Aiden Dennison was a stockbroker by day. He was good at what he did because he listened. Every detail, every hushed conversation, every memo transcribed in the fabric of his mind as if one day if would pay off for him ten-fold. And he was right. He heard the stories from the men around him about their bitter, old, prudish wives who would rather shop in Hollywood than have sex with their husbands. They talked about turning to strip clubs and eventually prostitutes, but the risk was great and the result wasn’t always satisfying. These men needed a private network. Aiden made that happen.

It’s hard to say how he found them, but eventually he did. The women that came to fill the rooms of the Dennison House were the best of the best. All beautiful, all talented, all desiring the money that quickly came pouring in. And everyone knew it would.

It took me almost a year in the business to get that call from Aiden, but once I did I knew I had made it. He asked me to move in and of course, I hesitated. I couldn’t let him think I was too easy or just a dumb girl with a pretty face. It was important that the women of the Dennison House were intelligent as well. Dumb girls aren’t often discrete. And trust me, they’re everywhere. No one comes to the Dennison House looking for a dumb girl they could find at any bar in any town of this great country of ours. No, of course not. Because not only do dumb girls eventually squeal, they fall in love.

Remaining polite but ultimately unattainable is key.

Don’t get me wrong. You occasionally find yourself warming up to a client, but that’s when a smart girl knows to remind herself of the reality of her situation. A teacher isn’t supposed to fall in love with her students. A plumber tends to his own pipes. A maid doesn’t confess her feelings to the broom. Why should my job be any different?

I waited in the driveway of the Dennison House in the back of Aiden’s limo. The driver had picked me up from my old apartment right on time, seemed to know exactly where he was going, but wasn’t the best conversationalist. I assumed that the less he spoke, the less he had to explain to Aiden later. Perhaps it would be wise to adopt his philosophy.

Finally Aiden opened the door. Surprisingly casual, he motioned for me to scoot over and immediately took my hand.

“We’re so glad to have you here, Spencer.”

“I’m glad to be here, Mr. Dennison.”

“Oh, come on. You can call me Aiden.”

“Ok, then. I’m glad to be here, Aiden.”

“Good, good. Well perhaps I should tell you what you’re getting yourself into here, huh?”

“I’m actually quite familiar…”

“No, I mean the others. The other women in the house.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Ashley, Kyla, and Madison.”

“Just three?” I ask, surprised.

“Only the best.”

“Hmm…”

“Ashley and Kyla are sisters, actually. I guess you can imagine there’s quite the rivalry.”

“Of course.”

“But between you and me, Ashley’s the best. She can easily make fifteen thousand a week.”

“Really?”

“Easily.”

It was going to be to my advantage to know as much about her as I possibly could. She was the competition, and Spencer Carlin doesn’t do competition.

“Well, good for her,” I said with a tight smile.

“Jealous?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never been jealous before so I’m not sure what that feels like.”

Aiden smiled, “Well, then there won’t be an issue, I suppose.”

“Absolutely not.”

He nodded and opened the door, gesturing for me to follow him. I got my first clear view of the house, which was colonial and enormous. Four women could easily occupy it without any problem. I wasn’t quite sure yet whether it could accommodate all of their egos as well.

Before Aiden could slip the key in the lock, the door swung wide open and there stood the breathtaking competition. There would definitely be an issue.