the guys out there either can’t get it up, or can’t keep it up?”
“Half? Really? How interesting. And sad. No wonder our service is so popular. But as I said earlier, erectile dysfunction would certainly be grounds for a refund considering our objective is sexual fantasy fulfillment. And yet it’s never been an issue. But this may be related to our screening process. Not only are all our SFs given thorough physical exams by our licensed medical staff to ensure they are free of disease and in prime physical health. They’re also subjected to comprehensive psych evaluations to ensure that they have the proper attitude towards our clients and their roles.”
“And what is the proper attitude exactly?”
“Why, it’s very simple. They must adore and respect women. And feel honored to be providing this very specialized service.”
“So, they really enjoy doing this?” Was it possible? Kayla’s career required her to be tough and occasionally even ruthless, but she prided herself on being fair. Exploiting another person to meet her needs didn’t fit in with the ethical standards she required of herself and those around her. She had some real reservations regarding the idea of paying for sex. However, if Miss Bright was correct, then maybe some of the shame and guilt could be alleviated and she could actually go ahead with this rather unconventional method of fulfilling her fantasy. She hadn’t been having much luck with traditional methods, so maybe her only alternative was to call in a professional.
“Of course. In fact, one of our gentlemen once told me that doing this for a living made it difficult to settle for regular sex.”
Kayla snorted in disbelief. “Really?”
“Really. The complexity and detail required to fulfill a client’s fantasy made him re-think his entire approach to pleasuring a woman. It’s a stereotype, but it also happens to be true that a man’s fantasy life often extends to the physical attributes of his partner or partners, and maybe the sexual position they assume. If he’s feeling particularly inspired, maybe wardrobe, such as lingerie might play a part. But a woman needs a setting, a story, and some kind of connection to feel safe and aroused. Our SFs provide those things.”
“Interesting. So this gigolo, he felt he was serving a higher purpose by screwing these women for money?”
Miss Bright ignored her sarcastic tone. “In a way. Does this make you feel better about proceeding with your registration?” She leaned forward and pulled a red folder towards her. Opening it she scanned the documents within for a moment and then looked expectantly up at Kayla over her stylish rimless glasses.
Kayla shrugged her shoulders and waved a hand at the folder. “I don’t know. This all seems very strange. Cold, somehow. Choosing a sex partner should be more passionate and personal than making out a grocery list, shouldn’t it?”
“But you aren’t choosing a sex partner, Miss Foreman. You’re selecting a living sex object. Chosen based on your preferences and 100 % willing to participate in a scenario designed by you for your ultimate sexual experience. And that is quite different from selecting a cantaloupe at the market or a sex partner. That term implies that you are on equal footing in deciding how your scene will be played out. In this situation, however, you are all powerful and make all the choices. They are merely enthusiastic props in your fantasy.”
“Wow, talk about dehumanizing. If they’re just sex objects, then why don’t I save myself the ten grand and just buy some batteries for my vibrator instead?” Kayla knew she was being outrageous, but she really wanted to shake this woman’s icy calm.
To her credit, Miss Bright didn’t flinch. “Only you can answer that question. Obviously, your personal satisfaction device isn’t providing you with what you need. I’m fairly certain we can come up with a situation that can.”
