Occupational Hazzards
CHAPTER NINETEEN
During the course of the consumption of two,
twelve-cup pots of Colombian coffee--enhanced with a
variety of liqueurs--we covered the gamut of things on
our mutual minds. As dawn commenced around 0600, we
were to the topic that really bothered us the most:
what the future held for us in the Cooper
Organization.
I pretty much bared my soul to Dana. I confessed by
personal turmoil over being the Organization's Pain
Boss. I understood that our clients enjoyed being the
recipients of the application of pain. However, I
really had a problem thinking that providing sexual
gratification to these people was now my life's
calling. I'd rationalized that a masseuse provided
people physical pleasure; unfortunately, a prostitute
did the same thing. But that's legal in Nevada and
many other parts of the world. It's that Puritan ethic
underlying our American upbringing, I told myself,
that causes this consternation. It'd be a different
case if it was between just my lover and me; the old
"between consenting adults" thing. Of course, what I
did was between consenting adults; or was it? I seemed
to be the only one not totally consenting and I was
the one laying on the lash!
Dana listened and interjected when she could. I
finally yielded the floor to her and got a different
story. She loved being a part of the Cooper
Organization. In spite of her recent physical
admonishment, Cooper had provided her opportunities
and financial rewards far beyond what she could have
expected in the normal business world. She didn't
think of her job as primarily catering to sexual
peculiarities. She oversaw a customer-service
organization that provided unique services safely and
discreetly. These services were ordered by a
respectable customer base and were unobtainable
elsewhere. She too had difficulties adjusting to the
perceived "dark" side of our job. However, she
explained, it was our sense of compassion and morality
that made us so good at our jobs. Cooper could hire
any thug to wok it's members over. However, our sense
of right and wrong kept us from permanently hurting
people and running our organization professionally.
Dana made sense. By 0700, we were out of words and
sipped bloody Marys as the sun streamed in her kitchen
window.
Let's go to bed," Dana said.
"Are you kidding?" I exclaimed. "With all this coffee
and booze--how can you sleep?"
Dana smiled, "Didn't want to sleep...".
On to Chapter 20
