or -two, broad-shouldered and tanned a warm, brown color that made you think of tropical beaches. He wore a yellow cashmere V-necked sweater and tight white jeans. There were no gold chains, diamond pinky rings or the other swinger jewelry turnoffs. He was, in other words, the male equivalent of his dream house and I wondered what in the world a guy like this with a place like this wanted with a call girl.
“You’re Tanya?” he asked, using the phony name I’d given when he phoned in response to the ad in Swinger’s Weekly.
“And you must be Dan,” I answered, pitching my voice low and sexy.
He nodded as he gave me the once-over. I was sure he would like what he saw. His smile confirmed my belief.
“You certainly fit your description in the ad.”
“You’re surprised?”
“A little. I figured there’d be a bit of puffing.”
I smiled to show him that I appreciated the compliment.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked.
“No, thanks,” I said, starting to hate what I was going to do. “And we should get the business part out of the way so it won’t interfere with your pleasure.”
“Sure, the money,” Dan said. “One thousand in cash, you said. I’ve got it here.”
He handed me an envelope and I thumbed through the ten crisp hundred-dollar bills inside it.
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