“I know. Now, I’m not saying congregations everywhere would be so judgmental,” Laurel added. “That’s just my personal perception of my own church.”
“That’s why I don’t tell anyone that I’m an escort.” This was from Noelani, an exotic beauty from Hawaii. “I know they wouldn’t understand or approve, especially my family. They’re very traditional and conservative. Hell, my parents just want me to hurry up and finish my doctorate so I can get married.”
“Mine, too,” Laurel commiserated.
Claudia grinned crookedly. “This conversation we’re having would be great material for a show on Oprah’s network.”
The others laughed.
“Seriously,” she insisted. “We should invite Oprah to one of our spa days. I don’t think she’s ever gone inside the lives of professional escorts who don’t have sex with their clients.”
Zandra chuckled dryly. “Tell you what, Claude. The next time you’re at a party with Oprah, feel free to pitch the idea to her.”
“I think I will,” Claudia declared, drawing a chorus of amused groans. Given the wealthy status of their clientele, it wasn’t uncommon for any of the escorts to find themselves at the same glitzy event as Oprah, and Claudia was just bold enough to proposition the famous media mogul.
Noelani sighed, gazing up at the tiled ceiling of the bathhouse. “Maybe it’s just the romantic in me, but I do sometimes catch myself fantasizing about meeting Mr. Right—a dashing prince who will sweep me off my feet and carry me off to his castle in the forest.”
Laurel snorted humorously. “I already found my Mr. Right. Met him at the Castle adult megastore, and he only cost me about forty bucks. He vibrates, he can’t knock me up, and he takes me anywhere my imagination can go.”
As the others shrieked with laughter, Noelani blushed self-consciously and murmured, “I guess I’m the only sap around here.”
“No, you’re not,” Claudia laughingly assured her. “Though some of us would never admit it, we’ve all fantasized every now and then about getting swept off our feet by a handsome tycoon like Julia Roberts did in Pretty Woman.”
“And don’t forget Lena,” Yana added.
This elicited envious sighs and murmurs at the memory of Lena and Roderick’s breathtakingly romantic waterfront wedding.
“Doesn’t get any more fairy tale than meeting and falling in love with a gorgeous billionaire,” Claudia said.
“I know.” Laurel smiled fondly. “Couldn’t have happened to a sweeter person.”
“Hear, hear,” the others chorused, raising their glasses in a toast to Lena.
As they drank, Noelani sighed deeply. “Who knows? Maybe my next client will be Mr. Right.”
Zandra sure as hell hoped not, considering that Noelani’s next client would be Remy. She’d already had serious misgivings about setting up the date. Learning that Noelani was a hopeless romantic didn’t exactly put her mind at ease.
“So what about you, boss lady? You ever fantasize about meeting Mr. Right?”
Zandra’s face heated as nine pairs of eyes settled on her. “Me?”
Claudia chuckled. “Yeah, you.”
“Hmm.” Zandra sipped her wine, stalling as she pretended to ponder the question. She didn’t share many personal details with her escorts. Not because she didn’t like or trust them, but because she’d always been fiercely private, and as their employer, she felt it was necessary to maintain some professional boundaries.
During their monthly gatherings, she often assumed the nurturing role of counselor as they bared their souls, and they never seemed to mind that she knew more about them than they knew about her.