Monthlies
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"So when will we be leaving?" We were always going somewhere so I knew Becky would have an answer.
"Tomorrow: an 8 A.M. flight for Miami," Another early morning. Well I was used to them. Becky takes care of me--she runs my life; I knew without thinking that she had everything arranged.
"How long?"
"Four days, then Paris." I like Paris--I'm always up for that trip despite the flight.
"Gaultier?"
"No, that's next month."
"Will we be there long?"
"Two days." She must have seen my disappointed look: "Thinking of chucking it and retiring there?"
"Of course not. Well, not yet."
"So you plan to stick it out and collect the ten million the world is still willing to pay you."
"I suppose."
She thought for a second, then let out a giggle. "How would you like to earn the whole ten million in a month?"
"Becky; you didn't tell me you were a gambler." I smiled to make sure she took it as a joke.
"Gambler? Oh," and she laughed. "No, it's a job. I wasn't planning on even mentioning it to you; I mean: it's too crazy."
"Someone offered to pay me ten million for a month's work?"
"Yes," she said, stifling a laugh.
"Revlon! But..."
"No--it's anonymous."
"Anonymous!"
"That's why I wasn't even going to consider it."
"Some penniless crackpot."
She paused, then said more seriously: "Actually, the agency says it's quite legitimte."
"Oh, please!"
"No! It is. I was so curious that I had them checked into it. The law firm conveying the offer doesn't joke around."
"Some unknown company offered me ten million for a month's work?"
"Yes, isn't it a stitch?"
"What did they want me to do?"
"They didn't say: it all seems quite mysterious."
"Ten million!?"
"Yes."
"For some unknown service I can provide them!" The possibilities boggled the mind.
"That's it. That's the deal."
I don't know what came over me. It was just so crazy, and I felt crazy myself. "Ask for fifty."
She looked thoughtful. "This is a little wild for you. Are you sure you want to get involved with this?"
"I'm not getting involved, I'm just letting them know one of my conditions!"
"Don't you think it's dangerous?". But then her expression changed and finally she giggled again, "Fifty million!"
"Come on, Becky, I know you'd like to know what they'll say."
Three days later I was coming back from the day's shoot and out of the blue, Becky says "They agreed!"
"Who! What!" She had an almost stricken look on her face.
"The fifty million! They've agreed to pay it."
"No way!"
"They did. Here, look at this." She handed me a letter. I started scanning it. We are pleased to meet your asking price, fifty million dollars... I gasped.
"Did they say any more about what it's about?"
"No. Well, they did say... they suggested that for meeting your price that you owe them the chance to explain the details and sell you on the idea."
"Becky, I don't know about this!"
"I knew you shouldn't lead them on. I think you'd better stand them up." I couldn't believe it. Fifty million dollars! One month! Either there was some kind of sex involved or it was a whale of an advertising campaign! Fifty million for sex? It had to be the richest man in the world, or one of them. Some middle-east oil sheik?
"What do they want me to do? To hear the details."
"They want you to contact a certain bank next time you are in New York City." A bank? Well, with fifty million, I guess a bank would be involved.
Walking through the bank's lobby, I got the usual stares. Well, they'd have something to talk about when they got home. I thought of my mother and what she would do if she'd happened upon a celebrity. I guess they'll be entertaining their friends for a month. Then we were in the elevator. The receptionist at this Mr. Prescott's office showed us in immediately. He was older, perhaps fifty, tall and only slightly heavyset, with thinning gray hair. He quickly dispensed with formalities and got right to the point.
"My work at the bank is to handle delicate escrow situations, usually associated with the sale of private corporations. Before I explain the financial portion of the proposal, I was instructed to give you this sealed envelope and allow you to read the contents."
I opened the envelope. In it was one short typewritten paragraph: If you agree to this proposal, you will place yourselves in the hands of agents made known to you by Mr. Prescott who will transport you by private jet to an island whose location will never be revealed. After one month's time, you will be returned to Mr. Prescott with no physical injuries and no harm to your reputation.
I looked up at him, staring. He spoke up: "I have been given complete control of accounts valued at two hundred million dollars with the instructions to transfer fifty million to your control the very moment you place yourself in my client's hands, and to transfer the other one-hundred fifty million at the end of the month if I judge you are not returning in perfect physical shape, and with your reputation intact. And even after my initial judgement, I will continue to control the one hundred fifty million for twelve months, it being stipulated that I will still transfer it to you if I later judge the conditions of the agreement have not been met.
"I'm instructed not to accept any answer from you at this point. I will contact you in three days to see if you have reached a decision. If you remain reluctant, the offer will remain open though naturally my client retains the right to withdraw the offer at any time. Thank you for your time."
I sat there staring at him. This was so crazy. He gathered some papers into a pile, took his attache case and left, excusing himself, leaving us alone in the office. Becky and I left immediately after.
"Becky, can you believe this? Two hundred million?"
"Listen, let's forget all this, please!" Becky was a little predictable-- she seemed to think I wasn't a grown woman, capable of keeping out of trouble.
"But it's so outrageous."
"You shouldn't mess with them! With that money, they're serious. Please just tell him no and forget it."
"Oh, I'll tell him no all right, but it's just so amazing that this mysterious client is spending so much! Two hundred million!"
"That's only if they don't keep their part of the bargain. I wish I'd never brought this up--can't you get it off your mind?"
"A mysterious island!"
"Look, please get your mind on something else! You'll tempt yourself into it!"
Becky could be like that: afraid to even think about something wild like a fifty-million dollar offer at, well, prostitution probably. I'd be the most expensive hooker ever! I gave Becky a break, but I couldn't help wonder what kind of man this was making this offer.
I thought about it. I go to an island, and fulfill this guy's fantasy. He doesn't hurt me and no one ever knows about it. I have sex with him. Fifty million dollars in one month! What would he be like? Old? Fat? I'd never know. Could he be young? How would a young man get so much money? What sort of man was so turned on by my kind of looks that he'd spend fifty million dollars?
Why didn't he just propose to me? Not that I'd necessarily accept. Maybe he figured that. It was all so weird. But I couldn't get my mind off it. "You're thinking about that offer, aren't you?" Becky asked. She knows me. She had a disgusted look on her face.
"I'm just curious about it," I answered.
"Don't think about it!" she said. " Please put it out of your mind!" Good old Becky. She ought to have known me well enough to know her warnings would just make me more curious.
I wondered all day about the call from Mr. Prescott. I never got it. "He never called," I mentioned to Becky that night. She didn't say anything. Not thank heavens or anything. "You're probably glad," I finally added. I noticed something about the way she was acting. I spoke up again: "he called, didn't he?"
"You didn't need to talk to him!"
"It's my decision!"
"But you can't decide to do something like this! It's impossible!"
"Becky!" My voice was raised. I paused, and consciously lowered it. "I'm sorry: you help me manage my career, and I'm grateful you're looking out for me." She looked visibly relieved. We didn't say any more--in fact, we were a little too quiet with each other.
I thought as I lay in bed. Fifty million all at once. Retire in Paris. Maybe do a few runway shows a year, only whatever I feel like. The Riviera. Anytime. A yacht. Two. No, a big one with a huge crew. Go to benefits. Give money to the President's reelection. Big money. People would be coming to me!
"You should have given me the call," I said to Becky in the morning. "If he calls again, make sure you get him back for me." I looked at her. She didn't answer me and she looked nervous. "He said he'd call again, didn't he?"
"Yes."
"Listen, you really don't have to worry about this. I'm a grown woman and can take care of myself." She suddenly looked very nervous. I was briefly thrown again by her attitude--it's not like I was planning on accepting the deal or anything!
I was on break when she approached, the phone in her hand. She didn't even say a thing--I could just see from her look what it was. "Please!" she mouthed to me. I still couldn't believe she was so worried about this.
I took the phone.
"Well, have you made your decision yet?"
"I... I'll do it." I couldn't believe I said it. Becky almost fainted.
We stood in the wind at an airport. A small jet was in front of us. Mr. Prescott explained the details, going on and on about how he was going to transfer the fifty million immediately and would be there when I returned, and that Becky would be there too, to corroborate his judgement. And how a person was arranged to take over custody of the account if anything should happen to him. And on and on he went. I stared at the plane. There were two men, both in dark grey coveralls. One must be a pilot.
"Take care of yourself," Becky said, looking worried and forlorn. I crossed the field to the jet, which was ready to go. I had no luggage, as per instructions. The men both wore sunglasses. They assisted me through the door, and into a seat. Then one of them showed me a blindfold and put it on me. Then I was strapped in the seat. Then I was handcuffed! "Hey! I don't need to be..."
Something was pushed in my mouth! Gagged! Somehow, I didn't imagine it like this! It had been very clear that I was putting myself under the man's control. I had even thought about being tied up. And whipped--or something. Facing this for real was something else, though.
They put earphones on me. There was soft music and a voice, a low woman's voice that kept saying relax and go to sleep. We flew and flew. Blindfolded and gagged, it seemed forever. I don't think I slept. Finally we landed and I was unstrapped and led out of the plane. Still blindfolded, handcuffed, and gagged.
I was made to stoop down and kneel on the ground. My bound hands were attached to something on the ground. Then my clothes were ripped off, piece by piece! Then my gag was removed.
"What's going on?" I said, almost reflexively.
"Quiet!" came the one word answer. I cringed.
Then they left! Took off! I heard the jet leave--there was no way I could miss that, then absolutely nothing! I was kneeling on the ground, wearing nothing but a blindfold and handcuffs, my hands attached to the ground, outside, and had no idea what was going on around me. I couldn't hear a thing!
I just knelt there and waited. Finally it got to be too much for me. I bent my head down to my hands and pulled off my blindfold. Ocean. It was all around--I was on a small, completely flat island with absolutely nothing, and with ocean as far as I could see in every direction!
It was rocky and flat without a bit of vegetation, and there was a single runway. My handcuffs were attached to a metal ring that was attached to a large rock in the ground. I could see that it was easy to detach my hands, but I couldn't reach the release!
I sat there and sat there. I started getting worried. I recalled the money--fifty million dollars; two hundred million! I'd stopped thinking about it--the reality was so much more... frightening than my imaginings.
It seemed forever. Finally I heard something and turned to see a plane approaching. It was pretty close by the time I noticed it above the sound of the ocean. It was completely black--not even a number painted on it-- and was another small jet similar to the one I'd been on.
I watched as it landed and pulled up. Two people got out: a man and a woman. Both wore sunglasses and I couldn't see their faces well. Both were dressed very neatly: in suits!
"Oh, thank God you're here," I said, unable to control myself, I guess. The woman put her finger over her lips, indicating that I should stay quiet. The man picked up the blindfold off the ground and put it back on me.
I was detached from the ground and made to stand and soon they had me in the plane. My handcuffs were removed, but then I was guided to lying face down in it and tied down, spread-eagled. The plane took off.
I lay there, unable to move, flat on my stomach. The flight went on and on. No one said anything to me though I heard a little talking. Finally we landed.
I heard them get out of the plane. I was left there for several minutes. Finally the door opened again and I heard someone say "Uh huh... OK." Then it shut again. It seemed like forever, and it finally opened and someone detached me from the floor and handcuffed my wrists again and led me out of the plane, still blindfolded.
It was immediately obvious that a number of people were around. Mostly they didn't talk about me, but occasionally they referred to "her" or "the merchandise" and it was evident they were talking about me. Then I was walked for a while and ended up in a building of some sort. Finally my blindfold was removed. It was like a little air terminal and there were numerous people going in and out, none paying me any attention! It had been a man dragging me in and he had brought me to a woman. The man was in coveralls that suggested "airport", but the woman was in a neat little dress. She smiled at me. "Welcome to our island," she said. She was beautiful, and tall, and photogenic, I guessed. She could be a model. Her cheerfulness struck an odd chord with me. Occasionally someone would peek at me, but for the most part, no one seemed to care. Then she told me to follow her and led me out.
The island was very pretty and green and I was sure it was in the tropics somewhere. Beyond that, I had no idea. There were numerous other people, some of whom took the trouble to look at me and some who didn't seem to notice! There I was, naked and handcuffed, being led among all those normal-looking people. The woman could definitely be a model. I saw other women who looked like models. Briefly I wondered why this guy needed me.
Finally I was led into a rather large building, down a hall, and into a bedroom. "This is where you will stay, at least for now," she volunteered. She looked down the hall and said something, and another woman came in. She was also tall and looked to be a model, but she was dressed in a plain gray dress, like a maid's. "Jill here will take care of you, for now," the woman said and she took off my handcuffs. At last! Jill's dress had a belt and the woman attached the handcuffs to it and gave Jill the key. "Grab Jill's wrist," the woman said. I stared for a moment, confused. "Grab it!" she repeated and Jill held one arm out to me so I could take hold of her wrist.
I didn't manage to. In two seconds, I was on the bed, face down, Jill straddling my body, with my hands behind me. "Just remember that Jill has been trained to handle people like you," the woman said, and left.
"You should take a bath," Jill said and she went into the bathroom and started running water. I looked around the room. I wondered about clothes. There was a closet door so I peeke in. Nothing. In a dresser, every drawer was empty. I checked the door to the hall: it was locked. I finally joined Jill in the bathroom. This was an attractive jail cell.
The bathroom was huge and the bath looked wonderful--it was a very large rectangular tub. Jill had prepared it with bubble-bath. She held my hand as I stepped in.
I needed this. I felt like I was worn out from doing nothing. From the tension, I guess. I just sat in there, and relaxed. Jill started doing my hair. She was behind me--I looked back at her and she was wearing a one- piece swimsuit; it was styled like a racing suit. Her body was good--she had to be a model.
"Do you model?" In finally asked.
"I used to."
"How long have you been here?"
"No talking now. Relax." She continued to do my hair. She worked slowly and was very gentle.
"Who brought me here?"
"I said 'relax'." She finished my hair and knelt next to me, doing my face. She was very careful and knew what to do. "You will find out more tonight," she finally said. She started washing my shoulders. I was being prepared.
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