"A vibrator," I say. "Small. Nothing intimidating. High quality. Whisper-quiet motor. Something that looks elegant, not clinical."
"Color preference?"
"Something soft. Rose gold, maybe. Or champagne. Not red, nothing aggressive."
"Understood. What else?"
"Massage oil. High-end. Unscented—she might be sensitive to fragrances. Natural ingredients."
"Noted."
"Silk restraints. Soft. Beautiful. Nothing that looks like bondage gear. I want them to feel luxurious, not threatening."
I can hear her typing. "Anything else?"
"Books. On female sexuality. Female pleasure. Written for women, by women. Educational but accessible. Nothing too clinical. Nothing that assumes prior knowledge."
"I have several excellent recommendations in that category."
"Include them all. And—" I pause. "Lingerie. But not the typical male fantasy stuff. Comfortable. Soft. The kind of thing that makes a woman feel beautiful, not objectified. Her measurements are?—"
I give her Eden's size from the file.
"Excellent taste, Mr. Sutherland. Anything else?"
I think for a moment. "Candles. Unscented or very subtle scent. Something that creates ambiance without being overwhelming. And chocolate. High-end. Dark chocolate, nothing too sweet."
"Creating a mood?"
"Creating trust."
"Understood. Total will be approximately twelve thousand dollars, including rush delivery. Wire transfer acceptable?"
"Yes. Send the details."
"You'll have everything by eight a.m. tomorrow. Will that work?"
"Perfect."
I hang up.
Twelve thousand dollars on items I might never use.
Items Eden might throw in my face if I try to give them to her.
But I have to try.
Have to show her that I see her as more than property. More than a purchase.
That I want her to feel good. Want her to discover her own body on her own terms.
Even if those terms eventually include me.
I check my watch. Four-thirty in the afternoon.
Eden will be in the library.
She goes there every afternoon around three and stays until dinner.
