Verena Vincent
Kayla's Cowboy Fantasy
Chapter One
“So, what you’re telling me is that I can order a man, just like a pizza?” Kayla Foreman asked with a small frown, raising one slim auburn eyebrow doubtfully at the woman across from her. Usually this particular look caused panic among her subordinates, but it wasn’t having the desired effect today. The current recipient of her Dragon Lady Stare seemed strangely oblivious to her intimidation tactics.
Kayla couldn’t actually remember the last time she’d been unable to fluster an opponent. She was a firm believer in keeping the upper hand, no matter what. Today, however, she was feeling more like the mouse than the cat for a change. A slither of discomfort slid through her at the thought of giving up even an inch of power to anyone else. Especially this woman who sold sex for a living.
Trying to appear casual and detached, Kayla crossed her long, silk-clad legs and picked imaginary lint off her tweed skirt as she waited for a response.
“Not at all,” said the elegant woman sitting behind the large, marble-topped desk. She smiled indulgently at Kayla, and leaned back in her chair for a moment before resuming her rigid upright position. “A pizza has a limited amount of options, and isn’t guaranteed to satisfy you. Our product, however, is only limited by your imagination. And if we somehow fail to live up to your expectations, we will gladly refund your money.”
Kayla gestured around her at the tastefully opulent office space owned by Delta of Venus Inc. “Miss Bright. I’ve been running my own multi-national sales department for the past six years. Surely you don’t expect me to believe that you can make this kind of profit in this economy without some kind of stipulation to prevent you clients from demanding a refund. Whether they’re satisfied with your product, or not?”
“I can honestly say that in the eight years this branch has been in operation, we’ve only been asked to issue one refund. And that was due to an ethical dilemma, rather than client dissatisfaction.” Miss Bright frowned at the memory, as if still offended by their imperfect record.
“Only one? That’s very impressive. What was the dilemma exactly?” Kayla asked, expecting her to decline to answer, or change the subject. She was quite shocked when Miss Bright returned her enquiring gaze directly and answered her with refreshing candor.
“The client and the Scene Facilitator fell in love. And technically it was not the client who asked for the refund, but the gentleman. He felt it was wrong to take her money once he became personally involved with her, so we respected his wishes and issued a refund.” She shrugged her shoulders and smoothed one hand over her already flawless platinum chignon.
“You call your hustlers ‘Scene Facilitators?’” Kayla asked with a smile, making air quotes with her fingers at the expression. “Talk about grandiose language. Be honest. Your stable of studs can’t be that much better than what you would find in an upscale brothel. Only the gender of your clientele is different.”
Instead of appearing offended, Miss Bright seemed amused. She gave a tinkling little laugh and shook her head in disbelief. “Our hustlers? How delightful. Our SFs are a far cry from the street prostitutes you envision. Most of our gentlemen have prominent careers; absolutely none of them are on drugs. And they do this because they want to, not because they have to.”