Chapter 2: Proposal and a Start

My mouth dropped open.

Taylor, my really sharp assistant, had just asked me to spend Thanksgiving weekend with her – basically four complete days, and possibly the Wednesday night before all that ... as her boyfriend.

I stammered out in a surprised and squeaky voice, “Really? You’re serious? Do you know what you’re asking?”

She nodded rapidly. “I’m also asking you to postpone sex for a long weekend. I don’t want sex to be a primary activity, but there’ll be...”

“Wait! What?” Stopping sex was a serious consideration.

Taylor explained, “My family lives outside Rochester, New York – a seven or eight-hour drive that way.” She pointed west. “I’ve told them an untruth, several in fact, that I have a ‘somewhat’ serious boyfriend.” She used both hands to put quotes around the word ‘somewhat’. I had no idea what that meant.

She continued, “I’ve never had a boyfriend. Well, I’ve had friends that were boys – or men, but never in a romantic way. They’ve been on my case for years – in college and since, and it finally reached a fevered pitch, so I lied to them starting about two years ago. I didn’t want them to think less of me, so after I moved to Boston two years ago and got a job here, I built up this story about a great and a caring boyfriend.

“Oh, and I’ll pay for everything – flights, meals, and any expense that you incur, plus this is so important to me that I will pay you $2,000 – all that I can afford. I just need you to pretend that we’re an item for the long weekend. I want it to look real, too. I would like us to fly out to Rochester on Wednesday evening and return on Sunday afternoon, and yes, I know, those are the busiest travel days of the year, but I have a girlfriend that works for an airline at Logan Airport and she can get us good tickets.”

I sputtered, “But ... but...”

Taylor took off again, “I know you’re worried about pulling this off, but I figure we have four weeks before the holiday, and we can learn a bit about each other each day. Even more awkward will be the sleeping arrangements. My parents are old school, so I’m sure that we’ll be assigned separate rooms. They have a three-bedroom home. That’s the ‘no sex’ part of the weekend, but maybe you can stock up between now and then.”

“St ... stock up?” I muttered in a downbeat tone.

I finally got my head in gear about her proposal. I told her to get her things and that we were going to dinner. Big spender that I am, I took her to a modest place called the Thai House. She liked that idea. Walking there neither of us said a word, and I was kind of pulling her along as we held hands so we could stay together on the busy sidewalks. As we walked, my mind was going a thousand-miles-per-hour.

We got a booth in the restaurant with no one else near us. After we’d ordered, I started whispering to her. “Taylor, I really like you – a lot. I’d hate to lose you as my assistant, but I can’t do this to you. This is propagating a lie. Think about this in the longer term; what then? What happens when your family finds out that I’m a fake or worse they investigate me and find out what kind of person I am?”

She smiled and then insisted, “No it’s not a lie. You just said you liked me, and you’ve told me dozens of times that you respect me and think that I’m smart, competent, friendly, and a great person. Earlier today you told me that I excel in my job. That’s all that’s required. As far as anybody else is concerned, my relatives included, we are not far enough along in our relationship to even think of anything more serious than what we’re already doing when we date. While we’re there, we can do some fun stuff outside the house, too. You won’t be ‘on stage’ all the time. I can help manage any frictions.”

I said, “Oh, yeah, about that ‘stocking up’ part you mentioned. People can’t stock up on sex, like you would save money or food or something to use later. I couldn’t do that because I’m horny all the time; it doesn’t matter whether I’ve just had sex or whether it has been a week or thirty minutes. Further, and worse, I am what is called a ‘player’. You know that. I barely have any morals.”

“A player? What’s that mean?”

“The term refers to mostly men who have had and continue to have many sexual partners – I emphasize the word ‘many’. Come on, you kid me every Monday morning about my weekends that have been filled with sex, each weekend with a different partner. I’ve been careful to never mention sex with you, too. I don’t want to get near a sexual harassment issue, and I certainly don’t want to lose you for any reason. You are my critical success factor in my work.

“I avoid having sequential dates right after I’ve been together with someone because I don’t want to give the impression of starting an ongoing romance or relationship. I seriously avoid commitment. I somehow know how to act around women that makes me attractive to them. I try to turn that off in the office, but still, it’s there. I think everyone knows that I took Monica and her best friend out and then fucked them into oblivion not long ago. She talked. I didn’t.

“Apparently, it doesn’t take me much effort to score, and I have liked being with every one of them, and I think the feeling has been mutual. When I do ask for a second or third date, I am always successful. For instance, that co-ed that I brought home last weekend I picked up on the transit train after only ten minutes of idle chit-chat, and then some wooing over the subsequent dinner date. We were each other’s dessert in my large bed. She wants to go out again, but I won’t see her again for at least a month – probably longer.”

“But you get turned down sometimes, too, right?” Taylor asked.

“Last year. Once. Along with occasional repeats, I’ve been with a different woman just about every weekend over the past three years since I started working here. Most stay from Friday to Sunday or even Monday morning. A lot of that time, we are ... well, you know.”

Taylor gawked at me. “Yeah, fucking. Wow. That’s amazing. You’re amazing. I figured all that out, too.”

I went on, “So, I’m not the best candidate to pick to be your temporary boyfriend. One of your parents or some other relative will sniff out that I have that kind of background and reputation, and it will reflect poorly on you. You’ll be seen as making a bad choice of boyfriend, and that’ll probably worry them far more than you not having one. Even worse, it might get you labelled as a slut because you’re willing to consort with a man-slut like me.”

Taylor shook her head, “No. No. It’ll be the opposite. They’ll think that I’ve finally got my ‘boyfriend act’ together and that, yes, we’re fucking each other’s lights out on a regular basis. Even if they think you’re a player, it’ll help put me in that category, too, or at least closer to it. That’s what I want.

“Look at me. I’m this plain, mousy girl with little hope of attracting any male interest. I even thought about becoming a lesbian to double my chances of finding somebody, but that’s not me either, although I admit to being bi-curious.

“I don’t care if they think of me as a slut. I’ll tell them I’m a Sexually-Liberated Urban Tart, instead of the stuck-up, virginal, young bitty that everyone thinks I am. I’m changing – I want to change. I want to be liberated. I’m not sure how, but I’ve resolved to try – an early resolution. I will need the help of a ‘player’ like you, but I think that I’m ready. I need to improve myself, my looks, and my attitude. I’m desperate.

“I want to feel empowered and in control of my body. Right now, I feel stagnant. I want something to happen, and I’m not where I want to be. Oh, my job is fine. I like what we do and I feel that I’m constantly getting better at it, even as we get more challenging cases.

“I think that I’m also rebelling about the double-standard between men and women. You get to be a ‘player’ and fuck, fuck, fuck all the time, but if I do that, even a little, then I’m a slut. Well, I want that. I’ll even pretend to be your slut when we’re at my home for Thanksgiving if that’ll make you happy.”

“But you’re not, and we’ll be in separate rooms anyway,” I speculated.

Taylor was thoughtful for a moment. The she lit up with an idea. “I know how to fix that. We’ll both know about and talk about some small details in each other’s apartments – especially in our bedrooms. Then they’ll know that I’ve been in your place and that you’ve been in mine. We won’t emphasize it. It’ll just be some factual tidbit, like the color of your sheets or the kind of reading light I have beside my bed.”

I rolled my eyes. “What if I decide that I want to come onto you?”

“Really?” she squeaked in an excited tone. “That’d be ... the best. Then we really would be an event of some kind, and I’m sure that our chemistry would be palpable. I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t like you. In fact, you’re the only male that I like, and I like you a lot.”

I shook my head again. “I’m not sure what kind of actor I could be for you.”

Taylor smiled, “All you have to do is be yourself. Good Lord, we interact back and forth for eight to ten hours every weekday. It’ll be the same, except there’ll be other people around. You can even ask me questions about my background. That’d be normal since I grew up around Rochester. You’d be all curious about that, like how far away the high school is or where the prom was held and who I went with.”

I asked, “What about the gap in our ages?”

Taylor went, “Pfffft. Not an issue. Three years is nothing. You’re thirty, and I’m twenty-seven. That’s normal. By the way, my birthday is June twentieth and I know your birthday is March tenth.”

“What about that I’m so much more experienced than you are, especially sexually?”

“Oh, my loving boyfriend, you are also my mentor and sensei as I grow and evolve in new and interesting ways. You are helping to mold me into a sensitive and caring person, and fucking ‘hot’ adult woman capable of love, sexual intimacy, and accomplishment in life.”