Marketplace Read Online Free PDF

go, just enough time to
take a peek. She picked it up and opened it to find only one sheet
of paper inside. It had her name at the top, and absolutely nothing
written on it anywhere else.
    Damn! She carefully put it
back. Where was the letter she sent? Where were the pictures? How
long was this guy going to make her wait?
    Pacing filled out the rest
of the ten minutes before she considered the effect all that
walking would have on her hair. She touched it up neatly and had
the brush back in her purse before she realized that ten minutes
were up. Now he was late! And her legs were starting to hurt. It
was almost a two-hour ride in the car, and she was tired and
stiff.
    Minutes dragged
by.
    Is he going to make me wait
an hour? That horrified thought came to her about the tenth time
she checked her watch. Standing up? She walked to the door and
reached for the door handle. Enough was enough. But as soon as her
hand touched it, it turned by itself. Sharon shrieked and leapt
back from it.
    “Jesus! You scared me!” she
cried. Expecting to see the little guy again, she found that she
had to look up. The man standing in the doorway was taller and
broader, his shoulders at the height of her nose. He was casually
dressed, in jeans and a button-down shirt. His hair was black and
longish, his beard a close-cropped mass of black salted with
silver.
    Oh shit. He fit the
description she had been given. She composed her features at once
and knelt gracefully, the skirt swirling around her legs in an
elegant way. She had practiced this move hundreds of times, and
knew that it was beautiful. She bowed her head slowly. Don’t speak
until spoken to, she reminded herself.
    Grendel looked down and
then walked past her. “I’m glad to see that you aren’t injured, Ms.
Brosa.” He sat down behind the desk, the leather chair
creaking.
    Sharon raised her head a
little. He had just walked by, without noticing what she did! She
turned her head, but the angle was wrong, she couldn’t see him. Now
what? What should she do?
    “Why don’t you take a
seat?” The suggestion was slowly and firmly made, in a way that
suggested that she was a child. Biting her lip, she rose with the
same grace she used in kneeling and then took one of the chairs
facing the desk.
    Grendel opened a drawer and
brought out the real file on her and laid it out on the desk. When
no apology seemed forthcoming, he began to lay out the pages,
putting the photographs to one side. Now that she was here, he
realized that they didn’t do her justice.
    Oh, they were well done, a
class act. The photographer had known what he was working with and
had done very little to distract from her natural beauty. But in
the flesh, she was absolutely stunning. From the gentle waves of
her deep auburn hair to the curves of her toned body and her lovely
legs, she was quite a prize. Her eyes, under thick lashes, were
hazel.
    “When you failed to appear,
Alexandra and I thought that there might have been an accident,”
Grendel prompted.
    Sharon smiled in thanks.
“Oh, I’m OK. The driver was totally lost, though. I’m really sorry
you had to wait.”
    She doesn’t get it, Grendel
realized. He sighed and referred to the papers before him. “I see
you’ve never had any formal training,” he began. And stopped when
she frowned. “Yes?”
    “Yes, I did,” she said,
leaning over the desk. “With Jerry! And Frank. I know I put that in
there. Do you need another copy?”
    “No. Your experiences with
your lovers don’t count, Ms. Brosa. When we refer to formal
training, we are talking about a more intense and structured form
of living. What you did with those two men was more of a negotiated
fantasy relationship between partners who were on an equal
footing.” Grendel tapped the sheets of paper. “These kinds of
experiences are fun, but they aren’t what the Marketplace is about.
And if you had approached us in the proper way, I wouldn’t have to
explain that to you.”
    “Well, I