J. McKenna - Wanted - Kept Woman

“I think there’s someone there now,” the woman said and clicked on the set. In a few seconds, Suzanne saw an image of another, more formal room. A middle-aged blonde woman sat behind an ornate desk. She was dressed in expensive clothes and seemed poised and intelligent.

“Hello,” the black woman called. “Can you hear us okay?”

The image nodded. “Yes, just fine.” She looked in Suzanne’s direction. “You must be Suzanne?”

“Um, yes.”

The black woman indicated that Suzanne should sit down. “Just press this red button if you need anything and I’ll come right in.”

Suzanne sat as the clerk left. “Are you Rebecca?”

“Yes, I am. I’m so glad to finally meet you. I know this all seems so strange.”

“Yes, I’m rather nervous.”

“We’ll talk for a minute to get you relaxed. You’ll have a few minutes to chat and perhaps assure yourself that he’s legitimate. Ask any questions you want to. Anyone who passes this level will get to meet him in person, on a real date. My boss said he’s looking for between five and ten finalists out of the twenty-two women.”

“How will he determine who to cut?”

“The same way you can talk to someone at a party and determine whether or not you’re compatible in the first few minutes. Some people click and others don’t. I think you’ll know one way or the other at the end of the interview.” She looked off screen for a moment and nodded.

“Okay, my boss is here now so we’re ready to go. Are you ready?”

Suzanne suddenly lost her voice so she just nodded. She wished she had thought to bring in a glass of water.

“Hello, Suzanne.” He appeared suddenly onscreen. Suzanne couldn’t help but stare, speechless.

The man was a hunk. He was tall and full through the chest, as if he still worked out regularly. He had dark hair with speckles of gray at the temples, wide blue eyes with tiny crinkly lines around the edges—he could have been a runway model. She could picture him in an Armani suit, striding confidently through a crowd of celebrities at Cannes, or toasting a candidate for the Senate at a Washington D.C. fundraiser.

In some ways, he looked like an older version of Superman. He had the same square jaw, the same kind eyes, the same sardonic smile, as if he had a secret. He stood about six feet tall, she guessed. He wore a blue polo shirt, open at the collar. There was some logo on the shirt, but she couldn’t read it onscreen.

The image smiled at her. “You must be Suzanne. Let me introduce myself. I’m Brian Armstrong, president of Armstrong Control Systems.”

Suzanne had never heard of him or his company. She struggled to find her voice. “Um, I’m, uh, pleased to meet you.”

“Thanks. Are you all right?”

“Oh, sure. It’s just a little strange is all.”

“I can appreciate that. It’s strange to me too.”

“Why do it?” she suddenly blurted. “If you’re as rich as Rebecca says, you should be able to have any woman you want.”

He looked directly into the camera. Suzanne felt he was gazing into her soul. “It’s not easy meeting women in my circles.” He stopped. “That’s not right. I mean, I meet women everywhere but they too often carry with them certain expectations.”

“Such as?”

“Mainly a sense of entitlement. They want the best restaurants, the most exotic travel spots, the most expensive jewelry. After all, that’s what they’ve been used to all their lives.”

“But surely you could find a waitress or a flight attendant or someone who isn’t rich who’d love to go out with you.”

“Yes, I can. And many of them are so thrilled to be going out with a rich man that I feel like they’re really going out with my wallet. I could just stay home.”

The mental image caused Suzanne to laugh.

He seemed relieved at her reaction. “You have a very nice laugh, Suzanne.”

She blushed. “Thanks. Uh…getting back to that point, though, with all these ads and questionnaires from a mysterious millionaire, aren’t you just asking for women who want to date your wallet?”

“Perhaps. I’m hoping I’ll be able to find that one special gem among the rhinestones.”

Suzanne shook her head. “What made you think I might be that person?”

“Let’s say I was intrigued by your answers to the questionnaire.”

“Really?” Suzanne could feel herself blushing. “It took three glasses of wine to get through it.”

“Well, I’m glad you did.”

“So what was it that made you put my file in with the beautiful blondes and models?”

“Oh, is that how you think I made my selections? I shouldn’t be surprised—after all, you don’t know me. But it’s a fair question. I loved your responses. There was an honesty there that I’ve rarely found.”

“Speaking of honesty, I must tell you, I had some serious misgivings about answering. My friend Wendy convinced me to take a chance. I’m not normally like that.”

“Really? Why not?”

“Oh, I guess I’m just more shy, more reserved. She’s more of a free spirit.”

“I can appreciate that. I guess I like the shy, reserved types.” He smiled, showing even white teeth.

Suzanne wondered what it might be like to kiss that lovely mouth. She bit her lip, trying to focus. “Now, Brian. About that questionnaire. It was really over the line, don’t you think?”

“How so? I was trying to gather information as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, but so far, you have given us nothing of yourself, other than the barebones stats of your life.”

“Yes, that’s true. I’m being cautious, just like you. So what would you like to know?”

Suzanne smiled and reached down into her purse. “Well, I just so happen to have a questionnaire here…”

Brian laughed out loud. “See? I knew you were a real personality. Go ahead, fire away.”

She started at the top, reading the embarrassing questions one after another. To his credit, Brian didn’t flinch. He answered them without apparent evasion. A more complete picture of this intriguing man began to emerge.

He was born into a wealthy family, so he’d always enjoyed rank and privilege, yet he had a burning desire to make it on his own. He avoided his father’s business to start his own and has made it a success through hard work and occasional good luck.

On the personal side, Brian told her he’d lost his virginity when he was fifteen to the blonde princess next door who was a year older. Her parents found out and there was quite the hue and cry over it. While he had been smitten, the girl soon moved on to more mature conquests, breaking his heart, temporarily.

He liked to be dominant in his sexual relationships, a trait that seemed to fit his forceful and forthright personality. He even enjoyed a little bondage and discipline in his sex games, although not to a great extent. The thought made her tingle inside for reasons she couldn’t fully explain.

“I wondered about this ‘kept woman’ ad that you ran in the city. It seems contradictory. From what you’ve said, you don’t want a woman like that, who will lie around the pool or go shopping, except for when she’s needed to…er…make love to you. Do you want to keep your woman like a pet?”

He paused, then said, “No, but I don’t want her to try to control my life either.”

“How do you mean?”

“You’ll probably think I’m a caveman, but I’m tired of the constant battle for supremacy that goes on in most relationships today. I can’t blame women for wanting more control—I just don’t want to give up mine. When you have two people who are equal in a relationship, you end up constantly fighting turf wars. I want a woman who won’t mind being ‘kept’, and by that I don’t mean demeaned or abused. She should be the kind of woman who enjoys letting the man be a man. Does that make sense?”