Lewd Behavior

by Samson Weld

  “Poutine,” Nick provided, referring to the local fast food delicacy of French fries covered with gravy and cheese curds.

  “Poutine, right. I should be doing all these things.”

  “But?”

  “But knowing myself I’ll spend the evening in my room watching CSI reruns. I have a weak heart, that’s all the excitement I can allow myself.”

  Smiling, Nick nodded and slipped into a sports jacket. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  He tapped his friend on the shoulder and they both left the room.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Although Nick hadn’t known he’d be having dinner with his company’s legal counsel on a Friday night, he had nevertheless made a reservation at Moishes several weeks back in anticipation of his trip to the city. Of all the places he had visited, it was probably his favorite steakhouse in the world. And he wasn’t the only one to think so.

  “Damn, son! This food makes my momma’s grits seem like a TV Dinner on a bad day. This is three shades of delicious.”

  Lars Moultrup was well into his fifties and proud of his Deep South drawl. In fact, he often exaggerated it during meetings in New York. Most people toned it down to blend in, but not him. It set him apart from everyone else in the vicinity. Not that he needed that to distinguish himself; his appearance usually did that for him. He dyed his hair jet black and left his thick goatee white as snow.

  “They do know how to cook it,” Nick said as he continued to eat his grilled shrimp appetizer.

  “They cooked this? I coulda sworn it came straight down from heaven and landed right onto my plate.”

  The older man hummed in appreciation as he greedily forked cream sauce-covered marinated herring into his mouth. Nick took a sip of Bordeaux as he worked up the nerve to bring up the reason he had brought him here.

  “Tell me Lars, what do you know about Canadian law?”

  “Except for some of the fine print, it’s a hell of a lot like ours.”

  “Okay.”

  Lars inspected the other man’s face and quickly realized there was something much more important at stake. He set his fork down, absentmindedly wiped his hands on his napkin, and swallowed.

  “Look Nick, this is mighty good food, I’ll grant you that, but to taste it I had to reschedule two meetings, buy my wife a consolation prize from Tiffany’s, dust off my passport, and fly to another country. I think now’s the time you tell me what the hell’s going on.”

  Nick nodded, took a deep breath, and dove in. “Some people go bowling or collect stamps for a hobby. I sleep with escorts. Been doing it for years.”

  The lawyer started to gasp and then he merely frowned. He leaned closer.

  “Hookers?”

  Nick nodded. “A crude way of putting it, but yes.”

  “Okay. So what’s going on? You got pinched?”

  “I was with a girl last night, horrible experience. You know how they say there’s no such thing as a bad blow job? She proved the theory wrong.”

  Lars grimaced although he couldn’t suppress a smile. “That’s gotta hurt.”

  Nick humored him with a smile of his own, but then paused. This was the moment of truth. He hadn’t told anyone yet how much trouble he was in. He felt protected by his secret and he knew he would feel vulnerable if he shared it.

  On the other hand, they said that a burden shared is a burden halved. Intellectually, he knew that talking about it would be helpful. And that’s why he had invited Lars’s here. He was an attorney, he would know how to help. Nevertheless, the moment he said anything there would be no going back.

  “Son, talk to me. I can’t do anything for you until you speak.”

  “I know,” Nick said taking another sip of wine.

  “The girl wasn’t underage, was she? You know that fifteen will get you twenty, as they say.”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “Then what is it, Nick?”

  The younger of the two took a deep breath, the shrimp all but forgotten. Nick wiped his hands on the tablecloth. It was time to man up and speak.

  “This morning a detective came to see me. He tells me they found the girl—the escort I met last night. They found her dead. Murdered.”

  There was only the briefest of pauses as Lars absorbed the news. “Tell me you didn’t say anything.”

  “The guy says I was her last client, the last person to see her alive.”

  “You didn’t kill her, did you?” the lawyer asked halfway between disbelief and accusation.

  “Are you insane? Of course, I didn’t. The problem is that they traced the time of death to when I was with her.”

  Lars frowned, trying to wrap his head around this. “How can that be?”

  “If I knew, I wouldn’t get eczema all over my ass, I can tell you that. I haven’t been charged yet, but the cop told me to stay in town for now.”

  “You do that. The two countries are pretty tight, legally speaking. If you go back to New York, you’ll get arrested there and you’ll get extradited back here. A jury will think you were trying to fly the coop.”

  “But I didn’t do anything, Lars!”

  Nick banged his fist on the table with frustration. He noticed a few patrons were looking at him and he straightened up to regain his composure. He drank some wine, already thinking about ordering another bottle.

  “Look, what if I hired a private investigator? You think he could clear my name?”

  “Not before you get arrested, he couldn’t. At the rate this is going, you’re gonna be charged real soon. My guess is Monday morning a judge is gonna be issuing a warrant.”

  “So what do I do?”

  “Play it by ear.”

  “Should I go to the consulate?” Nick asked, congratulating himself for thinking of this.

  “No, that’s a bad idea,” the attorney said as he returned to his food.

  “What are you talking about? Isn’t that their job at the consulate? They have to help Americans in other countries. I’m an American, I’m in another country, and God knows I need help right now.”

  “Two things are gonna happen if you hightail it to the consulate. One, you’re gonna put into motion a chain of events that the local cops will hear about. It’ll convince the homicide guys that you really do have something to hide.”

  “Christ,” Nick muttered under his breath. “And the second thing?”

  “As I said before, the two countries are tight and when it comes to murder they don’t play favorites. By going to the consulate, you’d basically be admitting to the State Department that you’re guilty as sin.”

  “But I’m not!”

  “It’s all about perception, son. What consulates are good for in matters like this is to connect you with a local lawyer, maybe a translator if you need it. It would be different if you were accused of murder in China or Iran. Then it would become political and the State Department could turn this into politics to help you out. But here in Canada? This ain’t politics. It’s a criminal matter.”

  “Jesus… So what you’re saying is that I’m proverbially in deep shit.”

  “No,” Lars said while shaking his head. “What I’m saying is that you’re proverbially fucked.”

  Nick stared at him and blinked his befuddlement. This might have been his favorite restaurant, but he was no longer hungry.

  Chapter 12

  Having invited Lars to Montreal hadn’t been the resounding success Nick had counted on.

  Objectively, he knew that at the moment there wasn’t much the lawyer could do for him, but he’d nevertheless been hoping for a miracle. He’d wished that Lars had an ace up his sleeve, some loophole he knew about that could have made the whole thing go away.

  But reality had intruded into his fantasy. There was no magic pill, no special loophole or Get Out Of Jail Free card. He just had to ride it out and see what happened next.

  It was right after nine when Nick left the restaurant. Lars was tired and had decided to turn in before flying back to
New York City—he’d almost flown back tonight actually, but opted against it at the last minute. For his part, Nick didn’t feel like going back to his hotel room since he was liable to run into Stanley.

  He had too much going on right now, he was too preoccupied. He didn’t want to explain his mood to anyone. That in itself made him feel shitty. Stanley was essentially his best friend and he didn’t want to confide in him. What kind of friend did that make him?

  Nick therefore went to the bar in the lobby of his hotel. The lights were dimmed and the crowd was surprisingly sparse for a Friday night. He could hear the soft jazz music over the light chattering. He ordered a scotch and swiftly downed it to calm his nerves.

  He was nursing a second drink when the idea of spending the evening alone no longer appealed to him. He wanted company, but not the sort that was familiar. He didn’t want to see Stanley or anyone who would ask him questions.

  It occurred to him that what he wanted was the last thing you should be doing. He was yearning for female companionship. Something fast and anonymous. He wondered if he was addicted. People laughed at sex addiction all the time and he’d once looked into it. He didn’t think he suffered from that.

  No, his hobby had become a habit. These days, it was a crutch. When he had a bad day at the office, he called an escort. When he wanted to talk about his problems without anyone important knowing about them, he called an escort. Some people said it was cheaper than therapy. It was less trouble than owning a dog.

  Sipping his scotch, he found himself craving the company of a woman.

  “Excuse me?” he asked the bartender. “Do you have a copy of the Journal de Montreal I can borrow?”

  The mixologist produced a copy of the tabloid from behind the bar and handed it to his customer.

  “Thanks.”

  The Journal de Montreal was the leading French-language newspaper in the western hemisphere. It had built its fortune and reputation on blood, sport, and sex. It was the latter which interested Nick.

  He flipped to the end where he found the classifieds. He knew just enough French to locate a list of escort agencies which briefly described its available ladies in shorthand. At this point, there were more numbers than actual words.

  Nick was aware that this was a terrible idea and yet he pulled out his phone. He dialed a number after he spotted an ad he found interesting. He spoke curtly, always waiting for the brief answers.

  “Yeah, hi. Who’s working tonight?”

  In broken English, a woman gave him a laundry list of the available ladies.

  “Okay, and does Cathy have a nice figure?” Nick asked more out of habit than interest.

  “Good. How soon can I get there?”

  He had selected an incall service, something he very rarely used since he much preferred having the women come to him.

  “And the address?”

  He produced a pen and wrote down the address on his cocktail napkin.

  “Great, thanks. I’ll be right over.”

  He put his phone away and finished his drink. As he stood up, Stanley joined him at the bar.

  “Hey,” the taller man greeted. “I didn’t know you were down here.”

  “I was looking for some downtime.”

  “Yeah, I was getting cabin fever up in my room myself. You want to get out of here, have a drink some place? Catch some strippers? This city is famous for their strippers, right?”

  Nick shook his head. “Maybe some other time, okay? I gotta be some place tonight.”

  “Oh,” Stanley said, caught off guard. “All right.”

  Offering him an apologetic smile, Nick pocketed the napkin and walked away from his buddy.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  In the escort world, there were two main branches: outcall and incall.

  Outcall referred to ladies who went to homes and hotel rooms to meet clients, while with incall it was the client who took to the road. It was basically the brothel business model except that many agencies and independent ladies worked out of a single apartment to circumvent the law. It was also a convenient way for the escort to work from home.

  Nick knew from experience that the higher-end ladies worked exclusively outcall so he mainly used this type of service. Tonight was different. He wanted a change of pace, anything to make him forget about his recent troubles. It wasn’t even about sex, not tonight. Not by a long shot.

  The taxi dropped him off in a quiet neighborhood in the north of the city. He went up the black curving wrought-iron staircase and knocked on the door. He paced his breaths, as nervous to meet someone new as he always was.

  With the reputable agencies he typically went through, there were always websites and most had professional photographs, albeit with the faces blurred. So he usually had a general idea of what to expect.

  Tonight was different. A three-line classified ad wasn’t much to go by, especially in French. The receptionist’s succinct description on the phone hadn’t made things much clearer.

  The door opened and Nick stopped breathing completely. The woman who answered had to be Cathy.

  “Salut.”

  She was rather pretty, in a girl-next-door sort of way. She was in her late twenties and had a toothy smile.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Good evening,” she said, adjusting to English. “Come in.”

  He walked in and tried to be subtle as he checked out her body. She was petite and dressed in a sexy purple baby doll. He liked what he saw.

  “Make yourself comfortable, I have to make a call.”

  She went into the kitchen and he heard her talking on the phone. It was customary for the girl to tell a third-party—most often the agency operator or driver—about the client arriving. It was the most basic security procedure.

  Meanwhile, Nick took in the apartment. It was poorly decorated. There were a few framed lithographs representing half-naked ladies. This told him this was a working apartment only and not where she lived.

  He produced an envelope—the fee—and placed it on the coffee table. He sat on the black leather couch and Cathy joined him a moment later. She noticed the envelope, but made no move to take it. She sat sideways next to him.

  “I like what you’re wearing,” he said to get things moving.

  “You do? Thanks.”

  “I bet you’re wearing something really sexy underneath.”

  She smiled coyly. “You want me to show you?”

  “I can’t wait, baby.”

  He removed his jacket and immediately she dove in to kiss him. She tasted minty fresh which was a pleasant surprise after last night’s experience. She was good at matching his pace which went from slow to furious. She expertly unbuttoned his shirt while they made out.

  He had told himself that he wasn’t coming here for sex. He wanted that familiar no-strings-attached sensation of having a woman next to him. It was harmless, soothing even. To him it was like having a security blanket.

  Now he needed her though…

  Her hands roamed across his broad chest and she teased his small areolas with her fingertips. She traced her way down and fumbled with his belt. He reached down to help her, all the while moving his lips against hers, probing her mouth with his hungry tongue.

  Cathy pushed down on his pants, urging him to disrobe. He liked her enthusiasm and lifted himself a few inches off the couch so she could yank his trousers down. She smiled at the sight of his briefs.

  “I love it when guys wear briefs, it’s hot. Gets me so turned on.”

  “I bet you are.”

  He stroked her bare legs before caressing the inside of her thighs. Unhurriedly, he crawled up toward her apex. He came in contact with thin cotton panties and touched her through it. He could feel her heat and he stroked her languidly. She kissed him even more feverishly. He pulled the underwear aside and fondled her folds. She wasn’t lying, she was indeed drenched.

  “Hmmm,” she purred.

  He pulled her pink panties down completely and she took the oppor
tunity to take off her baby doll, revealing a sizable chest. Without wasting a second, he bent down and showered her breasts with kisses, spending long moments worshiping her stiff nipples.

  She pushed him back and straddled his hips. She snaked his erection out of his underwear and tugged on it skillfully, making sure of this rigidity. After she unrolled a condom over it, she sank onto his length.

  “Oh God...”

  Both of them found their heads swimming at their coupling. She was wet around his girth and she was soon grinding her hips over him. Nick hugged her against him and let her ride him blissfully.

  “Yes,” she groaned as they changed positions and he buried himself into her.

  Her channel tightened around him when he did that. He pounded into her faster and she bumped back eagerly, wanting him, all of him.

  “Oh, yeah!”

  Her words made him swell within her. His release wasn’t far off and he picked up the pace. He drove into her with fast, long strokes. She buried her face into the cushions of the couch and whimpered as he sent her over the edge.

  “Aaahhh,” she mumbled, lost in the haze of pleasure.

  Her muscles fluttered, it was too much for Nick. He closed his eyes and let himself be carried to cloud nine. His body suddenly felt light as a feather as he emptied himself deep within her. His climax was powerful and drawn out, so much better than his experience with Suzy.

  He remained in her until he felt himself soften, something which happened hastily once he let himself think of the dead prostitute. Shit, why was he still thinking about that? He had come here to forget about his predicament and it was coming back to him with a vengeance.

  He pulled out of Cathy and sat back on the couch. She grabbed a handful of tissues and removed the condom. She went to flush it down and returned with a washcloth to clean him up. Once she was done, she curled up next to him on the couch.

  “Thanks, you were great,” he said, smiling sweetly at her.

  “You were awesome. I haven’t felt good like that in a month. You’re the kind of guy who goes after what he wants.”