Lotto Dreams:  Part I

Social Growth


Chapter 1


Nick sat back and contemplated the changes in his life. He was 46 years 
old, and was three weeks short of an anniversary. Almost a year ago, 
he'd been working in a small grocery just west of Salt Lake City. The 
pay hadn't been bad, but then, he'd been with this family business for 
twenty-five years. But there was no hope of advancement, just another 
thirty years of boredom and idiots to look forward to.

Then his life changed, with a huge Powerball payout. Everyone told him 
"Take the lump sum, man! Think of all you can do with it!"

But he'd often dreamed about what he'd do if the Goddess smiled on him 
that way, and a lump payment wasn't in his plans. He didn't plan to take 
the money and screw up his life. With yearly payments, if he fucked up, 
the next year he would straighten it out. Nope, for the next 30 years, 
his finances were secure. Even at his greediest, he didn't think he 
could spend $2,000,000 (post-IRS) in a year more than once or twice. 
He'd even given his employer thirty days notice. Those had been a 
loonngg thirty days!

This last year, he did come close to spending it all. First, he'd taken 
over his family's mortgages, one on his parent's condo, another one in 
the same area for his younger sister, then the houses of his older 
sister and his younger brother.  

For himself, he'd signed a one-year lease on a nice 4-bedroom place, 
with an option to buy at the end of the lease. Because he didn't know 
where he really wanted to make his home yet, the lease was a good 
choice. He knew he wanted big water, and a small yacht, or a nice 
fishing boat, something ocean-worthy, but that one man could handle 
without too much difficulty. Maybe Washington, Oregon, maybe Northern 
Cali. Or maybe New England. Hell, maybe Hawaii! 

 Next came seven new cars, two SUVs, and a pickup truck. His family was 
definitely sharing his good fortune. After that, he'd taken some time to 
travel. New York, Pennsylvania, Virginia. Met good friends he knew only 
from the Internet. Spent days with two of them, and learned cyber- and 
phone- sex had just whetted their appetites. Then Washington and 
California, meeting more friends. Down to Texas, enjoying the company of 
the Grove, and spending some time in touch with the Goddess.

He loved to fly. It occurred to him on the way home from Texas, as he 
watched a flight attendant try to deal with more stupid people, he had 
the money to actually do something more than sit and watch. He'd learn 
to fly, maybe get his brother Carl and his nephew Luke to learn too. He 
was sure there would be times a co-pilot would be needed, why not 
someone he liked a lot?

But now, he needed to do something about his social skills. True, he'd 
seduced two women he'd never physically met before, but he'd been 
interacting virtually for a year with Dani, and probably seven years 
with Lily. They couldn't be considered new acquaintances. He needed help 
with face-to-face social events. Ok, he admitted to himself, he needed 
help with dating. 

He'd never considered himself to be good looking, although once in a 
while he could see a trace of something a woman might find attractive. 
Usually if he took off his glasses and stepped back from the mirror 
enough that his face was blurred. He was 5' 9", and 272 pounds. His hair 
was a medium brown, with a good scattering of gray, especially around 
the temples. But it was nice and full, and the gray, hell, he figured 
he'd earned it all.

Then another thought struck him, something he'd read in a Yahoo forum a 
few years ago. Someone had been discussing the advantages of escorts 
over prostitutes, if he remembered right. Something about escorts in the 
role of teacher, not necessarily in sex, but in social interaction. 
True, the point of the discussion had been about young men, just 
beginning adulthood. But it might work for an old dude. Maybe someone to 
take to the Symphony, the ballet, charity fundraisers. Maybe someone to 
teach him how NOT to dance like a spastic elephant. He laughed at 
himself, 'Yeah, like that was possible'. 

He thought some more, then called his bank to double check his balances. 
Next deposit was scheduled for twenty-one days from now. One of the 
first things he'd done, before even flying to Boise to collect his 
winnings, was open two more checking accounts. The first one was for 
expenses, such as home purchases and rent, and new car purchases. The 
second was for charity. He'd decided that after family was taken care 
of, he'd help others who needed it. But he only gave to recognized, 
organized charities. Oh, and he contributed to the Democrats. 

He laughed to himself when he remembered, less than a week after turning 
in the winning ticket, the Bishop and Stake President of the area he 
lived in had shown up at his door, encouraging him to do the 'right 
thing' and pay his full tithe. Nick had tried to be polite, but it was 
hard, and he'd asked why he should begin such a practice when he hadn't 
been to church in 29 years? Nah, he figured the LDS church had plenty of 
available cash. He did contribute heavily to Catholic charities, though. 
Maybe he was being spiteful? He didn't care.

The third account was his 'Do as I will' account. He'd decided to budget 
himself $10,000 a week. He bought food, toys (his new computer and home 
furnishings) and what he thought of as 'fun'; movies, music, books and 
travel. He'd also used the leftovers from each week's budget to purchase 
nearly $100,000 worth of stocks, bonds and mutual funds. Right now, the 
balance of the three accounts still totaled $158,000. More than enough 
to start a makeover.

He needed to get into shape. His old job had kept him moving probably 40 
of the 48 hours he was scheduled, and probably kept him from getting 
even bigger than he was. Time to join a gym, and maybe Weight-Watchers 
again. Then he looked in the newspaper classifieds. Yup, under 
"Entertainment", escort services competed with phone-sex lines and 
exotic dancers. 

He made a few phone calls and sat back with a sigh, dissatisfied. That 
was a bust. All they had really offered were prostitutes. He already had 
two very nice young women that he visited regularly, and he'd been 
flying to one of the Nevada brothels every couple of months. No, sex 
wasn't what he was looking for in this case. Then he thought about it 
some more. Did he know anyone who might have used such a service? Nope. 
Hmm, maybe Carl would. His brother Carl was a mortgage banker, and his 
company did a fair amount of business with out of town clients. But did 
he want to involve his brother? He considered this for a moment. 

He was single, and didn't have to answer to anyone. His parents were 
cool, as were his siblings; and he wasn't going to go out of his way to 
embarrass them. He wasn't a public figure, per se, and didn't really 
give a damn about anyone's opinion besides his immediate family. He 
picked up the phone and called Carl's cell phone.

"Hey Carl, what's up?"

"Hey Nick, not much, Steve has a cold and is making Gina nuts. You know 
how she reacts to every whine and whimper."

Gina was Carl's significant other, and Steven was their four-year-old 
son. Nick adored both of them.  "Carl, got a weird question for you. Do 
you know anything about Escort services? Not prostitutes or dancers or 
whatever, but that actually provide women to attend social occasions?"

A short silence followed the question, and Nick thought he might have 
offended his brother.

"Umm, sorry, you're right, definitely a weird question. Ok, can I ask 
you some questions, without twisting your shorts? I assume you want 
someone attractive, but probably fairly sharp and well read. No 
bubbleheads, right?"

"You said you weren't looking for prostitutes, but I suspect you'd be 
willing to 'negotiate' for special services, if she appealed strongly to 
you. I mean, if you just wanted to get laid, I know you, you'd have 
asked me for that. Never mind, I've noticed your little trips to Vegas. 
Nuff said." 

"No comment," Nick answered, but Carl heard amused confirmation in his 
older brother's tone.

"Alright, tell me what you are looking for: Companionship, obviously. 
What else?"

"I want someone to increase my social skills. Teach me to dance, what to 
wear. You've seen my wardrobe; tee shirts and jeans, with a pair of 
sneakers. Some one that I could date, you know, 'Dinner and a movie', 
the Symphony, a concert, hell, maybe the ballet. Someone to take me 
clubbing, after she teaches me to dance. She'd have to have an eclectic 
taste in music, though. You know my radio's always set on 107.5. I like 
classical though too. Hell, I like trance and electronica! With the 
right girl, I'd even try line-dancing. Oh, and she can't be a vegetarian 
or major health-food freak. I'll be damned if I can't spend my money on 
good food. Hmm, maybe she could teach me to be a better cook, too. Oh, 
and moderate to liberal in politics," remembering the invitation he'd 
received to a Democratic fund-raiser coming up in about six weeks.

Carl's laughter filled the phone. "Ok, does this have to be all rolled 
into one girl?"

Nick thought about that. "Actually, no. I don't mind having a dozen 
women seeking my company." Carl laughed out loud at that. "Have some 
thoughts?" 

"A couple, actually. Let me make some calls. Oh, when's the next flight 
class?" 

"Saturday at 11:30. I'll pick you and Luke up in the morning. You know, 
the more research I do though, the more I think we should take the jet 
course too. Some of the older jets are cheaper than a big turbo-prop."

"Well, if you didn't want to seat twenty people..." Carl chuckled.

"Yeah, and who do I leave home? Gina and Luke's girlfriend? Yeah, that 
would make me damn popular!" The fact was, even without Luke and his 
sister Sarah's dates, there were still ten  bodies in his immediate 
family. And he kind of liked the thought of flying everyone to new and 
different places.

"Yeah, yeah, you just know if you don't terrorize us all together, 
you'll never get the next victims. Anyway, I'll check on this, ask 
around, and let you know as soon as I can. See you Saturday!"

"Ciao bro, kiss Gina and Steve for me!"



Friday morning, he went down to the garage and climbed into his dark 
green 2004 Jaguar. It was one of the most expensive car he'd ever owned, 
and was more fun to drive than any of the cars he'd test-driven, with 
the exception of the Audi convertible parked beside it.  If the weather 
had cooperated, though, he'd have taken the Audi.

He popped his iPod into the deck and drove downtown to the appointment 
his brother had arranged. As he pulled up to the entryway of the Hilton, 
a valet dashed up to open the door. Collecting the player, he told the 
young man, "I'll only be a couple of hours. Don't go too far with it." 
He laughed at the man's expression. Here was a brand new, $60,000 car, 
being driven by a guy in worn jeans, a sloppy tee, and sneakers that 
were hardly new.

He took the elevator to the 8th floor, and knocked on the door to the 
room Carl had given him. 

Another young man opened the door. "Are you a policeman, or a member of 
any law enforcement agency?" he asked immediately. Nick shook his head 
no. "May I see your ID, please?" Nick opened his wallet and pulled out 
his driver's license and state ID card. The young man studied them for a 
moment, then handed them back. "Thank you, sir." He held his hand low, 
and Nick slid a standard sized envelope into it. "Please come in."

As Nick stepped in, the young man stepped out and shut the door behind 
him.  Nick looked around the nicely appointed suite, noting the closed 
door to his left. Within a minute of the door to the suite closing, he 
heard a phone ring behind the closed door, and not 20 seconds later the 
door opened. He was actually glad of their caution. It reassured him 
that he was dealing with intelligent folk. But the woman that stepped 
through the door took him by surprise.

She was about his age, mid 40's. She moved with grace and poise, her 
shoulder length red hair framing a very fine face. Her eyes were a green 
that he almost suspected were contacts, if the scattering of freckles 
across her cheeks hadn't indicated her hair color was probably natural. 
She was also quite short. The top of her head barely reached the bottom 
of his sternum when she stopped before him and offered her hand. "How do 
you do, Nick. I'm Cyan"

Nick took the proffered hand and bowed slightly to this enchanting 
creature. "Charmed, Cyan. Shall we sit?"

Cyan gave a delightful smile and bounced easily onto the couch like a 
little girl, then turned to face him when he sat, as she'd indicated, at 
the other end. She wore a loose ankle length skirt of brilliant blue, 
and a simple white blouse, and sat with one ankle tucked underneath her.  

"You know, you aren't like most of my clients," she began. "Usually, 
when someone contacts me, they have a simple request. A certain type of 
woman, for a specific purpose. Fairly straightforward.  And I don't 
think I've ever had as many pre-contacts before I spoke to the client. 
But with you, I heard from a very good client, asking if I was 
interested in what might be a major project. I was intrigued, especially 
when he couldn't offer more details, but was very firm in his assertion 
it wasn't some game. Then another client, asking if I was willing to 
speak with a friend about this same project."  

"Then your brother Carl. I think it shocked him to his toes to find out 
whom he was speaking to. We've known each other for years; he's helped 
me purchase three homes so far.  He told me about you and your, shall we 
say, 'windfall'. I'm going to assume you're serious; I know you can get 
laid for a lot less than you'll pay my ladies. Normally our fee begins 
at three hundred dollars an hour, but I see a great deal of potential, 
so the fee will be semi-negotiable. You'll pre-pay a rate of 200 hundred 
dollars per hour, with payment based on the expected length of the 
occasion. The ladies will bill you with a discreet note for additional 
amounts, depending on their requirements and choice. Agreed?"

Nick thought about it. It wasn't what he'd expected, but then he hadn't 
been sure what to expect, either. "I agree, Cyan."

"Good!" She hopped off the couch and took his hand, pulling to his feet. 
"One of the reasons I chose to meet here is that we are within walking 
distance of some very good clothing stores. I'm going to be your 
fashionista." She grinned and looked him up and down. "You do need some 
serious help!" With that, she put his arm around her shoulder and led 
him on the 'Quest to Make Nick Fashionable!'

Personally, Nick was surprised at how much fashion sense he actually 
possessed. Cyan would take him into a store, where heads would turn to 
look at the mismatched pair, the very short, sleek redhead and the 
taller, much heavier man. Then she'd tell him to go pick out a half-
dozen outfits. "Don't worry about size. I know people who can make 
anything that you like, look good on you. We're looking for your 
personal taste here, what you think looks good."

When they'd finished in the sixth store, she told him, "Ok, I can see 
some of your previous problem. Your choices are good. But without some 
adjustments, most of them wouldn't work for you. But that's easy to work 
out. Carl tells me you're looking for a health club to join. Is that 
right?"

He nodded, and told her of his wandering from gym to spa, and 
frustration that the people he'd spoken to had presented a façade of 
support that he suspected would disappear as soon as he signed a 
contract. 

"You're mostly right. So here, go to this club," she handed him a card 
for one of the health clubs he'd visited, with a woman's name and a 
photo of an attractive brunette with her hair in a functional ponytail. 
"Tell Connie Cyan sent you. She'll help you put together a real program 
to get in shape, and be there to encourage you. She's not one to abandon 
someone willing to work. She'll also be your companion occasionally, if 
you continue to use our service."

"Now, lets go get you groomed. You'll be amazed what the right haircut 
will do for you." She turned him to study his face, then reached up and 
lightly squeezed his left ear lobe, feeling the scar inside it. "I 
thought I saw a pierce mark there. Do you have a problem re-doing it?"

"Not at all. I did it the first time while I was in New Orleans, sort of 
a memorial for a great time. I wasn't ready for a tattoo, and didn't 
have the time for the ones I think about.

"Ok. I'll go pick out something for your ear. Do you prefer gemstones or 
dangles?"

Nick grinned. "Find me a nice dark red ruby. Maybe it's time to 
resurrect my inner vampire."

Cyan looked at him curiously, then nodded. "Any plans for tonight?" 

"No. Probably curl up with a good book."

"Come back to the hotel tonight before 10. I'll have something ready for 
you to wear. Bring eight hundred for your escort, and plan to spend the 
night wandering clubs, so bring another hundred or so for drinks and 
cover charges. Lydia will make you dance, so be ready. But I promise, 
you will have a good time, even if you don't drink."

Nick looked at her in surprise. "Carl told me, when I was asking him 
about your likes and dislikes. One of the reasons I didn't offer you a 
drink back in the room, I didn't have any bottled water or soda. And 
Lydia doesn't smoke either, so she'll be avoiding the clubs that tend to 
get smoky. You'll have fun!"

He'd nodded, a bit surprised. And was very surprised again when he 
looked in the mirror at his new simple, no maintenance cut. 'OK, Cyan 
was right, this does look good.'

"Hold still a sec," He was surprised when Cyan took his ear in her 
hands. "Let's see if I can get this in without hurting you, or if we'll 
need to go get you re-pierced."

His ear stung for a moment, then he felt her twisting the back onto the 
stud she'd installed. "Perfect," she said with satisfaction. It did look 
good; the stone was almost blood red, about a half carat in size.

They walked back to the Hilton, and she squeezed his hand. "Now, go 
home, get a nap, and have a high protein dinner. You're gonna get some 
exercise tonight!" 

The same valet brought around the Jag. "A little more than two hours," 
he laughed as he took the tip Nick gave him. Nick glanced down at the 
dashboard clock, and realized he'd been with Cyan nearly five hours. 
'Hope she doesn't charge a bonus rate for extended hours.' Then he 
realized he held a piece of paper. It was a bill for an additional 300, 
written on the back of the receipt for the stud, and asking him to 
include it with Lydia's fee. Honestly, he'd be more than happy to pay 
it.