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or choked on a piece of the exceptional Kobe beef he imported from Japan. No one ever bothered him while inside his apartment, fearful they’d catch him naked, except for garter belt and hose, in the middle of a bondage routine with his favorite dominatrix. Why, it might be days before they found him. The depressing thought gave him the creeps. The idea of bondage in a garter belt gave him an erection.
    Benny shed his jacket in the apartment and walked halfway down the hall to an elegantly appointed office where Colin Harwood, webmaster extraordinaire, computer guru, and all-round right-hand man controlled the operation.
    “Got a few reservations tonight,” Colin said in his distinctive Cockney accent. He was strictly business, with no interest in the women he bartered. No interest in women, period. At least Benny didn’t have to worry about employee competition.
    “Angie’s hostess this evening,” Colin said. “Also, I have two girls booked for the holidays. One with that Italian racecar driver from Milan, the other with Sergei Rogoff’s son. She’s his twenty-first birthday present.”
    “Nice daddy. He can afford it.” Benny craned to peek over Colin’s shoulder at the schedule on the computer monitor. “Fat man tonight, I see.”
    “Yeah, Martell wants a twosome. Melody’s his regular, but I called Cindi to pair with her. The guy’s a city block. I feel sorry for both of them.”
    “Cindi should get double the money for him,” Benny said. “It’s not every day you get to bag a four-hundred-fifty pounder.”
    “She’s not moose hunting, Benny. You don’t bag someone like Rick Martell. You feed him a quadruple cheeseburger, a supersize order of fries, and a chocolate shake. Besides, Melody’s not complaining about the pay. Most women don’t make that in a month.”
    “Try three.” Benny patted his tech’s shoulder. “Have you checked to make sure the bar on four is stocked for Friday’s get together?”
    Benny did everything right at Upper Eighties. He supplied the alcohol because he didn’t want the scrutiny attached to a liquor license. All his ladies were over twenty-one—he insisted—and except for one time, so were his patrons. The exception came with an enormous fee to break the cherry of the son of an old friend, head honcho at a major financial institution. The boy was a child of fifteen the day he met Lily, a man of sixteen the day after. Benny heard the kid’s skin cleared up within a week. Daddy became a regular.
    “Took care of that after last week’s party,” Colin said. “Wanted to make sure I ordered only what we needed.”
     “I like doing business with you, Colin. All you care about is money. Making it and saving it.”
    “Is there anything else?”
    Benny smiled. “Of course. We both have our needs, don’t we?”
    “Different though they are.”
    Years back, Benny wanted to see what it was like to make it with a guy. His one and only, an eager-beaver Wall Streeter angling to move up, thought blowing Benny was his ticket. But peering down at a thinning comb-over and hairy shoulders while being inadequately deep-throated caused instant dick deflation. Pffft! Just like that. He gave himself credit for being adventurous, but experimentation from that point on consisted of women in all their naked, ebullient glory. And he had the money and venue to make that happen.
    Benny caught Colin’s wink as he left the office. The little man was a genius, even if his sexual persuasion was the flipside of his own. Still, Benny never judged. Like his dear, newly-departed mother used to say: ‘To each his own, said the man as he kissed the cow.’ Different strokes for different folks. Whatever floats your boat. Yada, yada. Role-playing, bondage, multiple partners, gay, or straight. Everything was on the table as long as it suited both partners or all parties, depending.
    Those kinky thoughts made him think of Eileen. Why, if he had steak at home did he seek chicken and pork