That evening John called, but I was already out for the night.
He left a message on the answering machine. “Oh, I like your greeting, Sweetcheeks—”
You’ve got me. Now tell me what you want to do with me. I shrugged. It was the best I could come up with, and I’d never bothered to change it.
“—and on Wednesday…” He cleared his throat. “We’ll talk about what I want to do with you on Wednesday. I just wanted you to know you were right to question this company. They’ll want to use the apartments as an incentive/reward kind of thing for their executives—they do well and they get a trip to DC, complete with hot and cold running girls. This is a very broad-minded company. They’re even willing to offer boys to the men who want them. Let me know who your lawyer is, and we’ll get together to hash this out.”
We all met in the downstairs apartment. Sherwood, Inc. was actually a blue chip corporation, and they preferred to keep the transaction quiet, which was okay by us.