She didn’t reply.
Once home, I went about the task of choosing an outfit for dinner. Not knowing where we were going made it difficult to choose wisely. With three outfits laid side by side, I debated the disadvantage and benefits of each.
The pink dress was pretty, the flowers at the hem and neckline made it ultra soft and feminine. The green shirtdress was made from soft cotton and looked comfortable. Blue was Jonathan’s favorite color. He would love the blue dress, but would the plunging neckline be appropriate for where we were going? Grace would be there, and she would be judging me. His mention of her already knowing what I did put a damper on the evening as it was. I may be a prostitute, but I didn’t want to look like one.
Ultimately, I decided on the blue dress. My job was to please Jonathan, and that dress would do it.
I would have to get used to the reality of my situation. Could I justify what I was doing? Because no one but Jonathan had intercourse with me, it was easy to lie to myself. My mind compartmentalized the men and my role with them.
With Ben, I was a dinner companion, and no matter how you sliced that, it would never make me a whore. This was probably the closest example of the promised mentor relationship. I dined with him and benefitted from his time-earned wisdom.
Paul was a project, and no matter how I justified my actions, whether I considered it sexual tutoring or ego stroking, I was trading sex for money. We didn’t have intercourse, but I did give him a blowjob the first time, and he wrapped his lips around my sex.
Jezebel.
Jonathan made it a cut-and-dried case. I spread my legs for him every time he asked. He deposited money into my account regularly. If that didn’t shout ‘whore’, I didn’t know what would. Ironically, I would have had sex with him for free. He was that good. Add that to his ability to make me feel valued, and I was lost in him. I could create every excuse as to why I wasn’t a whore, but in the end, the exchange of money for favors made it so.
For the first time since I’d started working for Concierge Services, I cried. Tears flowed freely from my eyes because I knew I could never go back to the girl I once was. I knew my parents had been right all along, and I knew I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.
No amount of money was worth selling my self-respect. No amount of money was worth the raised glass by Craig Hagen. No amount of money was worth allowing any man to put their hands and tongue on my body, let alone their penis inside me.
Why did I allow this? What lies had I believed to make this okay?
From what Jade had said, and even Sandra, this choice was going to be lonely, and lonely is definitely what I felt now. I couldn’t speak with Jade. I had to work through this on my own. After a deep breath, I thought, what was done was done. I’d do my time and move on with my life.
In spite of my tears, I was still looking forward to seeing Jonathan. What did that make me? The happy hooker? The non-penitent prostitute?
It made me stupid, but the happy kind of stupid one gets when they eat too much candy. He was my sugar high. The other men were the bellyache.
To get through Donald and Craig was the plan. After the weekend, I would stay with Jonathan and Ben. Paul could stay as long as he needed me. This would limit my contacts, and potentially my opportunities, but The Dean’s List served several purposes. The most pressing for me was money.
I typed a quick text to Sandra, telling her to close my account to new clients. She replied immediately with a not-so-nice message, telling me she was certain I had more time in my schedule to accommodate interested mentors.
Here was a woman who told me she didn’t sell sex, and yet she was telling me my store could accommodate more customers. I didn’t know if I wanted to scream, cry, or laugh. I decided to cry. On Sunday, I cried over my parents and their lack of everything. Today, I cried for myself. Tomorrow, there would be no more tears. Or so I hoped. Crying was a waste of time.
Anxious about the evening ahead, I waited downstairs for Howard to arrive. He showed up at the precise moment expected. I often wondered why Jonathan rarely came to get me and then realized I was falling back into my fantasyland of this being a date.
“Is Mr. Ferris at work?” I asked. Howard opened the door and helped me into the car.
“Yes. You will be meeting him at Lulu’s.” Of course, I would. He summoned me, and I came happily. I looked at the bracelet around my wrist, and everything seemed right in the world.
He was walking toward the car when I arrived. Today, he wore a black suit with a silver tie. It looked serious and intimidating. He had gone all Christian Grey on me. I could hardly wait to jump out of the car and hug him. That’s how crazy the situation was. I wanted to be in his arms all the time. To be covered in his scent was as comforting as being tucked into my warm bed on a cold night.
Howard was taking too damn long. My fingers toyed with the handle, but I pulled them back. I wasn’t an uncouth teenager. I had manners, and I was expected to use them when I was out with Jonathan.
When the door swung open, I offered my hand to the older man, who helped me exit the car. I wanted to hop out and dash the ten feet to my lover, but I exited the car with style and grace.
Jonathan told Howard he would see him tomorrow. I glanced at my overnight bag and was told Howard had it covered.
Seconds later, I was in his arms. His hands smoothed down my back and caressed my bottom.
“Good girl,” he said when he felt nothing under the thin fabric. Stepping into his embrace, I ran my hands under his coat. I was certain I liked the feel of his body as much as he liked mine. “I missed you. How has your week been going?”
It was in these moments I had a tough time with the escort/mentor relationship. It felt too much like something else. Something real, but I gave in to it.
“I missed you, too.”
With a tilt of my head, I glanced into his dark eyes. They were expressive, easy to get lost in. Easy to find yourself in. When his lips touched mine, the entire world ceased to exist. That was how it was with him. The minute our bodies connected, it was just us from that point forward.
“God, I can’t seem to get enough of you.” He cupped my cheek and kissed my forehead before he led me into the restaurant.
My nerves got the best of me as we entered Lulu’s. The opera was easy, we flitted from group to group. I wasn’t required to engage with anyone for longer than a few minutes. Tonight, I would be forced to endure an entire dinner with Grace and her husband. I hadn’t liked her after five minutes, so what was I going to do in an hour or so?
She was sitting alone at the table when we arrived. I was hoping her husband’s absence was because he was in the restroom. He at least could have been a buffer.
“Grace,” Jonathan said curtly. There was no warmth in his tone, and I wondered why I hadn’t noticed it the other night. “You remember River.”
She looked down her nose at me and nodded. “Of course, she’s the flavor of the month.”
“Enough,” he warned.
I’d never heard that tone come from him. It would have made me think twice about mouthing off if I had. He was firm when he dealt with my parents, but this inflection went deep. It was apparent he didn’t like Grace, and that pleased me.
He pulled out the chair directly across from her. I would have to stare at her all night. If that didn’t kill an appetite I had no idea what would. She reminded me of the gargoyles that sat on top of old churches. They looked stiff and mean. That was Grace. She had that Botox-infused look that did nothing for her face. Her scowl would remain forever.
Once again knowing I needed reassurance, from his position to my right, Jonathan slid his hand under the table and stroked my knee. Bliss. How could I not admire this man?
I sat quietly listening to the conversation. Grace’s husband had been tied up at work, so he was coming late. Their conversation went directly to the fundraiser. They had raised two hundred and thirty-seven thousand dollars for breast cancer research. I thought t
hat was amazing, but Grace found the number disappointing. I remember raising money for poor families in our community, and it thrilled me when we hit three digits. Six figures were phenomenal, but I kept my opinion to myself.
When Jonathan’s phone rang, he excused himself, leaving Grace and me at the table. Alone. I wondered if she would continue to scowl at me, or if she would engage in some type of conversation. The silence was annoying.
“River, you realize he will never love you. His heart belonged to my sister. You are just one more in a string of young college girls he dates and forgets. I just thought you should know from the beginning.” She looked really pleased with herself.
Her words should have stung, but they didn’t. She thought I was a date. She didn’t know I was an escort, and that made a difference in the way I felt about myself. When I arrived today, I arrived with the presumption that she knew what I was. That had eaten at my self-esteem, and I’d allowed her to glower at me the whole evening.
“I am completely aware of his love for your sister. I’m not looking to replace your sister. Thanks for the warning, but it was unnecessary.”
She poured the red wine down her throat and went after me again. “You sit there with your smooth skin and perky tits and think you can win a man like him. Well, let me tell you. It’s a losing battle. You may get him between your legs, but you will never share anything but body fluids with him. He’s a cold, hard man, and my sister gave everything to him, including her life. He wanted a child. That was what killed her.”
I should have been stunned into silence, but I wasn’t. I felt like I had to defend Jonathan. “Let me clarify something for you, Grace. That man you called cold is anything but. He’s the most generous, selfless man I know. As for being hard, you bet he is every time he sinks himself into my body.” A shadow loomed over me, but I was on a roll. “More importantly, he’s never been anything but honest with me. He’s an honorable man, and I’m sure he was a fine husband to your sister. She was a very lucky woman.”
I looked up to see Jonathan standing above me. His eyes were dark and hard. I wasn’t sure if he was angry with Grace or me, but it was obvious he was angry.
“Are you ready to go?” His words were reminiscent of Sunday’s conversation.
“No,” I said. I wasn’t quite finished with Grace. She had treated me with contempt from the minute she’d met me. Out of respect for Jonathan, I should have been afforded some type of courtesy.
He looked between Grace and me. “Okay.” He stood back and watched.
“Grace, someday someone is going to come around and win his heart again, and you’re going to want to be nice to that person if you want to continue to have him in your life. He’s worth having. You don’t have to mentor me. I’ve taken a spin around this world a time or two, and I’m not quite as stupid or naive as you might think. I know I’m not that girl. I’m just the girl who’s blessed to have him in her life right now.” I looked at Jonathan and said, “Now, I’m done.”
I stood up, turned around, and walked out of the restaurant. I wasn’t sure if I should hail a cab or wait. My limbs were shaky. The adrenaline of the moment had surged through my body, and I was coming down from the high fast. Concrete benches lined the concrete planters outside the restaurant. I found an empty spot and sat.
His eyes searched the area when he stepped out of the restaurant. It didn’t take him long to find me. Air filled my chest as he approached. My breath stilled. I wondered if he would be unhappy with me. I’d overstepped my boundaries when I’d spoken to Grace. She was his family. I was nothing but the girl he would take somewhere to have sex.
His silence frightened me. He stood above me and stared. When I didn’t look at him, he kneeled before me and laid his head in my lap. The air left my lungs in a long sigh. My fingers combed through his hair.
We both spoke the same words at the same time.
“I’m sorry,” blended in perfect harmony.
He rose and pulled me against him. “Thank you.”
I had no idea why he was thanking me. I’d lost control of myself. I’m sure I had embarrassed him. Somehow, I always managed to be a disappointment to those around me.
“Why are you thanking me? I shouldn’t have been so outspoken. I’m sorry.” My hands found their way into his jacket to wrap around his waist.
Would this be the last time he held me?
“Sunshine, you make me feel alive. I love hearing that I’m worth having, but you were wrong about one thing. You might just be that girl. Let’s go home. I’ll explain why Grace hates me, then you will understand why she dislikes you.”
I wasn’t sure what shocked me more: the word home, or that he told me I might be that girl. Did he mean he was capable of loving me?
Chapter 21
We entered his Fifth Avenue address and took the elevator straight to the top. The penthouse. Standing at the threshold of his magnificent home, I was in awe.
This is where he lives?
The floor-to-ceiling windows provided a diorama of Central Park. A million-dollar view he was sharing with me.
The clink of ice in a glass drew my attention. He stood by the bar in the corner and poured himself a scotch. For me, he shook the vodka and poured it into the Vermouth-spritzed glass. After tossing a few olives into the glass, he presented me with the perfect martini.
As he approached what looked to be a delectably soft, black leather sofa, he said, “Come and sit with me.” I didn’t need to be told twice. He patted his lap, and I crawled onto him, letting my shoes slip to the floor.
He said he wanted to explain about Grace. “You owe me no explanations.” I leaned my head against his chest and relaxed.
“I may not owe you one, but I’ll give you one.” He leaned forward to pick up his drink. “Claire died from inflammatory breast cancer. It’s a rare form of cancer that progresses rapidly. Grace blamed me for her death because I wanted children. Claire wanted children as well, but she was okay if it didn’t happen.”
He took a minute while he sipped the scotch. I tried to slide off his lap, but he held me tight. I wanted to see him. I needed to look into his eyes. He was telling me about his dead wife, the woman he had sworn to love forever. I wanted to see what that kind of love looked like. Instead, I leaned into his chest and listened while he spoke.
“Go on,” I coaxed. If he felt I needed to know about his past, then I would sit wherever he wanted me to sit and listen for any length of time he needed.
“She started fertility treatments. They messed with her hormones and made everything feel out of whack. When her breasts became sore, she thought it was a side effect of the shots. It wasn’t. The whole time we thought her hormonal, but in fact, she was dying from cancer. It was quick. We found out on a Friday, and she passed eight weeks later. When she died, she was four weeks pregnant, and we hadn’t known.”
Sorrow stuck in my throat and threatened to choke me. How was I supposed to comfort him? “I’m sorry” seemed like a ridiculous thing to say when he had lost so much.
“How old was Claire?”
“She died five years ago. She was thirty. I thought I’d mourn my whole life for her, and then I met you.” He finished off his drink and placed his glass on the table.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything. Just make love to me. With you, I finally feel something again. Make me feel something.”
I slid from his lap to the floor. His head lay against the cushions while I stripped him bare. He was mine for the night to do with as I pleased. We weren’t in some swanky hotel; he had trusted me enough to bring me to his home.
I straddled his erection and pressed it against my bare skin. He hissed and groaned as I slid the tip in and out of my heat. I was playing with fire going skin to skin with him. He held my hips and looked into my eyes. I knew I was clean, as I had just been tested. I had no idea where he had been.
“Let me get a condom.” I swear, the light died in his eyes the minute
the word condom was uttered. “When was the last time you were tested?”
“The first day I called you. My tests came back clean.” His hands sat loosely on my hips. He no longer controlled our movement.
My entire medical history, from my weight to any STDs I might have had, was available on my profile. Mine had a big, fat zero in every column. I’d never had a disease of any type. Not even a cold sore.
I spoke the words that filled me with warmth when he said them to me. “You please me.”
As the last word was spoken, I sank myself onto his length. I swear, his eyes rolled back into his head. It wasn’t smart, but it was my gift to him. I wanted him to feel everything—unhindered, uninhibited, unharnessed passion. It was his to take and mine to give.
The moment was incredibly special. He peaked several times, but I slowed the pace to pull him back. He had always seen to my needs first. Wasn’t it time for someone to see to his? When I knew he could take no more, I lowered myself onto his rock-hard member and rotated my hips until he came so powerfully, he screamed my name. I’d never let a man come inside me. Tonight was a first, but I imagined it wouldn’t be the last. Once we went bare, I was certain we wouldn’t go back.
He lifted us both and walked us to his bathroom. He slipped out of me the minute he sat me on the counter. Naked, he stood before me in all his glory. I sat on his marble counter with my dress up to my waist. Damn, he was sexy. The man was seventeen years my senior, and I didn’t give a shit. I would sooner date him than date Luca. Jonathan had maturity on his side, and that outshone youth any day.
He no sooner placed me on the counter before he started a bath and began to undress me. We hadn’t said a word to one another, yet the silence wasn’t awkward; it was comforting. Nothing had to be said. Something profound had happened, and it seemed we both recognized it.
The water was perfectly hot when we stepped into the enormous soaking tub. He cradled me between his legs and pulled me against his chest.
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