by Kira Barker
A third reason came to mind, one that I felt had a lot more merit. Brigitte seldom did anything without calculation, and losing one of her high earners for up to a week wasn’t very business savvy if she could just as well have talked Ray into using one of the cheaper girls. Thinking back to our last few interactions, I realized that she had been acting differently. She was planning something, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. My very recent experience might have lent credit to the “not,” but she had been hounding me less than usual, and setting me up with a client like Hunter could be end-game tactics. At thirty-three, I really wasn’t the girl anymore that I had started out as, in that Ray had been right. There were still plenty of clients who didn’t care, and some, like Darren himself, even preferred a more mature woman over a flighty girl, but my days as an escort were numbered. A year or two I might still have in me, but there was a limit, and I was approaching it.
Had this been her reminder that I was simply getting too old for this? Or rather an example to make me want to reach for higher goals than staying a working girl forever?
Time would tell, and likely our next meeting, too, unless she felt like I hadn’t received the message loud and clear yet. Whatever it was, as I was feeling right now, I had no intention of pushing her for an encore.
My phone went off, scaring the living crap out of me as I scrambled toward where it rested on my nightstand.
Seeing the number and ID flashing on the display, I felt my fingers go numb around the plastic casing.
Darren.
Of course, now he would call. Had Ray taken so little time with his silent gloating and had turned it into a public one? Or did he call to tell me that he was done with me for good? I had a million reasons not to pick up, but somehow I couldn’t manage to go through with it.
“Hi.”
Likely not my best line, but at least my voice didn’t crack on the single syllable. Then I held my breath, waiting for his reply.
“Hey,” he offered, sounding just that perfect bit of cautious that made my spirit soar. “I hope I’m not calling at a bad time?”
Ire rose inside of me, but was quickly doused by the wave of misery closing around my heart.
“I always shut my phone off when I’m working,” I replied, trying to sound tart, but it came out hollow instead.
“I know,” he admitted, pausing. “Look, the reason I’m calling is…” Another break, and I heard something that sounded suspiciously like a sigh. Was he actually gearing up to… but no, that was impossible. But still. “I’m sorry for how I treated you last weekend.”
“I’m sorry, too,” I replied, and there was a lot more emotion—and now regret, and a little self-pity—in my answer than I liked.
“What do you have to be sorry for?” he joked, his tone a little lighter. “I behaved like a jackass, and you were in the right. I wouldn’t even hold it against you if you’d gloat at me now.”
Nothing was further from my mind than that. Rolling over, I couldn’t help but wince, and my traitorous phone of course picked up the sound all too well.
“Okay, I admit, that was a bad one,” Darren deflected what he likely took for my misgivings. “Still, can you forgive me?”
My throat grew tight and a shudder ran through my body, but at the same time there was that weird fluttering sensation deep in my stomach that had been running rampant last weekend.
“There’s nothing to forgive. Just forget it happened,” I offered. Not entirely the truth, but nothing that had happened today was his fault.
“Why am I not convinced? You’re not sounding too happy right now.”
“That has nothing to do with you,” I said, and this time, it was nothing but the truth.
“Well, then let me make it up to you. How about I take you out tomorrow evening? Your choice where we go, and what we get up to,” he proposed.
My throat seized up for good, and it took me an awfully long time to force air back into my lungs.
“That’s not a good idea right now,” I whispered, hoping that the lack of volume would leech emotion out of my voice.
Darren paused, making me close my eyes and pray that he’d just drop the point and move on.
“Okay. I understand that after last weekend you probably struck me clean from your schedule. Maybe tonight then? At your earliest convenience, if you please. I’d hate to leave things between us askew.”
I took another breath, this one audibly trembling.
“Darren, I can’t.”
A longer pause followed.
“You are still mad at me.”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Then what—“
Another breath, this one hurting even more.
“I just can’t,” I kept insisting.
“You should know by now that I don’t take no for an answer unless you really mean it?”
Again with the joking, only that now what had made me laugh last week was cutting right to the bone.
“You don’t understand,” I tried again. “I physically can’t—”
And there my voice broke, and the most heart-wrenching sob tore free, making me clasp my hands over my mouth as quickly as I could drop my phone. This was so not how I normally behaved.
Even with the phone now in front of me on the comforter and not on speaker, I could clearly hear the alarm in Darren’s voice.
“Penelope? What’s wrong? Did something happen—“
I had to stop this before he either jumped to the wrong conclusions, or worse yet, the right, so I picked up the phone again.
“I’m fine,” I tried to assure him, but now tears started streaming down my face, and I was unable to stop them or keep them out of my voice. “Just give me a couple of days and—“
“Who did this to you? Just tell me and I’ll call Brigitte and make sure he will never touch you again.”
“That’s not going to be an issue, I think.” For one thing, I doubted that Ray had any reason to ask for a second helping.
“Then what—“ he started, then suddenly cut off, and I could picture him only too well as he drew himself up to his considerable height. “Ray.”
Oh, great, I thought, and then the floodgates opened.
What followed were some of the most humiliating moments of my life. I’d never been a very emotional person, and I certainly didn’t give anyone—present or not—the satisfaction of reducing me to tears easily, but the constant misery that I’d been living in for the past days, combined with the emotional turmoil today’s session with Ray had plunged me into, sprinkled with Darren’s obvious distress on top just made it impossible for me to get a grip on myself. I was suddenly tired of pretending to be strong, of ignoring all the shitty things that happened to me on a day-to-day basis, and weeks—if not years—of pushing it all away came crashing down on me.
I guessed that was a valid excuse for why, eventually, I let Darren talk me into agreeing to coming over to see him tonight.
“It’s James’s night off, so you won’t even have to put up with him,” he told me with a subdued chuckle. “Let me cook you dinner, and we can talk in private.” Then he hung up, leaving me with just the hint of a smile, my eyes and throat still burning from yet more unshed tears.
And so it came that, roughly an hour later, I got out of a cab and walked up that by-now-familiar driveway. The door opened before I was halfway there, backlighting Darren where he waited for me, still dressed from work in his slacks and shirt, but the tie removed, top buttons undone, and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
I’d tried to do the best I could with makeup that I felt might hold up to a repeat performance of our phone call, yet after a second fit had abandoned that attempt. I knew he likely wouldn’t care, but I still felt naked and ugly as I stepped up to him. My hair was a lost cause, and all the concealer in the world couldn’t hide the dark circles underneath my eyes. Even though I’d stayed with him overnight, I’d always made sure that he never saw me without my war paint on. Now
my freckles were in full view, my red rimmed eyes unremarkable, and the lack of contouring and blush left my face with only a hint of cheekbones. I’d chewed up my lips for good this afternoon so they were puffy and red, but not in a very attractive kind of way.
I knew that I shouldn’t have come here, not like this, but as I stepped up to him, the light from behind him falling onto my face, I felt like there was nowhere else in the world I wanted to be.
He looked me over carefully, and for a moment I wondered just how horrified he must be by my plain looks, but then I realized that he was likely searching for bruises.
“He didn’t hit me. At least not in the face, and not hard enough to leave marks. That clearly wasn’t what he was after.”
I didn’t get a chance to say more, which was likely for the best, considering how dead my voice sounded; the next moment I found myself firmly in his embrace, my cheek resting against his shoulder, breathing in the warm scent of him. I closed my eyes and hugged him back, so insanely glad to feel his familiar body underneath my hands once again.
I didn’t know how long we remained standing there, wrapped around each other, but eventually I started feeling self-conscious about it, and when I gave him a light push, Darren let go, but only to bring his hands up to cup my face. Staring deep into his eyes, I could see concern shining there, mixed with a frown of what I figured was regret.
That reminded me of something that had occurred to me on the way over.
“Why was your first guess Ray?”
Now guilt seeped into the mixture of emotions, making me pause for a moment. Darren exhaled loudly, then let go, but gallantly held the door for me. I walked inside, idly kicking my heels off, then followed him into the huge living room. We hadn’t spent much time here before, but I knew the layout of the entire house and was quite perplexed when he led me on into the kitchen, where the next surprise, pleasant this time, waited for me.
“I didn’t expect that you actually meant preparing a meal yourself when you said you’d cook me dinner,” I hedged, looking over the array of cut vegetables ready to go into the pots and pans on the stove.
“I may be living a life of lavish luxury where people sneak into my room just before bedtime to fluff my pillows one last time, but I wasn’t born into that world. I wouldn’t have survived college on just ramen alone.”
“Many people do,” I pointed out, then gingerly sat down at one of the high stools at the center island, opposite of where he went back to—expertly—dicing onions.
“I’ve never been satisfied with just scraping by,” he let me know, a slight smile playing around the corners of his mouth before he got serious again. “But back to your question. I didn’t exactly know, but when you sounded so distressed, my first thought was that Ray had done it again.”
I figured I knew all too well what “it” was now.
“So that’s a thing for him? Show the girls you not-date where exactly they belong in this world?”
I knew I sounded terribly cynic, but it was hard enough to show a brave face; I didn’t have to be gracious about it.
Darren looked away, but then visibly made himself catch my gaze again.
“Yes. And I’m really sorry for that.”
His apology was rather irritating.
“It’s not your fault. Or did you tell him outright to come seek me out and show me a not-so-good time?”
There was a pause that would have made me suspicious otherwise, but I could see where the whole affair would make him uncomfortable, all things considered.
“I guess you can only show the man who is, technically but not practically, your boss what a loser he is on a daily basis for so long without expecting repercussions. And because I’m untouchable pretty much in every situation of my life, he has to delegate his misgivings to the next available target.”
“Your whore,” I helpfully supplied.
He tensed, and with not a little amusement I realized that he was gnashing his teeth.
“Don’t refer to yourself like that. I value the fact that you are a very honest person and don’t suffer from delusions, but you’re so much better than that. And so much more.”
Swallowing got just a little harder, and I quickly changed the subject.
“Anyway, what’s done is done. I gather that the fact that you asked me over tonight means that this isn’t a complete deal breaker for you?”
He nodded, using the carrots he julienned as an excuse to look away.
“If you can see past the fact that your association with me led to what happened to you, yes.”
“I still owe you an entire day,” I pointed out. “I almost feel obliged to come when you say ‘heel.’” That made him look up, a hint of hunger seeping into his gaze, and I couldn’t help the self-satisfied smile that crept onto my face. “What, you don’t think I’m capable of gallows humor? It comes with the territory. Just give me a few days and I’ll be back in the saddle, ready to ride you however long you like me to.”
His smile broadened, but something on the stove boiling over kept him from replying right away, and by the time he could divert some attention back to me, the moment had passed. Probably for the best, as my body kept reminding me none too gently.
“There’s just one thing I don’t understand. Brigitte seems like a very careful woman, and she struck me as someone who’s excellent at judging people’s characters. How Ray’s intentions could slip by her is beyond me. At least I presume that he went through her and you didn’t set this up yourself?”
I shook my head, feeling a reminder of the guilt that had been unnerving me all week well up again.
“No, I didn’t, and if it had been up to me, I wouldn’t have let him within ten feet of me.”
“It wasn’t?” He raised his brows, eyeing me questioningly.
Sighing, I reached across the island to briefly run a finger down his cheek.
“For all you don’t want me to refer to myself as a whore, that’s exactly what I am, and if my madam tells me to swallow my pride, roll over, and just take it, that’s exactly what I do.”
Now those brows drew together, creating a stark furrow right between them.
“She actually did that?”
“Not in so many words, but it was understood. In fact, I think she wanted to teach me a lesson, and let’s just say that I learned it quite thoroughly.”
“What lesson?”
“That I should never forget where I come from, and that I would be nothing without her.”
That wasn’t entirely the truth, and he seemed to realize that, but didn’t push it.
“It just doesn’t make any sense. Even if he paid you—and her, by extension—well, that can’t make up for the time you’ll lose now until you start working again. At least I guess you’re off the clock now, judging from the fact that you can’t even sit down without discomfort?”
“Well, most guys actually don’t want to fuck a girl who’s damaged and in pain, not even the ones who get off on that, if they weren’t the cause.”
He shook his head ruefully and looked at me from under heavy lashes again.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am about this.”
“Not your fault,” I repeated, then slid off the stool, not just because it was actually more comfortable to remain standing, but also because I felt the distinct need to touch him. “So, what’s for dinner?”
Conversation remained light, meaningless, but completely relaxed while we waited for the food to be done, then enjoyed it right there on the center island, not bothering with setting places on the dining room table. I’d of course seen Darren naked on various occasions, but tonight I was feeling like he was baring his soul to me, and I couldn’t help but repay the favor, one stupid little anecdote at a time.
Once we were done, we retreated to the living room, where Darren was quick to wrap his arms around my middle and pull me down onto his lap as he fell onto the couch, ending up with me straddling him. His hands were so incredibly warm as they ran up
and down my back, then settled around my neck, pulling my head down so he could kiss me.
I couldn’t say what I’d expected, but the entire way over I’d sworn to myself that I would rebuke him the second he made a physical move on me. But feeling his hands now find their way underneath my clothes until skin met skin, his scent clouding my senses, his taste heavy on my tongue, it was impossible for me to utter those words that kept zipping through my head. Unlike usual, his touch was gentle and slow, lingering caresses where he often wanted escalation. There was no hesitation to it, but I could tell that if I just said the word, he would stop that very second. Only that with every minute we spent kissing and touching on the couch, what little was left of my resistance dwindled until my whole body felt alight with need.
“I probably shouldn’t do this,” he murmured against my lips, but didn’t stop as he divested me first of my top, quickly followed by my bra.
Leaning back, I invited him to look at me, and he drank my naked upper body in, then bent his head to capture my nipple with his lips. The gentle sucking made my lids flutter, and I reached up to thread my fingers through his hair, keeping him close.
“Don’t stop,” I whispered back, losing myself in his tenderness.
Things progressed steadily, but at a slower pace than I’d had sex in a long time—or ever, if I thought back to those first attempts in high school. His shirt ended up next to my top, then there was some shuffling so he could pull my pants off, and I his; panties and boxer briefs followed, and then we were naked, barely halting for a moment to appreciate each other before we joined in our need to get as close as humanly possible.
I felt a whisper of trepidation cross my mind as his fingers moved down my stomach, but as if he felt it, he stopped, and instead pushed me down into the lush leather of the couch, ending up kneeling before me. One corner of his mouth quirked up into a smirk, then he bent his head and let his tongue finish that trail, and for the small eternity that followed, I forgot I even had the capacity to think. And then I was crazed with lust, yearning for more than kisses, licks, and teasing, and pulled him down atop me, wrapping my legs around his hips so he couldn’t escape.