Page 10 of Fake it For Good
“Because they’re old,” I said.
“On the contrary,” Della replied. “Many of my clients are very handsome and very eligible. Their reasons for using my service are their own. I don’t ask. My job is to find and vet dates that will fulfill my clients’ needs.”
“Do you vet the clients?” I asked.
“I do,” she said. “I take my job seriously. I would never put anyone in harm’s way.”
“How much?” Marie asked. “I saw on the website it could be thousands for a single date.”
I frowned at her for being so forward. Della didn’t seem bothered by it at all. “That is true,” she said proudly. “My dates are the best of the best. We cater to a large variety of clients. Some want to have intellectual conversation all night. Some just want a pretty lady on their arm. There are all kinds of requests. Depending on the client’s requirements, length of time, and a few other factors, the dates may pay anywhere from three thousand to ten thousand. On average, it’s about five thousand.”
“Dollars?” Marie shrieked. “For one date?” She reached over and whacked my arm. “Did you hear her?”
“Ow,” I complained and rubbed my arm.
“I’ve had clients pay ten times that amount for a week or more,” Della said.
“And they actually pay?” I asked with disbelief.
“Every time,” she said.
“You know this is perfect,” Marie hissed. “Come on. Just think what you could do with that money.”
My head was swimming with the many things I could do. I was imagining armloads of toys and new clothes for the kids. Good toys, not the kind from the dollar store.
“I would imagine these wealthy clients expect their dates to look a certain way,” I said. “And dress a particular way.”
“Yes, they do,” she said. “The women that work for me are given a five-thousand-dollar clothing allowance. I work with a boutique that recycles dresses and other designer clothing. As far as the way you look, that depends on what the client needs. You might be asked to dress for a day at the beach or attend a black-tie wedding. I would expect you to present yourself as a dignified woman worthy of earning five-thousand dollars for a few hours of work.”
Marie slapped my arm again. “Five grand for clothes!”
I scowled at her again. “Stop hitting me. I have ears.”
“If you would like to fill out the paperwork, I can get you in the system after a quick background check,” Della said.
“I’ll do it,” Marie said eagerly.
“Noelle, do you have more questions?” Della asked politely.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve just learned if it sounds too good to be true, it usually is. What are we expected to do as dates?”
“Smile, shake hands, enjoy a nice dinner,” Della said.
“She’s asking if the dates are supposed to have sex,” Marie said. “Hand jobs. Blow jobs. All of that stuff.”
“I would prefer there was no sex, but my experience in this business has shown me love happens when you least expect it. I discourage sex. Every contract will include specifics about what is expected from a date. The client may need to sell a story. He might ask for there to be hand-holding or chaste kisses. You can choose to accept the terms or decline. No one is forced to do anything they don’t want to do.”
“See,” Marie said. “I’m in. What do I need to do?”
Della smiled and pulled a tablet from her desk. “Fill this out. I’ll need to take a quick picture of you when you’re finished.”
“Do our faces go in a catalog?” I snorted.
“Yes,” Della answered.
I wasn’t sure why I was acting like I didn’t want the job. I already had the money spent. “What happens if no one picks us from the catalog?”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Della said with a small laugh. “I have many, many requests and not enough dates. The holidays are when we are the busiest. Lots of parties and family functions that require impressive dates. I prefer to match dates to clients. I have a knack for it. I’ve never had an unhappy customer.”
