J. McKenna - Wanted - Kept Woman

“Oh, god! I don’t want to date Donald Trump!”

“You know what I mean. You should at least take the first step.”

Suzanne allowed herself to consider the idea. “You really think so? You don’t think he’s a stalker?”

“No, I don’t. And you know how I can read men.”

Suzanne’s conservative side jumped in again. “Oh, yeah—like Archie last year? That was a great read.”

Wendy made a face. “One slip-up and you never let me live it down. How was I to know he was on probation?”

“Yeah, for flashing!”

Wendy held up a hand, her wineglass steady in the other. “All right, all right. But you know, overall, I’m a pretty good judge of men.”

Suzanne shrugged. “Yeah. You did try to warn me about Sam.”

Wendy rolled her eyes. “Yeah. At least I didn’t marry any of my mistakes!”

Suzanne took a healthy drink of wine. Her face showed she was thinking about it. Wendy jumped on it.

“Come on. I will if you will.”

Suzanne took the paper from her friend and read through it. She bit her bottom lip. Could she really do this? Then she spotted something at the bottom of the page.

“Oh, no!”

“What?”

“They want two photos, a head shot and a full-body shot!”

“Clothed?” Wendy put in.

Suzanne shot her a level look. “You slut. Come on, Wendy, that’s going to kick me right out of the running. I’m still too f— Well, not skinny enough yet. I can’t do this.”

“You are not fat! You’re not even pleasingly plump anymore. Besides, maybe he likes a woman with a little padding. Maybe he’s looking for a good breeder—you never know!”

Suzanne gasped. “No! Stop that! Now I’m sure I don’t want to do this. This is the craziest idea you’ve ever come up with.”

“Oh, come on. I’m going to do it. I brought my digital camera. This will be fun. We’ll get a little drunk, and send them in and forget about it, okay?”

By herself, Suzanne never would have taken such a dramatic step. Yet, the support of her friend emboldened her. She allowed her reckless side to push aside her conservative side for once in her life. She gave Wendy a half-grin. Come on , she told herself, what could be the harm?

“Okay.” She sighed elaborately. “I’ll just consider it practice, a way to get my nerve up for meeting a real man. Now pour me another glass of wine.”

They each filled out their questionnaires carefully, trying not to exaggerate too much. “The woman on the phone stressed that honesty was of critical importance,” Wendy told her.

“Maybe so, but I’m subtracting another five pounds because I fully intend to lose it,” Suzanne retorted.

Let’s see, age: 32; height: 5-5; weight: Well, hell, I can lie a little there; hair: brown; eyes: brown… or maybe I should say ‘dark amber’. Men like amber eyes, don’t they? Or does that make me sound like a mountain lion?

Afterwards, Wendy made her stand up and snapped a couple of pictures. Suzanne wore three different outfits before she was satisfied with the digital image. Her new dark blue dress was the most flattering so she allowed Wendy to upload that picture, plus a simple face shot, to the email containing the completed questionnaire. Looking at her photo, Suzanne actually thought a man might consider her pretty.

“Okay, that’s it. You ready?” Wendy’s hand was poised over the “Send” button. Suzanne grimaced and nodded. Zing! The email vanished.

“Now your turn,” Suzanne said, pouring her third glass of wine.

Fifteen minutes later, amid much giggling, Wendy’s information, plus two photos that showed what a knockout she was, was sent to the mysterious stranger.

Suzanne had a sudden thought. “How long do you think it might take for them to get back to us?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a week or so.”

“Shit.”

“What?”

“Well, if it is going to take that long, I should’ve subtracted another five pounds!”

Brian looked with dismay at the pile of letters on his desk. “Rebecca!”

His secretary came in, a bemused expression on her face. “Yes, Brian?”

“What the hell is this? How am I supposed to get any work done?”

She came over and began flipping through the pile. “Well, as Confucius would say…”

“I know, I know, ‘A journey of a thousand miles…’ I just didn’t expect such a response. There must be five hundred letters here!”

“Oh, that reminds me, you need to download your email.” With that, she spun Brian’s computer around and tapped a few keys. Brian sat there, eyes wide, mouth ajar, a look of dread on his face as his email box filled with line after line of responses.

“No! No! This is a nightmare!”

“Oh, stop,” Rebecca responded. “You should be flattered. Look at all these women who want to meet you!”

Brian shook his head. “I’m sorry I ever started this. Let’s just trash everything and move on.”

Rebecca put her arms on his desk and leaned over. “Oh, no! I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to set this up. The least you can do is look through some of them. Come on, we both know what you’re looking for.”

Brian’s eyes took on a crafty glint. “That’s a good idea.” He sat up. “That’s a great idea!”

Rebecca stepped back, suspicious. “What do you mean?”

He smiled. “I’ll look at some… After you sort through them for me.”

His secretary stepped back again and brought her hands up. “That’s not in my job description, Mr. Armstrong.” The sudden use of his surname was not lost on Brian.

“It is now. You got me into this mess, you can help get me out. Besides, you know what I want better than I do, right? You’ve seen the mistakes I’ve made. This is your chance to play Cupid.” He indicated the mail. “When you get all these sorted down to a reasonable number, call me.”

Rebecca just shook her head and sighed. “You’d better get used to answering your own phones for awhile.”

Ten days later, Rebecca showed up at his office, beaming.

“What’s this?” he asked, then paused. “You can’t be done already.”

“Oh, yes I can!” With a flourish, she deposited several letters on his desk. “Here are your finalists.”

Brian flipped through the stack, looking at the photos first. Some were reasonably good-looking but none had the looks of a supermodel. For a moment, he was disappointed then he caught himself. He glanced at Rebecca.

She nodded, as if reading his mind. “I figured you’d go by looks alone. You men! That’s what’s been getting you into trouble all these years. You see a gorgeous woman, but you know almost immediately that her personality doesn’t match yours. Mostly because she’s strong-willed, like you. You date for a while anyway, hoping she’ll change or that you were mistaken. Then, when it’s clear she’s not your type, you move on—to the next gorgeous woman and start all over again.” She put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you see? You need a real woman—one who is compatible to your, um, interests.”

“My interests?” He smiled.

“You know what I mean. A submissive. You’re a very strong-willed man, Brian, and some women are really attracted to that.” She indicated the pile of letters. “In here, you’ll find some of those women.”

He looked through the stack again, this time reading the answers to the questions as he held the pictures in the other hand. He’d read, then stare at the photo, then read some more. Finally, he raised his eyes to his secretary.

“You may just have something here,” he allowed.

Two weeks went by. Except for some idle speculation the first few days, Suzanne had quite forgotten about the ad. Wendy mentioned it once, to see if her friend had heard anything. Suzanne told her no and suspected Wendy was wondering why she hadn’t heard—after all she was a knockout.