Cinder-Un-Rella [Companionship Inc., Book I] Read online

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  Amber Quill Press

  www.amberquill.com

  Copyright ©2003 by Debi McMartin COPYRIGHTNOTICE Vickie Wakely

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  Companionship Inc., Book I:

  CINDER-UN-RELLA

  by

  VELVET VEERS

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  ISBN 1-59279-081-X

  Amber Quill Press, LLC

  www.amberquill.com

  Also By Velvet Veers

  ~Companionship Inc.~

  Book I: Cinder-un-rella

  Book II: Hearts Afire

  Book III: Double-Dare Claire

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  ~Virtual Reality Inc.~

  Book I: Project Temptation

  Book II: Stake Out

  Book III: Virtual Hearts Club

  DEDICATION

  To my greatest loves—Glen, Pamela, Melissa and Amanda—my wonderful family; and to the Gentle Persuaders, the greatest critique group—Anne, Helen, Linda and Pat. I couldn't have finished this story without ALL of your loving support.

  CHAPTER 1

  Victoria Taylor sat on the tattered cot as she pored over the employment section of the Dallas Morning News. Not an ad circled on the whole page even though she'd been at it for thirty minutes. Discouraged and dejected, she leaned back against the two flat pillows covered with the 300-count sateen pillowcases, one of the few items salvaged from the shipwreck of her life.

  Just six months ago Victoria had gone from living in a Spanish-style mansion in the Highland Park area of Dallas to the homeless shelter for women where she existed now. She'd gone from sleeping in an original Queen Ann bed with velvet curtains hanging from the bedposts to a urine-stained cot lined up against the wall at the Center of Light.

  Victoria laughed cynically—she could call herself Cinder-un-rella, from riches to rags, with a husband who had turned into a pumpkin behind bars. Oh well, she'd always been one to do everything backwards, the rebel with a cause.

  The problem now, she thought, shaking the paper out, is she had only held one real job in her life. Right after high school, she worked as a hostess at III Forks, an upscale restaurant off the Tollway. She had met her husband, her senior by thirty years, there and Victoria hadn't worked a day since.

  At least she had managed to save her designer suits from the mess of her marriage to wear to interviews. They were all folded neatly and stacked in the suitcases and boxes lining the wall beside her bed. Several of her “cot mates” had shuffled by with their shopping carts full of bric-a-brac they'd found during the course of the day, so they were naturally curious about her collection. Certainly they would be wondering what a lady at the Center for Light would be doing with designer clothes and evening gowns.

  The residents unnerved her with their stares. No doubt many were inebriated or on drugs, and others probably looked transfixed just because she seemed such an anomaly, a fish out of water. She kept assuring them she would not be there for long, just passing through. Worried about leaving her boxes in the open when she went out, the director guaranteed Victoria's personal belongings would be fine, even when she left the center, taking the job unto herself to see to their safekeeping.

  The United States Treasury Department seized everything after her husband had been arrested and sent to the Federal Penitentiary. The house, the cars, their bank accounts and savings, all to apply toward the debt he owed. Thomas Martin Taylor, CEO of Rolf Enterprises, a finance company with offices all over the world, had been cooking the books—maneuvering fancy accounting tricks to make the company's deficits appear as assets. Uncle Sam hadn't liked it one bit and clamped down hard on the perpetrators. Victoria couldn't blame them. But she had been an innocent bystander and now was homeless as a result. Why should she be punished for her husband's sins?

  With Thomas sitting in jail, the divorce had been finalized. The only thing she'd salvaged from the wreckage was her jewelry and clothes. The jewelry went first to aid in her survival the first six months and to pay her lawyer fees. She had no family and her so-called friends turned their backs on her the minute her husband had been arrested. The fact she was an innocent victim and knew nothing of her husband's business dealings meant nothing. She no longer belonged in their milieu.

  Somewhere deep in her soul she knew this experience would liberate her. Victoria just wished she knew how as she had never been fond of mysteries or surprises. They scared her. She wanted her life nice and neat, orderly and predictable. Right now her motivation to find employment was to get out of the putrid hellhole she now called home.

  But being here was a chance to catch a glimpse of the other side of human reality—a side that she'd been cushioned from all her life. This was her chance to see the grit, to see how these people in raw circumstances negotiated their lives, met their needs. What drove them into homelessness? My God, she never dreamed she'd ever be one of them. Was everyone in this country two paychecks from homelessness? If so, maybe something needed to change.

  Okay, back to the drawing board. Leaning back over the newspaper she noticed a waitress job. No not that again. After the divorce she'd tried working at Denney's as a waitress but Victoria seemed to have a knack for messing up. Spilling ice water on a woman's head her first day on the job didn't set well with the manager, but the clincher had been when she dumped the food in an insolent customer's lap to teach him a lesson. That was the last day of her illustrious career at Denney's.

  And then there was the clothing store where she refused to sell a customer a dress that made her look like a Halloween pumpkin. The customer complained to management and Victoria was once again history. The corporate philosophy that the customer was always right and never miss an opportunity to make a sale severely clashed with Victoria's philosophy of honesty.

  Victoria sighed and resumed her search. When she finally scanned to the bottom of the newspaper page, a bold typed ad seemed to jump off the page:

  COMPANIONSHIP, INC. ESCORT SERVICE NOW HIRING

  BEAUTIFUL, INTELLIGENT FEMALES AGE 21-31

  TOP PAY AND BENEFITS

  Now this is something I can do! After all, she'd had ten years experience as the trophy wife, hanging on her husband's arm, an ornament for his over inflated blimp-sized ego, a master hostess with all the right words to pluck out of the air, a smile and charm for every occasion. Yes, this job was one she had years of experience for.

  Victoria sat straighter, excited over the fact she might just have found her ticket out of this place—out of the shelter and into a life of her own.

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  Hours later, Victoria walked to the door of Companionship, Inc. decked in her finest white Armani suit with a low cut silk chamois beneath the tailored jacket and her Nina Ricci heels, which were to die for. She double checked her appearance in the mirrored hall and felt good about the image staring back at her.

  Taking a deep breath, she opened the door leading to a plush reception area. She walked across a luxurious plum carpet and checked out the expensive contemporary glass and wood furniture. Very stylish. The room smelled of money. This was a first class operation all the way.

  The receptionist, an olive skin exotic beauty with short blue-black hair, smiled and handed Victoria a five-page application form to fill out, including consent forms t
o take the required blood work and medical tests. Completing them quickly, she settled back to wait her turn for the formal interview.

  Victoria did not have to wait long. Within five minutes, a tall, very physically fit middle-aged man walked to her and extended his hand.

  "Victoria Taylor, I presume, I'm Stephen Sawyer, owner and CEO of Companionship, Inc."

  "Nice to meet you, Mr. Sawyer. Your office is very lovely.” Victoria said, impressed with his firm and direct manner.

  "Welcome. Please be seated."

  Victoria admired the artfully decorated room. The sculptures and contemporary oil paintings on the wall must have cost a fortune. The furniture had the straight-back sleekness of new age, not the comfortable over-stuffed chairs she preferred. The room, though beautiful, had left her cold.

  "I love the modern décor."

  He sat behind a glass and chrome desk, not a stack of papers to be seen, everything professionally arranged and in perfect order. Victoria glanced at his left hand. No ring. She wondered about his life. What had prompted this person to open this type of business? He exuded wealth and class—looked like a national banking CEO rather than the head of an escort service.

  Victoria noticed his blatant perusal of her legs. She tugged at the mini-skirt, suddenly self-conscious at its shortness. It always rode up her thighs when she sat. Perhaps she should have chosen a more conservative outfit. Oh, well—this was an escort service interview. What else would she have thought to wear? After all, her legs were her best physical assets, so why not use them to her advantage? Daily runs, kick boxing and long hikes had kept them slim and shapely. If you've got it, flaunt it, she thought.

  Mr. Sawyer cleared his throat. “I'm sure you must have a million questions about Companionship, Inc. I'll give you my spiel first, which will hopefully answer most of them. Then I'll let you have the floor."

  "Sounds fair,” Victoria replied.

  "First of all, I'd like to tell you what Companionship Inc. is not about. It is not a front for prostitution and it is not a ‘dating’ service. It is what it implies—an escort service. I created the company because of the need I saw in the business world, particularly for top executives to be able to hire an escort for a function they considered vital to their business. Men operate much more effectively and competently in situations where they have the companionship of an appropriate female. Many men who devote the majority of their waking hours to business pursuits do not have the time, energy or inclination to depend on their own devices to find companionship. So many times it ends up being a crapshoot and they are left empty handed, while others simply do not want the romantic entanglement to distract them from their business goals. I know this because I've been there. Our rules are: No sex between customer and client, and no dating the client outside of your contract with them. Some of your clients are married, some are not, which is irrelevant. Your relationship with your clients is to be strictly professional."

  Victoria nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. “I don't see any problems."

  This was going to be a cinch. Most of the men would no doubt be elderly, probably widowed. She would show them a good time, have stimulating conversation, but with no strings attached. These men would certainly be tame, and having no interest in pawing at her or bedding her. And should they, she'd quickly put a clamp on it.

  Mr. Sawyer continued. “The pay is exemplary. You will receive five hundred dollars per job. You will receive health and retirement benefits. You must carry a beeper with you, provided by the company, at all times for your safety. We have several security guards should you come into a situation that escalates beyond your control; just press the alarm button on your beeper. Help would arrive very quickly. We take care of our women. However, never in the history of Companionship, Inc. have we ever had an incident. That is part of why we do extensive medical and criminal background checks—to prevent situations that could place our employees in peril. And that's about it for my spiel. Any questions?"

  "What about attire for each job. Will I know what I will be required to wear?"

  "You will be contacted by a cell phone, which we provide, another one of your job perks. There will be a computerized voice explaining the particulars of the job, your client's name, and the time and location of your meeting. Under no circumstances will the client be allowed to come to your house to pick you up or take you to a hotel room or his home. You will enter your given PIN number into the phone after the job description to confirm you have received the information and accepted the job. You can call the system back at any time and enter your PIN to review a job description. As far as your attire goes, dress appropriately for each job. What you have on now would work for daytime hours."

  Victoria noticed his lingering gaze on her exposed cleavage. Excitement stirred through her at the thought of his attraction. Many men had hit on her while she had been married to Thomas, but never did she entertain the idea of cheating on him. Besides, sexual power frightened her, overwhelmed her. Thomas had been safe because she never felt that type of sexual prowess with him. But sitting here with Mr. Sawyer, and the sexual stirrings he had conjured up within her, made her feel vulnerable, exposed.

  "This sounds perfect. I'm ready to start if you hire me."

  "Consider yourself hired, Victoria Taylor. Congratulations and welcome to Companionship, Inc. May you find professional fulfillment with our company. See my secretary on your way out and she will see that you are set up with the necessary medical screens for employment here. Oh, and I forgot to tell you, each client will greet you with a long stem rose. It's a nice gesture and helps you identify your date."

  Victoria shook Mr. Sawyer's hand and he walked her to door. Wow, this was going to be the beginning of a great adventure. It was about time things started going her way! She could do this and do a smashing job of it. All of her clients would come back begging for her and she would be out of the shelter in no time.

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  Victoria walked into the Union Station in downtown Dallas, and nervously waited in the front lobby as her client had instructed. She had chosen a simple but elegant tea length, black satin and lace cocktail dress. The satin stopped just above her nipples, teasing the viewer, with a strip of lace barely covering her cleavage. The back dipped low and the zipper cinched the dress at her waist, accentuating her curves.

  Her first client, a Mr. Taft Houston, should be waiting for her. She felt her hands begin to sweat and her heartbeat increased as she glanced around the lobby, looking for the telltale rose. There was really nothing to be worried about, she thought, as she looked for an elderly, gray or balding man clutching the flower in his time worn hands. She did a double take as her gaze fell upon a man standing in the corner of the room, hands folded demurely in front of him—a gorgeous man who looked like he had just stepped off the cover of GQ magazine, a man with a red flower in his hand.

  "No,” Victoria gasped, her heart slamming against her ribs. “There must be some mistake. That can't be Taft Houston. He's not old!"

  Victoria had the sudden urge to flee. But she had already made eye contact with Mr. GQ. He smiled and walked over to her. Victoria wiped her clammy hands on her dress. The closer he got, the better looking he became. She was dead meat.

  "Victoria Taylor?” the man asked, extending his hand. Victoria continued to stare, speechless. This man was too perfect to be real. Dazzling green eyes that could drown a woman, a smile that stretched across high, angular cheekbones, a smile that revealed a splendid row of ivory and accented a deep dimple. Why in the world would this one need an escort service? Any woman in her right mind would fall over herself to accompany him.

  "Uh ... yes,” she stumbled. “Yes, I'm Victoria. But there must be some mistake ... I wasn't expecting—"

  "I'm Taft Houston. No mistake. Would you like to have a drink before we attend the banquet? Get to know each other a bit?"

  "Yes, of course.” Victoria fought to recover from her shock, should she become a blundering idiot.
/>   "There's a quaint little bar over here. Nice, quiet, and away from heavy traffic. I thought we could enjoy a glass of wine."

  "Sure,” said Victoria, not recognizing her suddenly husky voice.

  They slid into a private booth. Taft slipped in next to her, secluded on three sides by screens portraying railroad motifs. The waitress walked up to retrieve their orders.

  "Merlot for both of us,” said Taft, his eyes never leaving Victoria's face. Suddenly she felt naked—not just her body, but her whole being. Maybe this escort job was not such a good idea after all. She'd really rather be back at the shelter than have to deal with the raw, unfamiliar sensations coursing through her.

  The booth was cozy and Taft's knee pressed against hers. A spidery web of sexual current ran up her leg and caused every cell in her body to tingle. He moved closer, placing his arm across the back of the booth. Victoria inhaled his musky scent of Hugo Boss cologne, which had always been her favorite. She shook her head. How stupid of her to think she had been prepared. She had no clue how to act, what to say, or what to do. She froze, rooted to her seat. Her best bet lay in the wine and covering her jitters with it. She allowed the warm liquid to seep through her and soothe the now-raw nerve endings. No man had ever affected her in such a base manner. Even her womb contracted at the mere sight of him.

  Taft smiled, his face just inches from hers. “Are you okay, Victoria? You seem rather quiet."

  "Oh, yes ... yes,” she replied, stumbling over her words. “I guess I just expected someone a bit older."

  "Disappointed?” Taft grinned.

  "Oh, no, not at all. I just don't quite know how to act."

  He squeezed her hand in reassurance. “You don't have to act. Just be you, sweetheart. That's the main reason I hired you. You don't have to put on a dog and pony show to make an impression on me. You just have to be my companion for the evening. That way things don't get complicated. I stopped wasting my time on women who ‘act’ a long time ago. They all have an agenda and it all seems to come down to ‘trapping’ a rich man. It just made me real tired and quite frankly, disgusted. My solutions? Companionship, Inc. and now you! Perfect."