this over with. Say it. The worse thing that can happen is I'll be sent back to my pimp empty-handed. Just say it.
"Clarrisa."
That's good. Sound confident, keep your face neutral, don't give that bitch any more ammunition.
"Justin, my manager, told me you gave him $1000 to send me out here. I doubt it was to have tea and make small talk. Just what is it you want from me? If it's sex, I have to tell you, I don't do anything weird or kinky."
Clarrisa looked at Shasta as if she had finally noticed her for the first time. A taut smile appeared on her face, perhaps a product of a grudging respect.
She set her fork down and pushed her plates away from her. Folding her arms across the table top she leaned forward. "Very well, dear. You want all the cards on the table, so to speak. I don't mind; in fact, I've been waiting to see if you had the backbone to stand up to me. You are the eighth girl I've interviewed, and you are the first to show both intelligence and spirit. You see, I have need of both."
That made her cautious. "For what?" Anxiety replaced her anger as it evaporated.
"You guessed correctly, I want sex, but not for myself. And you won't have to do anything you are uncomfortable with. All I want you to do is seduce my son."
Shasta relaxed as soon as she heard that. That didn't sound too bad; in fact, she had heard of that kind of thing being done, though she had assumed it was just an urban folk tale. And yet something didn't feel right. She couldn't be sure if her suspicion was real or simply part of her anxiety, but she had to make certain before she went through with her request.
"I'm sorry, but I don't know about this. It all sounds rather strange to me."
For a brief moment it looked as if a worried expression flickered across Clarrisa's face, after which it resumed its usual casual contemptuousness. "Oh? In what way, my dear?"
"Well, for instance, why are you setting this up? Why wouldn't he simply hire me himself?"
Clarrisa chuckled, as if she humored a small child, but Shasta didn't buy it, not after what she saw a moment before. "I'm afraid my son would never have thought of this himself, and besides I want to surprise him."
"Why, is it his birthday or something?"
"No, I just like to do nice things for him on occasion."
Shasta shook her head in confusion. "This doesn't make any sense. Why wouldn't he think of this himself? Why someone like me, and not some high-priced fancy escort? And why are you doing this for him? Why would you care?"
Clarrisa's smile turned into a thin, hard line. "Why would you care what my reasons are, as long as you are getting paid?"
"But you already paid Justin for my time."
Clarrisa managed to look hurt, as if her honor had been insulted. "Of course you will be adequately compensated. I had planned that all along. I will give you another $1000, which you will give to Justin as your fee. How much of that would you receive?"
"I don't know; maybe a hundred, maybe less. That's more than I would make in one night, but I would hardly call it adequate."
"I have also deposited $250,000 in a bank account under a false name. I will give you the account number and the name of the bank after you complete your task. With that money you could leave Justin, set yourself up as an independent in, say, Vail, or wherever else you like. Is that better?"
Shasta couldn't speak; better was an understatement. A new life, away from Justin, away from the streets, where she could work as often (or as little) as she pleased, accept only those clients she liked, charge as much as she could take, and keep it all. That seemed like paradise to a doxy of her status. The only thing better would be to catch a young, handsome multimillionaire like Julia Roberts did in Pretty Woman.
She realized her expression must have displayed just how much it really did appeal to her when Clarrisa chuckled with self-amused triumph. "I see that it is. Well then, if you accept my offer, I would like to get started right away. My son is taking a nap upstairs and I want you to be there when he wakes up."
Those words snapped Shasta back to reality. "Just hold it a minute. You still haven't explained what's going on. All that money won't do me any good if you son's idea of kicks is roasting me on a spit."
Clarrisa looked honestly shocked, but then she let loose a quick, barking laugh before getting control of herself. "Whatever gave you that idea?"
"It wouldn't be the first time some society bitch provided her psychopathic son with victims to keep anyone from finding out."
Clarrisa frowned deeply and narrowed her eyes, but her face also went pale. Shasta figured she had just hit pretty close to the mark, but that realization frightened her.
However, Clarrisa shrugged and looked resigned. "Very well. I suppose you will need to know anyway, to do your job properly. I hesitated only because it is personally embarrassing, and frankly I didn't want to reveal anything you could later use against me. But...no matter. It's all very simple. You see, my son is a recluse. In fact, he hasn't been out of this house his entire life. As such, he has never had the opportunity to, shall we say, gain experience."
"Never?!"
Clarrisa shook her head. "I'm afraid not. He was always a studious boy."
The whole situation had become very strange. "But what does that have to do with me?" She had a suspicion what the answer would be.
Instead, Clarrisa fooled her. "To understand that, I must tell you about Peter's father--Peter's my son, by the way."
Peter MacCandels. That name sounded vaguely familiar, but Shasta lost her train of thought as Clarrisa continued.
"You see, his father and I were never married. We were not even what you would call friendly. We were lovers merely as a matter of convenience: we both had something the other wanted. He had wealth, power, and influence, and I had a womb to provide him with an heir. And I was tired of waiting on tables in truck stops. As such, when one of his associates offered me a million dollars to be impregnated, I agreed.
"Peter's...conception is the gentlest word I can think of...was not pleasant. It took several tries before I became pregnant, and his father was unnecessarily brutal. Nonetheless, afterwards he had no further use for me. He paid the million, plus an extra amount to cover the hospital expenses, and charged me with raising Peter to manhood. He provided tutors while I used my fee to become financially independent, but when Peter had learned everything his father required of him, it was left to me to prepare him to receive his birthright.
"All his father ever cared about was that Peter satisfy him that he could effectively take over and manage his affairs, but to me Peter was--is--my whole life. Everything I have done has been for his benefit, to try to make him into something his father would be proud of. Maybe I made a mistake somewhere along the line, but Peter in fact turned into a great disappointment to his father. He ended up a dreamer, interested only in art, literature, and study, which was not at all what his father wanted. I believe that Peter simply received the wrong combination of genetic traits from the two of us, but his father blames me. He has made it very plain that if, by his twenty-first birthday, Peter has not changed or redeemed himself, I will suffer for it. I am not concerned for myself, though I should be. He is very powerful, and could make my life a horror if he truly wanted to. It's Peter I'm worried about, because his father would surely repudiate him if he cannot please him. And what would become of him if I am not able to protect him I cannot bear to think about."
Throughout, Clarrisa had been careful to maintain her mask of casual superiority, but Shasta noticed that as she talked her voice steadily became quieter and more somber, as her true feelings showed themselves. Shasta understood that she loved her son deeply and that she would do whatever she felt necessary to keep him secure.
Still: "I'm very sorry for you and Peter, but I still don't understand how any of this involves me."
Perhaps it was because Shasta had expressed sympathy for her problem, but when Clarrisa continued her voice had become firmer and lighter. "As I said, Peter can redeem himself, but to do so h
e must provide an heir of his own. The problem has been Peter's lack of experience. Oh, he likes girls well enough, fascinated by them in fact. But he hasn't shown the slightest interest in making love to any of the women I have presented to him. That's why I'm hoping you will be able to, shall we say, spark his interest."
Shasta got a cold feeling in the pit of her abdomen. "I see. And you want me to get him to impregnate me."
Clarrisa burst out laughing, so hard it took her a few moments to catch her breath. "Good heavens, my dear! No, no, I have a much more suitable girl in mind for that."
That's certainly a relief. "But if you don't want me to become pregnant, then why do you want me to seduce him?"
"My dear, haven't you been listening? My son cannot make any woman pregnant because he doesn't know how. I need you to be a surrogate. I want you to show him how it's done, to initiate him in the pleasures of the flesh."
"So to speak."
"Quite so. Will you do it?"
She noticed a pleading quality to her eyes that no amount of self-control could hide, but it might have been purposeful. The expression reminded her of a basset hound she had when she was a little girl. Actually, Clarrisa need not have used the big, sad, soulful eyes routine, because Shasta suddenly found the whole idea very attractive. She always wondered what it would be like to be in total control, giving instructions instead of receiving them. And she found the