Matchmaker
The day was as beautiful as it ever was in Eastgate. The streets were lined with run-down or old houses, several abandoned, and several condemned as Megan and her best friend Olivia walked home down 7th street. The sun was shining high in the sky, making the temperatures soar into the three digits once again. It was definitely hot.
Eastgate wasn't the best town to live in. The streets were dirty, liter was everywhere, junkies and drunks were everywhere, living in the streets. But it was their town. It was a poor suburb of Richland, which the residents could just see in the distance, the tall buildings, businesses and residences, reaching upwards towards the clouds.
The two had just spent the last few hours at the neighborhood swimming pool. On a day like this, it was always crowded, but they weren't there for the swimming. They were there for the boys.
Megan giggled. "God, I know," she said, commenting on what Olivia said about Matt, her crush. "It was like he wanted us to see how big he was."
"I think I saw the head peek out of the top of his trunks," Olivia giggled.
"And you couldn't help yourself," Megan giggled, bumping her shoulder into her friend.
"You know it," Olivia giggled again. "It was bigger than I remembered it."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I almost couldn't deep throat it this time."
"Almost?"
"Well... I did it before, I certainly wasn't going to fail this time."
They continued down the road, walking the ten blocks between the pool and Megan's house, talking about all the boys they hooked up with in only those few hours. Neither one could go all the way in such crowded confines, but both were successful at giving and receiving some inappropriate touching in the water and then quick blowjobs in the bathroom to a couple of the boys.
"Woah," Olivia said, suddenly putting her hand on Megan's shoulder and pointing towards her house. "Who's that?"
Megan was shocked as she looked down the street. First of all, her father's old, run-down car was parked in the driveway, meaning he was home from work two hours early. Being divorced and partly disabled from a work accident they needed him to work every hour just to pay the bills. This was going to really hurt them.
But then she saw the limo. The shining, black car was sitting in the street in front of her house. She had no idea who that could be. It was certainly no one she would know. No one she knew could even afford to rent a limo.
"I don't know."
They kept an eye on the car and house as they approached and Megan could see the head of a driver through the rear window. The car was running, likely with the air conditioner on full, a luxury in itself in this day and age, and the driver was sitting in the car, as if waiting patiently for someone.
"I'll see you later," Megan said and turned to walk down her driveway. Olivia continued her walk down one more block to her house.
"Yeah... laters."
Megan went in the front door and was surprised to see her father sitting on the couch while an older, well-dressed gentleman was sitting on the recliner nearby.
"Oh, here she is now," her father said, standing, his hands shaking nervously.
Megan could tell this must be a very important man for her father to be acting this way. But she had no idea who it could be. She felt a little self-conscious being dressed the way she was.
Her father hugged her, which was odd in itself, and she kissed him on the cheek. "Father, what's going on?" she asked him.
Her father broke his hug and, with his hand on her back, led her over to the well-dressed man, who had stood. They crossed in front of a fan that turned to and fro, pushing the hot air around to make the room feel less hot.
"Mr. Applegate, may I introduce you to my daughter, Megan. Megan, this is Mr. Applegate. He's here from the city... to, uh... to see... you." Even her father seemed surprised that this man came to see his daughter.
"Miss Reardon," the older man said, smiling at her. Megan extended her hand and he took it, shaking it softly.
"Nice to meet you," she said.
"Please, please, have a seat," he said, pointing to the couch. She sat on the edge, still unsure of what was happening.
Mr. Applegate sat back down in his chair, looking at her as if appraising her. She felt a little uncomfortable in what she was wearing. It seemed very out of place at the moment. He was dressed in a white, silk shirt, and grey tie, with grey dress slacks, an outfit that probably cost near a thousand dollars itself, while she was dressed in her too-small bikini, and a pair of short jean shorts that were unbuttoned and slightly unzipped, showing the front of her red bikini bottoms.
Megan's dad sat down next to her, but the man quickly looked at him. "Is it possible that I could interview her alone... privately?"
"Oh... yeah," her dad said, standing, very uncertain. He looked around, wondering where to go.
"Why don't you go to my limousine, enjoy a drink and the air conditioning. I'll come and get you when we're done."
Megan's dad nodded and quickly left the house towards the car. Megan could imagine that he was anxious enough for the air conditioning than anything else. It'd been a long time since either had had that luxury.
"So... um... what can I do for you?" Megan asked. She looked down at her body, again feeling self-conscious on how little she was wearing in front of this obviously powerful man. "Sorry, I would have gone and changed had I known someone was coming over. I was just at the..."
"Miss Reardon, for the past thirty years or so I've been contracted as a professional matchmaker," Mr. Applegate said, interrupting her. "Do you know what that is?" His tone was condescending, as if being poor made her stupid as well.
"No... I, uh, don't believe I've heard of that."
"A matchmaker is one who helps a man, or woman, find their ideal spouse."
She was shocked. Was her dad trying to get her married? Did he hire this guy?
"Oh... um... why would someone hire a... matchmaker?" she asked. "Can't they just, you know, go on dates like everyone else?"
"Well... some, due to their position in society, are not comfortable going out in public on casual dates," he said. "Some find it difficult to find the time and believe this is an easier solution. It is a time-honored profession."
"Ok... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend..."
"As I was just telling your father," Mr. Applegate said, interrupting her again, "a very wealthy family from the city has asked me to find their son a wife."
