Say what? I shook my head, because clearly I was hearing things. “Did you just…the club will pay for a business venture, just to attend an open call event?”
Alex nodded. Whoa. “What’s the catch?”
Alex held up an elegant hand. “Let me finish going over the benefits first, and then we’ll get to that. As a consort, you’ll also be gifted a club-appropriate wardrobe, and if you’re chosen by one of our patrons and enter into a contract to be his consort, then all of your entertainment, clothing, travel, and associated costs will be assumed by your patron. Many of our consorts go on to sign lifetime contracts, or even get married…and of course, there’s the invaluable networking opportunity you’ll receive from attending these events and rubbing elbows with our city’s wealthiest men. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m famished. Why don’t you give yourself a few minutes to process that while we look over the menu and order?”
Fine by me. My head reeled with everything he’d just told me. Free trips? Cash gifts? Wardrobes and food? Sure, the whole consort and patron thing was a little outside of the normal world, but I guessed billionaires probably had lots of weird rules they lived by that we normal guys never had an inkling about.
As I glanced at the menu, an incredible scent wafted over from the plates a waiter carried past us—garlic and butter mixed with shrimp and a hint of something spicy. So many delicious-looking entrees, it was hard to choose. I finally decided on the fresh sea bass. The waiter appeared like magic once I closed my menu with a wine bottle to refill Alex’s glass and a fresh beer for me. We ordered, and then Alex leaned back against the booth and draped one arm across the top; the picture of ease.
Recruiter for the Billionaire Club, huh. There was definitely a story there. I mean, from the way this had all played out, I was pretty sure that you didn’t get a job like that by cruising the want ads on Craigslist. I wondered how he’d lucked into the job.
“Any questions off the top of your head? I mean, beyond the obvious ones, like why is a guy as sexy and eligible as me still single?” Alex said with a wink. I tried not to snort. As for questions, yeah, I had like a hundred or so. “One main one, I guess—this is all consensual, right? No one has to hook up with someone they aren’t interested in?”
For the first time, Alex’s expression turned serious. “No, absolutely not. Consent is a crucial element for the club. In fact, there’s a whole strict process we follow, which includes a trial period of three dates where no sex is allowed. At the end of that time, both parties must agree to either enter into the relationship or else the contract is voided.”
I had to admit, that made me feel a lot better about this whole club idea.
Wait. Was I seriously considering giving this consort thing a try?
I sipped my fresh beer and realized, hell, yeah, I really was. Why not? At the very least, I wanted to check out an event. What kind of anthropology student would I be if I passed an opportunity like this up?
As I glanced around at all the other couples in the restaurant though, I knew research purposes weren’t the main reason. I’d been so busy lately that I had to admit I was a little lonely. My personal life wasn’t making any headlines lately.
Our food arrived and we ate our meals and talked.
“So where do you think that couple met?” Alex nodded at an elderly, dour-looking couple sitting in the booth across from us. The woman’s mouth remained constantly puckered, like her saliva glands secreted lemon juice instead.
“I have no idea...the grocery store?”
Alex shook his head. “No, much too mundane. I bet they met at one of those Korean spas, you know, where everyone is naked? And what drew them together was the fact that they both went to the front to complain about the service at the same time. She complained that the massage therapist didn’t give her glutes a good enough kneading while he complained that there was a speck of lint on the towels. Match made in heaven!”
I shuddered and laughed at the same time. “Please, never make me think of either of them naked again.”
Alex grinned and continued on, daring me to come up with outlandish ways the other couples met. The more he opened up, the more I wondered about his position as a recruiter. Not that he wasn’t excellent at his job, but he had this sort of sassy, wicked sense of humor that didn’t really fit in with my notions of what I guessed was a very formal institution. More than once, he had me snickering over my plate.
When we finished, Alex paid and walked me out to a waiting car. “The driver will drop you wherever you need to go. Here’s my card—take some time to consider my offer, and then give me a shout when you’re ready.”
When you’re ready, not if. The guy had confidence, I’d give him that.
We shook hands and then I slid into the back of the luxury vehicle.
“To 564 College Way?” the driver said, rattling off my address.
I shook my head. Alex had everything covered, didn’t he? Weird, but also, like I’d said before…a guy could get used to this.
I leaned back against the soft leather and enjoyed the short trip home. I tried to tip the driver but he shook his head and smiled, “It’s all been taken care of, Mr. Owens. Have a good night.”
Class and more class. Instead of frightening me off, all of this attention to detail filled me with increasing amounts of intrigue. Pretty sure there weren’t any Billionaire Clubs in my small Iowa hometown. More like, shit tons of corn fields and straight farmers—two of the main reasons I’d hightailed it out of there the first chance I got.
I attached the card to my refrigerator in my cramped kitchen with a magnet and vowed to give it some thought. Despite all the perks, I knew the club wouldn’t be for everyone. Me, though? I didn’t really have any hang-ups about the patron/consort relationship, so long as it was consensual…and didn’t involve slave auctions.
I kicked off my shoes, changed out of my suit and into my standard weekend uniform of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, and sank into the couch with a pile of work in front of me. Maybe it was crazy, but I was seriously considering Alex’s offer. As I finished polishing up an article for work in front of an Indiana Jones movie, the idea lurked in the back of my head, niggling away at my brain.
I really was a good candidate. As Alex presumably knew, I was single. Doing well enough for myself between grants and work to pay for grad school and have a small cushion left over. I didn’t want to be in the grind forever, though. At some point, I’d like to have enough cash to start my own venture, be my own boss. Travel the world.
Becoming a consort for the Billionaire Club could net me all that, and more. Networking opportunities, which would only come in handy for my future career, no matter which avenue I pursued. Plus, travel opportunities.
I mean, look at me. Here I was, on a Saturday night, and my only outing for the weekend was the charity auction. Grad school had killed my social life so far, and I was starting to feel the strain. Having a reliable, healthy sex partner instead of relying on apps to find a random hook-up when the need struck? Didn’t sound terrible. Temperance Christian University liked to talk a big game about being open-minded, but it wasn’t the sort of place a gay man would go to find a love connection.
I finished off the article before pushing the laptop to the side and clasping my hands behind my head. Honestly, when I thought about it, there were multiple reasons to accept the invitation, and really only one reason to decline.