Free Pleasure Seekers by Rochelle Alers Page B

and tell me the good news.”
    “All passed the drug test,” Astrid began, smiling. Enid had directed her to order testing kits from a company in the Midwest rather than send the urine samples to a local laboratory. The kits were more expensive than lab fees, but the advantage was that the wait time for results was instantaneous.
    “I’ll begin with Ilene Fairchild,” the booker continued. “She’s single, thirty, speaks fluent French and began modeling at the age of fifteen. She was born Ella Williams in Gulfport, Mississippi, but legally changed her name for professional purposes. Ilene lived in Belgium and France for thirteen years before returning to the States two years ago.”
    “What about her education?” Enid asked.
    “She never attended high school, but has a GED.” Astrid paused. “I don’t know if this is going to present a problem…” Her words trailed off.
    “What kind of problem?”
    Astrid heard the slight edge that had crept into Enid’s voice. It wasn’t often that she saw the owner of Pleasure Seekers lose her composure, and when she did, it usually did not bode well for the person who’d upset her.
    “She only checked off Caucasian in the racial-preference category.”
    Enid lifted an eyebrow. “Why do you see that as a problem?”
    Astrid paused again. “I believe it would limit her earning potential.”
    “What did she indicate as a reason for signing on as an escort?”
    “She wants a husband.”
    “I don’t see her wanting to date white men as a problem,” Enid said. “I don’t know if Ilene is aware of it, but she’s more European socially oriented than American. And since she is a former supermodel, most men, regardless of race, would want to be seen with her. What is a problem is her wanting to use P.S., Inc. as a dating service, because most of our clients are already married. What about Alana and Faye?”
    “Both indicated they’re signing on to make money.”
    Good for them, Enid mused. If Faye and Alana were motivated by money, then it stood to reason that they were willing to work—and often.
    Biting back a smile, Enid nodded. “What else, Astrid?”
    “Alana’s racial choices are African and Caribbean American, Hispanic and Middle Eastern. Faye’s preferences are African and Caribbean American, followed by Hispanic, Native American and, lastly, Caucasian.”
    Enid listened intently as her assistant revealed what she’d gleaned from the three personality profiles. “Fax everything to Victor and label it Rush.” She handed the folders back to Astrid.
    A soft exhalation of breath from Enid followed Astrid’sdeparture. She didn’t know why, but she felt as if she’d been holding her breath since the night she’d met Marcus at the Four Seasons to discuss the decline in their company’s profits.
    Rising to her feet, she walked into her office and sat down at the glass table. Reaching for a Montblanc fountain pen, she unscrewed the cap. The writing instrument, a Christmas gift from one of her clients, was one of only seventy-five of a limited edition produced two years before. It took her nearly three months to write with a pen whose price tag astounded her. She would’ve sold it and donated the money to her favorite charity if it hadn’t been engraved with her name.
    Unconsciously her brow furrowed as navy blue ink flowed over the pale blue blank page. May 24—I will know within hours whether Alana, Ilene and Faye will become P.S., Inc.’s latest social companions.
    Enid paused, the solid gold nib poised over the page as the delicate chiming of the telephone shattered her concentration. Marcus’s name and cell phone number showed in the display. She pushed a button for the speaker.
    “Are you calling to cancel dinner?” A deep husky laugh greeted her query.
    “No. But there’s going to be a change of plans.”
    Enid sat up straighter. Marcus knew she didn’t like surprises. “What is it?”
    “I’ve decided to cook for you.”
    Her pulse