I stare at him. At his intense eyes. His beautiful lips. I don’t know what to say. I should say what I feel. That I love him too, and that I’ve loved him since our first date. Since that moment when I thought that someone had stood me up and had rescued me. But for some reason I choke up. Tears start to gather.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” he asks, taking my face into his hands and wiping my tears with his strong thumbs. I nod.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize for crying more than anything else.
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. That was too much for you. I shouldn’t have come on so strong.”
I shake my head, no. He doesn’t get it. These are tears of joy. Relief. Hope. I look into his eyes and then pull myself a little closer to him. When I close my eyes, his lips touch mine, and sparks of electricity course through me. It feels just like the first time. His touch causes this chemical reaction in my body, one that I can’t control. His tongue makes his way into my mouth as he buries his hands in my hair and pulls slightly. My heartbeat speeds up, and we start to move as one. His hands run down my neck and shivers run up my spine. As his tongue demands more and more of my mouth, his fingers make their way along the top of my breasts. I start to breathe a little faster. I run my fingers down his body and stop at his thighs. I move my hand up and down his thighs, and his breathing speeds up to match mine. His erection is already full-fledged, and I press down on it, a little bit.
“Oh, Chloe,” he moans into my ear.
“Does it feel good?” I ask. He nods through the kiss.
We mess around for a little bit longer, but never cross the line. My doctor has made it clear to me that I can’t participate in any recreational activities quite yet, and that includes sex. As much as I want to violate that rule, I can’t. A big part of me is relieved when Finn pulls away first. He was there when the doctor explained all the rules of recovery to me.
After we stop making out like teenagers, he takes my hand in his and we again look out over the roof, admiring the lights below.
“Finn,” I say after a while.
“Yeah?” he responds after a moment. Lost in thought.
“I love you too.”
Epilogue - Chloe
It is our two-year anniversary. Exactly two years since our date on top of the rooftop of the Cedar Sinai Medical Center. Though my recovery has been difficult at times, and I still have some pain in my neck when it rains, I’m pretty much all better. After our rooftop date, I went home with Finn and pretty much never left. At first, it was all under the guise that I still need to help with getting better, my parents had to go back home and Lila had to go to work. But after a few weeks, it was because we both wanted it that way. Every time I thought that I was overstaying my welcome, Finn would convince me that I wasn’t. He’d ask me to stay for a few days more. After a while, I just moved all of my things in and we were living together.
Over the last two years, we moved to Malibu, Finn won an Independent Spirit Award for the movie that we had worked on together and became People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive. I started my own wardrobe styling business and just landed a big account with Universal. Three medium-budget movies! On my request, we kept our relationship pretty private, and because I’m not famous, the paparazzi have pretty much left us alone. But occasionally, I do see pictures of myself in US Weekly, shopping at Trader Joe’s in sweats. I rarely look good, and I’ve learned to avoid those magazines altogether.
Last year for our one-year anniversary, Finn and I both had to work (him in Norway and me in LA), and we had to celebrate the day over FaceTime. So, when this one was coming up, he said that he had planned something extra special, but it’s a surprise. Finn isn’t really the super romantic sort, but I still have no idea what to expect.
“Where are we going? Can you at least tell me that?” I turn to him in the back of the limousine.
“That would ruin the surprise.”
“Why can’t I at least take this off?” I ask, referring to the silk blindfold around my eyes. I don’t know anything about this, except that I should wear a dress and bring a jacket and a scarf. As a wardrobe stylist, I find it particularly annoying getting dressed for a surprise event. A dress and a jacket and a scarf? In the middle of a Southern California summer?
I’m not sure if I should wear something too dressy or too casual, so I finally settle on a short, light blue dress with pockets and a tailored waist. It can really go either way. With heels, it’s a good fit for a fancy restaurant and, in flats, it’s a good option for the beach. I bring a pair of flats, just in case, a tightly-fitted black jacket, and translucent chiffon scarf.
When we arrive at our destination, Finn suggests that maybe flats are in order. I change my shoes, and he helps me out of the limo. We walk for a few minutes over soft grass.
“Good call on the flats,” I say.
“Okay,” Finn stops me. “I’m going to take off the blindfold now.”
We’re standing on a paddock, and there’s a giant yellow hot air balloon tied up next to us.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, unable to contain my excitement. “I’ve always wanted to go on a hot air balloon ride!”
“I know,” he smiles in that coy way that makes me swoon. “That’s why we’re here.”
A few minutes later, we are flying high above the fields of Temecula, the wine region of Southern California. The view is absolutely breathtaking. Rolling hills, vast horizons, patches of green and yellow for as far as the eye can see.
“This is magical,” I whisper, holding on to Finn as tightly as I can.
“No, you are,” he says.
I turn to face him. A few strands of hair fall into his face. His eyes twinkle in the sunlight.
“Thank you,” I say. “This is the best anniversary present ever.”
“There’s something else,” he says after a moment of gazing into my eyes.
Suddenly, his face grows more serious. Contemplative. For a second, it feels like something is wrong, but then he reaches into the front pocket of his grey suit jacket and pulls out a tiny little box.
I look at it. No. No, this can’t be what I think it is. Can it?
“Chloe, you have completely changed my life. You have made me into someone who loves life. You have made me a better man. You have taught me what love is, and for that I can never thank you enough. Every day I feel myself falling more and more in love with you. I cannot imagine my life without you.”
Finn gets down on one knee and opens the ring box. Inside, there’s a large halo diamond ring with little sparkling diamonds all around the sides.
My heart starts to beat faster and faster. The world spins all around me. It’s difficult to tell whether it’s me or the balloon.
“Will you marry me?”
I look into his eyes. We haven’t talked about marriage at all. This is the last thing I ever expected, but there’s only one answer to his question.
“Yes,” I whisper and wrap my arms around him.
“Yes? Yes? Yes?” Finn asks over and over. It’s as if he can’t believe it. I can’t really believe it myself.
When I look up into his eyes again, Finn has never looked this happy. He pulls me closer to him. I close my eyes. When our lips collide, the entire world becomes a blur. Life is an adventure, and he’s is the only person I want to take on my adventure.
Kiss, but Don’t Tell
When April needs a date to her ex-fiance's engagement party, her friend sets her up with an escort. No sex. No strings attached. Just a hot guy who is paid to adore her for a weekend. What could go wrong?
Grant is a multi-millionaire and an escort. He doesn't do this for money. He can get any woman he wants, but he likes a challenge. You wouldn't think it, but women who pay for sex are so much more of a challenge. They aren’t paying just for sex, they're paying for an experience. They want to be wowed and adored and pleased. And Grant specializes in all that.
At first, Grant thinks that April is just like the rest of his cli
ents: curvy girl on the wrong side of 20 in desperate need of a mouth-watering date. But April doesn't want sex and she doesn't seem to want him at all. And Grant finds himself falling for someone for the first time ever…
**WARNING: Steamy scenes, NO Cheating, HEA!
1
Grant
Rebecca always strutted after our little visits, walking like a proud cat sashaying and swaying. Pushing her hair behind her ear, I gave one last kiss good bye. It smelled just like the lilac in her bed sheets and coconut. Her skin was warm from the sun and made the whites of her eyes pop. She was incredible for her age.
“That tan is doing wonders for you.” I told her, unlocking my Porsche as we stepped out of the French doors and down the slate stairs to the driveway.
“Let’s hope that it takes more years off than it puts on later,” she joked, showing her barely visible crow’s feet as she smiled. “I can’t turn 29 for a 15th year in a row.” Rebecca combed the other side of her thick black hair behind her ears. She led me down the steps by her elbow and then slapped me playfully on the butt as I left, almost as if to say “good game”. Her spirit was so young and playful, it made me sad that she was only a client sometimes. Then I would remember how insane she went during her divorce. It’s better this way.
“Looks like you’ll have to be 30 then. Lots of gorgeous women hit their stride in their thirties.” I slid into the front seat of my car and began driving over the long stretch of driveway that separated her mansion from the road. I made a mental note to pick up a few flowers for her birthday next time I saw her. I’m sure that I would either make it to the guest list for her party or I would be the after party she had planned for herself.
My phone dinged that it received the funds from Rebecca, my favorite client. Her husband didn’t know the great thing that he gave up. She was always a little more fun in bed than the others and she was more than willing to give me high praise. If I had a dollar for every time she told me I was better in bed than her ex I could probably buy a second car, maybe even buy a vacation home in the Virgin Islands.
The 30-minute drive from her house in Henderson to mine in Vegas was nice for reflecting. The sun setting in the sky didn’t compare to the one that we saw over the weekend. I would have to travel back again.
I often think about how I’ll avoid my parent’s watchful eye, thinking up excuses for missing calls or texts. I always had to play just out of reach while still talking to them every so often. It’s not that I don’t like them, I just don’t care for the way they yak in my ear, always nagging about me changing the way I work, having to listen to the “why can’t you be more like your brothers” and other blah blah blahs. They cry that I should become a day trader again and put my degree to use, but I have enough experience in that to make money off the other day traders in my hedge fund. I always tell them that they shouldn’t have raised me in Vegas if they wanted a respectable son. They don’t think it’s funny, and maybe it isn’t meant to be. Maybe they should just appreciate the irony. They saw more problems with my life than there was. I was just happy to be happy.
Unluckily for me, they got three other sons that can put me to shame. I am always being measured up to them, and if I have to hear one more time about their accomplishments I will flip my lid. You think that they would have given up nagging me after high school, and then after that wasn’t good enough maybe after college. I considered going to grad school to see if that was the finish line of the complaints. Finally I have decided that parents never stop parenting and they will always be somewhat disappointed in who I am, or rather who I am not: a business tycoon.
I don’t do what I do for money, anyway. I do it for me. I was never really one to stick with interests in high school and college. I dabbled in almost everything and made a lot of friends on the way in each club, but I never really got hooked on anything in particular. You do things, practice, get good at them, and then what? Nothing. Well, there is one thing that it is nice to be good at. That’s why I like being an escort. Each woman is different. Some like it rougher, and then there are some that need to be treated like tissue paper. Each client is different and I am very proud with how successful I am.
I can see my tan in the mirror from our getaway weekend to Mexico. Spending two days there put 20 grand in my bank account. Not half bad if you ask me. I keep my prices high to sort the pearls from the clams in this business. If I charged anything less than what I currently charge I could get mange or Black Death or cooties or something. It costs a pretty penny to be with me for a very good reason. It assured both skill and quality to my clients and reassured me that I was getting the very same back.
Pulling past the gate, I know there is only 5 minutes until I am officially home. They put so many speed bumps in a gated community to discourage people from driving around. It works pretty well, most of my neighbors have switched to bikes so their cars don’t have to learn Braille in order to commute to work. There are certain things that you have to deal with when living in a ritzy part of the town of sin.
Really the longest part of getting home is the ride in the elevator up to my room. The penthouse is a billion floors up and there are several stops on the way between floors. People always forget this part in the movies, the downside with the glam. I have met a few clients in the past by hanging around the casino in the bottom. Since it’s my dad’s, all I have to do is get them a couple drinks on the house, slide my card over, and saying my line: “Your first win was getting this card, the next will be in that casino, and your third will be using my card with your new funds.” It’s cheesy and dumb, but that’s Vegas. This is the light and the life that people come for.
Most of the people that work in this building feel one of two ways about me, they hate me or they love me. Some of that comes with me being the boss of them, the other part of their feelings has to do with me being the boss of me. No one likes playing by the rules, not even me. Fortunately for me, I’m not the one that has to worry about a pay check here.
The life of the bachelor was very different from what TV shows had made me believe. The day time can be fun, especially with my job, but the nights were very lonely. I could come home with women from bars, but I hadn’t had a meaningful female companion in a long long time. Even just a friend would be nice, but I was surrounded by males. I think that since girls see that I’m sort of a smooth talker they think they can’t trust me. They see this pretty boy exterior, but I really have more going on than just looks. I want to know someone. I want to feel like a kid again. Being an adult could be very boring. I’ll save up all my escort money for a time machine.
2
Grant
Here is where I decompress. After all the stressors of the world and people, I can come here and be sure that all things are the same, that I am safe from my parents, and that I can listen to my music as loud as I want, which is exactly what I did.
I flip on the stereo system as I walk in and grab a water bottle. This is part of the routine. In order to keep this body in shape staying hydrated is a must. You lose a lot of body fluids in the escort business, and that is the most vital part of being a human.
So checking my email regularly is a must in this business of service. “It’s a business doing pleasure” is my motto. I take this as seriously as a doctor takes heart or brain surgery. I have to be thorough and efficient in order to keep my “I’m doing this for me” mindset. That’s what my ego rides on, which is dumb and vain but sometimes it pays to be vain.
My first email is from my friend Alex and it’s marked urgent, which sends up two red flags. The first one is “Why is my gay friend using my escort email to contact me?” and “Why is it urgent?” I have a very open mind set, but not enough to let my good buddy pay for a night with me.
* * *
Grant,
You’ve gotta help me. I’ve got a lonely girl who needs you as an accessory to her at her ex-fiance’s engagement party. It’s Travis’ roommate, and it would be doing me a solid.
> Alex
* * *
It was sent one minute ago, so I decided to text him back that I would take the deal, I just needed to know how long I would be needed for. I met Alex in a very similar way to this. It isn’t uncommon for young women to need a man to be a date for them. A large price to pay to rub it in the face of an ex, I guess. Alex was best friends with a girl who needed a date to a charity dinner, and we sat at a table together. There were many things he and I agreed on, and from there it has blossomed into a close and trusting relationship. He goes to the gym just as much as me and is around woman the same amount of time. If I were gay, maybe he would be the perfect guy for me, but for now Travis is filling those shoes.
Travis is also very cool. He is similar to both me and Alex, so I give him my approval. I haven’t met him many times, since him and Alex aren’t technically dating, they are just seeing each other with plenty of sex peppered in between interactions. I imagine they have a similar sex life to me, just with a lot less contract signing and credit cards scanning.
“A few days, not sure exactly how many. And her family will be there too.”
“That all sounds fine.”
“The only thing is, she is going through sort of a tough time, some kind of accident or something, I’m not sure what, I can get more details from Travis. He says that she won’t be able to pay your usual rates.”
Auctioned to Him 7: The Contract Page 77