I looked at his eyes. They were so soft. He looked back at mine. Little by little we leaned into each other’s gaze. I lost all the air in me. I closed my eyes. His lips were soft and warm, parting mine. The kiss didn’t last very long, but it felt like an eternity. He tasted like champagne. I felt my heart flutter. I wanted to kiss more. When I opened my eyes, I looked around to make sure no one saw. My mother and Tom were both staring because of course they were.
It felt wrong, but also so perfect and so right. He put a hand on my knee and the shock woke me back up. It was all a lie. He was just acting. This was part of the job. This was what I paid him for. I felt disappointed. His face looked so sincere. Maybe he was sincere?
No, it couldn’t have been. I wasn’t going to fall for him. He had to act as the date of other women several times. He had this down to a fine art. It was all just a play and I was his stage.
Oscar for the best kiss goes to Grant and April in “Weekend at Tom’s Wedding”.
He grabbed my hand and kissed that too. “We better say goodbye to everyone before we go back to our room.” I was still in a state of shock so all I could do was nod and follow his lead. I wasn’t nearly as experienced as he was, and I wanted his charm to rub off on me. Maybe at least the alcohol would help.
We conquered our goodbyes, talking to hopefully everyone that we had to. We held hands, said what a lovely evening it was, and asked all the right questions without lingering too long. I didn’t mind being the dog on his leash for social interactions. It was easier for me this way.
I felt my lips over and over with my fingers as we went to the elevators. I wanted more, but knew that I couldn’t accept it.
14
Grant
We stumbled back to the room as gracefully as we could. She made it look easy. I was having a bit more difficult time keeping it together. She had been sort of quiet in the elevators and I wondered if I had ruined the night somehow. I hoped that the kiss wasn’t too far, and had I been sober I would have kept it strictly professional. She just looked so nice that evening, and she was so enchanting. Her laugh made you feel like dancing. We came as close as we could to dancing, and I’ll be damned if this walk back to the room isn’t a clumsy version of a waltz.
I playfully nudged her when she bumped into me. It made her smile. That was enough to tell me that she wasn’t upset. Maybe she was just tired. It made no use worrying about it, but I couldn’t live with myself if she were upset.
“Is everything okay?”
She looked at me with her large doe eyes. They were gorgeous. “Everything is exactly perfect.”
My phone vibrated in my pocket and I wondered who would be calling me. I couldn’t handle a client now. I had set all those calls to be picked up by my voicemail. Everyone knew I was out of the office. I guess that wasn’t enough to keep them from ringing. I let this one go to voice mail as I put our card key in the door. Then my phone vibrated again.
I checked the screen. It was my mom. The only reason for her calling this late had to be an emergency or an accident on her part. I told April to go in the room and that I would be in there in a bit. I picked it up.
“Mom?”
“How old are you?” Her voice sounded a bit stuffy, like she had a cold.
“What?”
“How old are you?” She had to be drunk. I was preparing for the point she was going to be making. She was either calling to shame my lifestyle or my other family members. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with this now, but I could tell she was fairly upset.
“Twenty-Six.”
“Right. Gold star.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“Abso-lutely everything.”
“I need you to be more specific. Is this a mid-life crisis.”
“No!” She shrieked back. “How dare you. No. Not me, but maybe your father…” Here we go. I sighed. “I mean, she’s pregnant! How can someone still be fertile. How?”
“It’s science.”
“It’s ludicrous, that’s what it is! He knocked up that 32-year old-woman. How can he still have the stamina to do that? He didn’t have any when we separated, I can tell you that. That well was dry to the bone.”
“Can we skip those kinds of details?”
“Sorry.” She hiccupped. “It just isn’t fair. What does that little girl see in him?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll tell you what she sees.” She started answering her own question. I hardly had to be present for calls like this with my mother, she just wanted to spread her opinions on her children like fertilizer on a garden. “She sees dollar signs. You know he is older than me. He is going to croak first. Especially with the way he lives.” She scoffed. “I bet he doesn’t live long enough to see that brat graduate.”
“That’s awful, mom.”
“Sorry. Sorry.” She slurped something on the other side and then continued. “That baby is going to have nephews older than him. That’s sick. I never thought I would have married into this kind of a family.”
“Yeah, and now you divorced out of it too.”
“That hurts, Grant.” She sniffled.
“I know, I’m sorry, mom.” Even through their marriage neither of my parents were home much. They only had themselves to blame for having a child who was an escort. I think they got tired of parenting after my first few brothers. We were all accidents, but it seemed like I was more accident than the others were.
“That really really hurts. That’s a shitty thing to say.”
“Sorry.”
“How is your marriage going?” I tried to change the conversation.
“It’s fine. Ben has to have a knee cap surgery next week and he has been complaining about his back. It makes me feel so old to date someone his age. Why couldn’t he be 32. I’d even settle for 40.”
“You’re married and he is an appropriate age for you.” That is, for her age. He was twenty years older than her. I would escort with that difference but I don’t think I would ever marry with that kind of a difference. The picking pool gets slimmer the older you become.
“Yeah, well.” She sniffed again. “I’m a grandma and your dad is going to be a dad again. It makes me sick.”
“I’d love to chat longer about this, but I’m in the middle of something. We can talk more when I get back home.”
“Of course you’re busy. You’re always too busy for me.” She sniffled. I wasn’t going to fall for her guilt trip. My conscious wasn’t clumsy enough for that.
“I love you, mom.”
“Fine. I love you too. Come home sometime.”
I didn’t like leaving my mom sad like that, but she was annoying me with her complaints and I was already annoyed by dad enough as it was. I hated hearing about that kind of stuff. He was too old to have a healthy sex life, especially with someone so young. He would be closer to death than that baby was to being an adult. My dad was never really considerate of my mom’s feelings, but this wasn’t really much of her business anymore. I could understand why she was upset.
I already had three other brothers. I was the baby, and so everyone thought I got off so easy. Really it meant my parents had the highest standards for me. Now there was another baby and I can’t imagine the anxiety it would put on the child or how easily it would be spoiled since it was an only child. I hoped it would be an only child.
When I got back in the room April had showered and put her sweats on. She was flipping back and forth from HGTV to the Food network with a bag of chips in her lap.
“I thought you said you were on a diet.”
“Yeah but I’m drunk also so,” she stuck out her tongue at me. If anyone didn’t need to diet, it was April. She was curved, but all of them were an excellent size. They added interest to her body. I much preferred this to all the thin women in the shows in Vegas. It was nice for a little change. She was different than them in a lot of ways. “Who was that on the phone?”
“It was my mom.”
“Oh. I figured it was another…”
“Cougar?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, you were still right.”
“Oh.” She looked over at me then back at the TV. “Complicated family.”
“Definitely. Why do you think I became a hooker?”
She smiled at me and went back to watching the set on TV about remodelling a house. Outside of college I have never met anyone as anxious and semi-crazy as April. Sometimes she would talk to herself out loud. She did a really good job of drifting off into her own place It was funny to watch her chain of thoughts and what she day dreamed about. The less sad she got the more positive her dreams were. Before it seemed like she had a drive because she wanted to prove herself, but in the small amount of time that I had known her she had switched a little. It seemed like she was trying to start doing things because she wanted to and because she made them happy. She no longer seemed ashamed of me, her escort date. She was beginning to embrace the weekend and the fun we would have.
I was really hoping that now that she wanted to swim that we would. Hopefully soon. Hopefully tonight. Hopefully naked.
I sat on the bed and watched the show with her, but I wasn’t really paying attention to the TV. April would point out details of certain houses, explaining that she had always dreamed of living in a place like that or with that or yadda yadda. When it was on the food network she would groan and ask me frequently if we should get food service. I had to keep turning it down, letting her know each time that I had to watch my intake and I had already gone over with the alcohol.
“Meeeee too.” She laughed and finished the bags of chips. “That’s why I figured why not.”
“It’s not like you need to stick to it that tightly, anyway.”
“Yes I do.” She started to look a little disappointed. “If I don’t stick to it in the beginning, odds are I won’t stick to it at all. But right now I’m drunk so it doesn’t count.”
“Right.” I sorted through my bag, looking for my tooth brush.
“I’ll be hot again soon.”
“You’re gorgeous now. You don’t need to work out anymore.”
“Grant. I can’t be a potato forever.”
“The only reason why you are saying that is because you are what you eat and you just had a bag of those.”
She snorted and threw the bag at me.
“I really don’t get how you don’t see it. Why do you have such low self confidence?”
“My mom.” She mumbled. April seemed like she was in less of a joking mood and more of a somber mood now. She was beginning to sober up.
“How does your mom make you feel bad?”
“She reminds me of the accident. She tells me about how I gained a ton of weight on it.”
“That’s horrible. That can’t be true.”
“It was 70 lbs.”
I stood and blinked at her a bit. That was a lot of weight to put on. If she had gained that much and looked like this, how little had she weighed before? “Even if you are bigger than you were before, you aren’t fat by any means.”
“That’s so sweet of you.”
“But you really aren’t. You just have hips and boobs.” She blushed and turned it back to HGTV before the cooking was done. “Why did you switch it?”
“I don’t have any more food to eat and that channel makes me so hungry.”
“Then just order room service. Just because I’m not eating doesn’t mean you can’t.”
“Please?” She looked at me with puppy dog eyes. “If I do, you have to.”
It was really hard to resist. I had already gone over my diet by 563 calories, and I didn’t really want to have to work all of those off when I got back home. I was having a great time, though. Maybe I could surf it off, or do some heavy dancing at the wedding. April started chanting the word “indulge” over and over, growing from quiet to fairly loud.
“Fine.”
“Yay!” She picked up the phone and dialed the number. “What do you want?”
“How about a banana split?”
“Wooh! Chocolately and starchy. Just how I like it.”
She told them our order, fumbling a few words when she spoke. After she hung up the receiver she crossed her arms and smiled at me.
“What?”
“Normally I’d have to recite a phone call before I made it for it to go that well.” She smirked. “And I convinced pretty boy to eat tons of fat with me.”
“And I convinced pretty girl to give in to her temptations.”
“Whatever. You’re nothing special.” She said, sarcastically. I could see her cheeks become rosier each time I complimented her. It felt good to make her feel better, and it felt great to see the reaction physically. Normally people don’t react that much when you compliment them, but she internalized each one. I hope she knew I meant it with every fiber of my being. I tugged at my tie and slipped it off.
15
April
“Woah, what are you doing?” I said and Grant began to lift his shirt out of his pants. “In the bathroom.”
“What? You’ve never seen a man shirtless before?”
I blushed.
“You know, if we go swimming, you can’t exactly run away in the ocean. It’s dangerous.” He took his shirt off and then his undershirt. I looked away. When I looked back he was laying in the bed with only his boxers and a hotel robe on.
“What are you doing?”
“Laying down.”
“No way. You’re going to sleep on the couch.”
“No I’m not.”
“It’s part of the deal.”
“No, I just said I won’t be sleeping with you. I never said I wouldn’t be sharing a bed sleeping with you.”
“You have to.”
“It’s too uncomfortable.”
“It’s perfectly comfortable. You haven’t even sat on it, how would you know?”
“You haven’t sat on it either.” He was right, but I was starting to become impatient. “You wouldn’t know if it’s comfy or not. And if it’s that comfy, why don’t you sleep on it?”
“My invite, my rules.”
He chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Well you are just going to have to deal with this. I’m not going to break my back just because you don’t want to share.” He got up and went to the bathroom. “I still have to shower. You can get used to the idea while I am gone.”
The ice cream was delivered and I stress ate. The more food I put in my body, the more I could feel myself becoming sober. If I hadn’t gotten to be better friends with him I probably would have offered him the bed instead of the couch. I felt comfortable enough with him now, though, to demand he be the bigger man. It’s funny how quickly you can be acquainted to someone when put in high stress situations with plenty of booze. Especially when you are both about the same amount of comfortable. Actually, he seemed more used to this than me. He could dance his way through social groups like a ballerina. I was going to have to read his book on how to be a charming person without having sex with them.
I finished all the ice cream. He took incredibly long showers. I wondered if maybe he had more products than me or if he needed time to settle. I heard the water turn off so I tucked myself under the covers, hoping that if I couldn’t argue his way out of sleeping on the bed. I could hog the bed to a point where he didn’t want to sleep on it. The door began to open. I squeezed my eyes shut and did my best drunk impression of a sleeping person.
“Are you going to scoot over, or am I going to have to make you?” I peeked out of one of my eyes. He started to take off his robe, wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. Each of his abs were like little mountains on his stomach. It took all my effort not to stare. I did an awful job. He slid into the bed, nudging me onto one side as he did.
“Separate blankets.” I said, hoping that the layers would give us some distance. He respected my request, letting out a sigh and rolling his eyes a bit.
“Your face gets rosy and you babble. You just speak your mind. It’s like you lose control of your tongue. And who doesn’t like to have their body marveled?”
“Me.”
He looked at me, some sorrow in his eyes. I could tell my self pity was starting to annoy him. He had told me I was beautiful enough times for me to get annoyed by that even. We both said nothing. Looking in his eyes I could see the sharp details in the pools of brown. He looked caring. He looked trustworthy. He looked like he cost a million dollars, which I didn’t have.
I could still feel his body through the sheets we had between us. All my hopes for a fun sleepover with him were dashed out of my head. I had lived with a gay male for so long that I forgot how to interact with a straight one. This wasn’t like a best friend sleepover, and that made it difficult for me to know how to act. I wanted to play his game. I wanted to shock him back. I wanted to know what that power felt like.
“I didn’t save any ice cream for you. You shouldn’t have showered so long.” I sassed.
“Good. I didn’t want any.”
Damn. This was going to be harder than it seemed.
He started to lean in, and I scooted back a little. I wanted to lean in too, though. So badly. I wanted to feel those lips again. I hate how badly I wanted to be with him. I hate that he knew that. I hate that I couldn’t tell if he was taking advantage of my wallet or my heart. There was no way that I could kiss him. I couldn’t kiss him this weekend, at least.
“What?” He opened his eyes. I surprised him this time, not giving in.
“We can’t.”
“Why not?”
I didn’t answer. I was afraid that if I did I would offend him. I didn’t know how to respond. His brown eyes pierced through mine. I wanted to kiss him. I felt guilty for giving in and guiltier for not giving in. I couldn’t afford him enough already, and if this was a clever Vegas trick, I would be on the streets in no time.
Auctioned to Him 2: His for a Week Page 45