They met for coffee downtown on SoCo at an outside café during her lunch hour. His name was Michael. He didn’t offer his last name, and she did not ask it. She said that her name was Winter. He did not ask for her last name.
Michael explained more in depth what he was seeking. He was an IT professional. His career was demanding. He was based there in Austin, but he traveled. He was not interested in a traditional relationship, nor did he want to go to the trouble of developing a relationship.
“Dating is difficult to mesh with my schedule. I want to see someone about once or twice a week, perhaps more, when I’m in Austin. I’ll provide three thousand dollars a month, plus any clothes or anything else that I buy along the way,” he said.
Cathy carefully thought over everything he had said. The strange feeling of distance, as though she was watching and listening to someone else, still had her in its grip. From her perspective, it was a distinct advantage that he traveled extensively and that his profession was far removed from her own in academia. There was less chance of there being mutual acquaintances between them. She would have died even to have had any of her friends or colleagues eavesdrop on this conversation, let alone have them become aware of any such liaison.
The arrangement as Michael outlined it did not sound particularly demanding, which was also an advantage. It was more fluid than a part-time second job, which was an unpleasant option that she had reluctantly accepted to be necessary. That was the only reason that she was even entertaining the idea.
However logically she examined his proposal, though, did not explain how she had come to be there, seated across from this man, calmly listening to him as he laid out his expectations. At the back of her mind, behind the wall of impersonality, Cathy toyed with the suspicion that she was suffering from a brain fever.
There was still the question of how things were supposed to work. “These assignations…They would happen at your place?”
He smiled. There was a watchful expression in his curiously pale blue eyes. “My home, yes.”
“W–would—” Realizing she was stammering, Cathy stopped to steady herself with a deep breath. “Would you want me, or–or whomever, to socialize with your friends or coworkers?”
His smile faded into a slight frown as his dark brows drew together. “No. This would be strictly between us. We would take in some shows and go out to dinner, maybe attend a few concerts. But it would never be a group thing. You wouldn’t meet my friends. I don’t want to meet your friends. Discretion is a must for me.”
Cathy gave a jerky nod. “Okay. That part is good.”
He looked across the table at her, examining her. She fidgeted under his unwavering gaze. “You are nervous.”
Cathy was surprised into a hoarse, short laugh. “I’ve never done anything like this. I’ve never thought about doing anything like this!”
He didn’t reply at once but merely looked at her again. Abruptly, he asked, “Are you attached?”
She stared at him, at a loss. It took a moment before understanding came to her. “Oh, you mean… No, I’m divorced. Six years ago.”
He nodded. “That’s a plus. I don’t think an arrangement like this would work out long-term if you’re in a relationship.”
He didn’t say so, but she assumed from what he had said that he wasn’t in a relationship either. Cathy felt obscurely relieved. She didn’t like the idea of being with a married man.