One Night Only

by Stewart, Lynsey M.

  Choking profusely, I covered my mouth with my hand and started wafting him out again.

  ‘Not too big or small. Perfect.’ Another thumbs-up. ‘See you soon, Mr Shaw.’

  ‘It’s Matt. See you soon, Stash.’

  Oh, my life. Why did he have to be adorable and an escort?

  5

  Matt

  ‘Not too big or small. Perfect. See you soon, Mr Shaw.’

  ‘It’s Matt. See you soon. Stash.’

  Why did she have to be adorable and a journalist?

  I started making my way from the conference room and through the open plan offices of Upfront, where I’d unbelievably found myself talking about my life as a male escort. What the effing fuck was I doing? I turned around and Stacey was still standing there, one arm up on the doorframe, totally checking me out. That dreamy smile on her face didn’t hide that she liked what she saw. I smiled a little, lifting my hand in thanks. She giggled, doing that cute pressing her curled fingers to her nose thing.

  I hadn’t expected to find myself meeting with the gorgeous red-haired journalist, with a presence so big she had trouble fitting into the conference room. I’d spoken to a woman called Anna on the phone, who sounded like she was two cigarettes away from Kathleen Turner. She had a knack for talking you into the fucking ridiculous, and images of naked photoshoots and sex Q&A hotlines stopped me from sleeping for the last week. A part of me sighed in relief when she explained she would no longer be holding the interview. The other part of me stood up to attention when Stacey’s green eyes focused on mine.

  I’d never met anyone like her. Her flame hair fell in perfect waves around her shoulders. She was wearing a top the exact same colour of her eyes, which only made them stand out more. A weird, skirt-shorts combo which, if I had the opportunity to take them off, would have no idea where to start. Believe me, I’d given it lots of thought. They were bright orange with reds and yellows, like a piece of Aztec art that fell just where I hoped they would when she sat beside me, to her skin above the knee. Soft deliciousness. Tan heeled boots sealed off the I-want-to-run-my-hands-down-your-legs-because-they’re-amazing look. Long and lean. I could seriously think about placing my tongue there, kissing behind her ankle.

  But there was something more to Stacey, in her eyes, her face. An openness. Warmth. Someone you could talk to without fear of being judged. The type of person you knew wouldn’t allow awkward silences because she’d cram them with funny stories that never felt forced. Her smile was infectious, wide and unabashed. She’d throw her head back and cover her nose to rein herself in again. It didn’t work. She capitulated herself out there. A thousand arrows to one target. She was captivating. From the scattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, to the way her hands held the pencil as she scribbled notes. I’d spotted that her notebook said ‘With our thoughts we make the world’ across the front, and I knew immediately she was the right person to take on my story.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder, pulling me out of the Stacey daydream I’d found myself in. ‘Matt?’

  That smile. Jesus.

  ‘Yes. Sorry,’ I replied, imagining the look on my face probably said, ‘Keep me here, talk some more. I love your brash accent and the easy smile.’

  ‘Can I just check your number before you go?’ she asked as she scooted over to her desk in the corner, just in front of the doors through to reception. ‘I’m finding it tricky to make sense of Anna’s handwriting. She’s so used to dictating, she’s forgotten how to shape letters and numbers.’

  Fuck me, you’re lovely. I leant in to see, catching her perfume. Something fruity and light. I wanted to smell it on my pillow, in my flat, on my clothes.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Is it your work phone?’

  ‘No, that’s my personal number,’ I replied. ‘I use a separate phone for my clients.’

  ‘You have a hotline?’ she said, arching her eyebrow. ‘How very Batman of you.’

  I laughed, couldn’t help it. She was beautiful and funny. Double trouble. ‘I even have a bat-signal. Helps me know when women are in distress.’

  ‘Do you?’ she asked, her eyes narrowed.

  Who was this woman?

  ‘No,’ I replied, unsure if she was serious until that fucking amazing smile appeared.

  ‘You fell for that.’ She laughed, touching my arm. I almost snatched her wrist and laced our fingers together, but then I remembered I’d known her all of thirty minutes and that kind of behaviour wasn’t called for or appropriate. Yet. ‘You’re going to be so easy to wind-up.’ If that blush to her cheeks told me anything, it was the opposite. ‘Just a sec.’

  She gestured to me again and I followed her on instinct. She leant down to grab something from underneath her desk I knew was hers because there was a photo of her wearing a large floppy sunhat, huge white-rimmed sunglasses, and that beaming smile that was like lightning. Electric and fascinating, but the power to be scary as all fuck. I shouldn’t be having these thoughts. I was here for work purposes only. I had the world’s worst job for holding down a steady girlfriend. Would she even consider going on a date with me? Would it be fair to ask?

  I couldn’t take my eyes off the photo. A guy was standing beside her, her arm thrown across his shoulders. I wanted to know who he was. A boyfriend? A friend. I was hoping for platonic. Gay would be even better. On her other side was a woman with bright pink waves and shaved on one side, who was leaning towards her. She was laughing in obvious reaction to something Stacey said, and I wanted to know what it was that caused such a natural reaction. A full-on belly laugh I could almost hear.

  Next to the frame was a photo of an English bulldog. I laughed lightly. Only a kickass woman owned a bulldog. Fuck, she was glorious and amazing, and I’d never had such a strong urge to kiss a woman before.

  ‘Here we go,’ she said, handing me a business card. She was still under the desk and her blouse/top thing had fallen open to reveal the white lace of her bra, and I didn’t know what I wanted to do with that image. Store it? Imagine it every time I closed my eyes? Yes and yes. ‘It would help if you had my number.’

  It certainly would.

  ‘Is this your hotline?’ I asked, taking the card from her. There was a tug of electricity between us and we both pulled away, studying our separate hands with interest. I tried to deflect from the what the fuck? moment we’d just shared. ‘How many other male escorts will be using this?’

  She opened her hand, palm up, staring at it like it was mirage and she was still trying to figure out if it was real. When she caught me looking, she pulled it back and hid it behind her waist.

  ‘I don’t cheat on my escorts,’ she replied, not missing a beat.

  ‘That’s a fantastic trait to have.’

  She was trying hard not to smile but it burst out of her and I loved that I could cause that surge. I was a man of many talents. I could recite the alphabet backwards, I was shit hot at whipping up a Sunday roast, and I was pretty good at scoring a try at rugby, but I didn’t care if I never hit the pitch again because causing Stacey’s wide smile and giggly laughter had taken the top spot. I was great at it and found myself determined to do it again.

  ‘If you have any questions about the article or…anything else, just give me a ring.’

  ‘Yeah. Same. If inspiration strikes and you need anything from me, just give me a call. I’m sure the more you plan, the more questions you’ll have,’ I said, taking note of a to-do list on her desk that said ‘positive vibes and all that shit.’

  ‘I already have questions,’ she said, throwing her bag under her desk. ‘How…available are you?’

  ‘Sorry?’ I didn’t want to confuse her meaning, but wondered if she’d already made a decision about having the full male escort experience and hoped an answer involved the letters Y, E, and S.

  ‘If I need to call or arrange to meet up for the interview,’ she clarified. ‘How many dates…jobs…women…do you see a week?’

  ‘Oh…right.
Well, it depends.’ I’d drop everything to see you. ‘Some weeks, it’s only a couple of nights but other times can be quite busy.’

  ‘I’m guessing…bank holidays and…Easter are popular?’ She squeezed her eyes shut, crinkling her nose as she dragged her hands through her gorgeous hair. ‘I mean…big holidays. Special events.’ I laughed and she followed. ‘I don’t know! I’ve never met an escort before. You could be banging ten women a night, for all I know!’

  ‘Twenty during Christmas week.’

  ‘Bloody hell!’ She covered her face with her hands. ‘This is going to be a nightmare.’ She laughed. ‘I know we’ve got banter going on here, Matt, but I would die if I offended you.’

  ‘Stacey, you couldn’t possibly offend me.’

  Because you don’t judge. You accept people on face value, make them feel at ease, and I couldn’t have asked for a better person to do this with.

  ‘I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,’ she said. ‘There may be questions where I’ll need to probe a little harder.’ Don’t respond to that. Innuendoes won’t help you now. ‘And if I decide I want to have the full experience, that could make things difficult between us.’ She sighed. ‘What I’m saying is, I want to remain professional, whatever decision I make.’

  She couldn’t have laid more honest cards out on the table. We had a full house and then some. Despite my cock telling me we were on, she’d gone and used the P word. I put her business card in my back pocket and nodded a few times for effect.

  ‘I totally understand,’ I replied. ‘We don’t need any blurred lines in a situation like this.’

  ‘No,’ she agreed, but the word was drawn out, like she was disappointed, or maybe I was just hoping for that.

  ‘Take your time planning this,’ I replied. ‘It has to feel right for you.’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘I’ll be interested to know more about the angle of the article.’

  ‘I’ll speak to you as soon as I have it agreed with Anna.’

  ‘It’s been great meeting you, Stacey.’ I held out my hand and she reached over to grab it, knocking over the photo of the deceptively cute bulldog. ‘Yours?’ I asked, pointing to the lopsided picture but angled the point wrong. She looked down at her boobs before her hand landed on her chest. The image of the curve of her bra entered my mind again. What was this woman doing to me?

  ‘Yeah,’ she replied, still clasping her boobs. ‘They’re mine. One hundred percent natural.’

  A smile spread across my face. I wanted to see more of her. I felt fucking annoyed she hadn’t been in my life before today because I knew she would make it instantly better just by being there.

  ‘I meant the dog,’ I replied softly, holding onto my laughter, but when she threw her head back in that Stacey way, I couldn’t help myself.

  ‘Oh God! I’m ridiculous! I thought you were pointing at my boobs!’ She picked up the overturned photo and stroked the chops of the most amazing looking dog ever. ‘And there I was, trying to be nice and reply to you. Bloody hell! What’s wrong with me?’ She scrunched her face and smiled. ‘Yes, he’s mine. Sorry for the confusion. He’s called Reg. Reggie,’ she said. ‘He’s named after one of the Kray twins.’

  ‘Of course he is.’ I laughed.

  ‘He looks like a Reg, don’t you think?’

  I wasn’t sure how to answer that. He was named after Reggie Kray, for Christ’s sake. Perhaps the downward scowl and underbite had a look of him?

  ‘Who’s talking boobs? It’s not my Stacey, is it?’ An older guy appeared from nowhere and he’d obviously been listening in. He walked around the desk to join Stacey, who screwed up her face when he went in to kiss her on the cheek.

  ‘Hello, Mr Gilmour. How are you?’ Stacey asked as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her smile was still there, but not quite as shiny.

  ‘All the better for seeing you,’ he replied, taking off his Panama hat. I glanced at the calendar on the wall, just to double check that we were still in January. ‘When are you coming for dinner again?’ He pointed his finger at her like a pistol. ‘Miss your company, lady.’ He turned to me and threw his head in her direction, dislodging his comb over. ‘She’s a sweetheart, this one.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ I replied, as Stacey twirled her bottom lip between her fingers.

  ‘And you are?’ He held his hand out, narrowing his eyes as I started to speak.

  ‘This is Matt,’ Stacey jumped in. ‘I’m writing an article about him.’

  ‘I see,’ he replied. ‘Couldn’t get a finer journalist.’

  ‘Except for maybe your…wife?’ Stacey mumbled.

  ‘Darling!’ he said as Anna came out of her office.

  ‘Mr Shaw, you’re still here, I see?’ I turned to Anna, her arms folded.

  ‘I was just leaving,’ I replied. ‘Stacey’s introduced me to Reg, so I’m all set.’ She eyed me suspiciously underneath her grey fringe. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing where Stacey’s going to take this.’

  My bed, and my life, hopefully.

  ‘Great,’ Anna said, clapping her hands firmly together. ‘Shall we meet in my office, Stacey? Neil won’t be here long. Isn’t that right, dear?’

  ‘Looks that way,’ Neil said, his voice brittle, like he was talking through gritted teeth. ‘Nothing like a warm welcome.’

  Anna ignored him. ‘I’d like to get the article planned in good time to feature in the Valentine’s edition.’

  ‘I’ll be there in a sec,’ Stacey replied. ‘Can I get you a coffee?’

  ‘Black,’ she replied as she disappeared into her office, Neil following behind her.

  ‘She’s everything I imagined her to be,’ I said, as Stacey blew out a breath. She leant down to the bottom drawer, the swells of her breasts taunting me again. ‘And so is her husband, funnily enough.’

  ‘Yeah,’ she replied, grimacing. ‘He’s taken a shine to me.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t he?’ She lifted her head, eyes wide as she carried on. I shouldn’t have said it, forgot myself. She seemed to have a knack of making me do that. ‘Have you had enough time to think the article through?’ I asked, sensing Stacey’s panic as she started rifling through her drawer, collecting various notebooks and pens.

  Avert your eyes. Focus on Reg.

  ‘Not exactly,’ she replied, sticking her tongue out in concentration as she reached right into the back. ‘I would have liked more.’

  ‘If you want to talk later, I can swing by the office.’

  ‘Before you meet a client?’ she asked, her eyebrows knitting together.

  ‘No,’ I replied. ‘Before I go to the gym.’

  ‘Oh. Right.’ She looked me up and down blatantly, obviously enjoying my shoulders because her eyes stopped as they reached them. ‘Good job with that, by the way.’ She gave me a thumbs-up and bit her lip to contain the smile. ‘Whatever you’re doing at the gym…it’s working.’

  Cue the adorable nose covering and that bubbling laughter of hers. I’d picked up that she used laughter a lot, naturally and on instinct. Soft, partly suppressed laughter to calm and reassure. Diffusing laughter to get people on her side or to break apart tricky situations. Social laughter to be pleasant, a light in the room, and genuine, spontaneous laughter—the one I liked the most—a little helpless, a lot contagious, and undeniably sexy.

  Why had I noticed all this about her?

  ‘I’ll look forward to hearing from you then,’ I said. ‘Soon, I hope.’

  She straightened up, wrapping her arms around herself before really looking at me. Not the man she’d met for the first time today, the object of an article, a male escort bringing all the stereotypes trailing behind him. No, she looked at me, Matt, the guy underneath it all, and there were huge parts of me that didn’t want her to stop looking at me the way she was now.

  6

  Stacey

  ‘Take a seat,’ Anna said, as I put her coffee on her desk. She gracefully floated down to her white leather chair. I, on the othe
r hand, slumped down in mine before my legs gave way. Horny-floaty-jellyesque legs were totally a thing and they did not help in the matters of keeping your body upright. ‘Well?’

  She peered at me from over her glasses, her cue that it was my time to speak.

  ‘He seems a very nice man, who is offering a service for the good of the…world…or, more specifically, women…or men. Actually, I’m not sure on men. I didn’t ask him that.’ Holy fudge. I made a note. Does he bang men? ‘I can, though. That will be my first question.’

  ‘Are you OK? You seem…flustered.’ I looked up and found her narrowed gaze directed to me. She placed her finger on her bottom lip, tapping it a few times.

  ‘Fine,’ I lied. ‘I just feel like I haven’t had time to think about where I’m going with the article yet.’

  ‘Do you want my take?’ she replied, crossing her legs.

  ‘No!’ I held up my hand urgently. I wanted this to be my story. My ideas. My take. After years of working my way up, I finally felt like I had the authority to have an opinion and make it work. ‘Can I give you mine first? I haven’t fleshed it out yet, but I’m thinking I’d love to put a different spin on the escort industry. There are real stories here. It isn’t about prostitution or kinky sex. It’s about women who have taken control of their sexuality. Virgins who want their first time to be amazing. Women who have lost the love of their lives but still want to feel womanly and desired. That’s powerful,’ I said, leaning into the desk.

  ‘With the Me Too movement and the importance of hearing women’s voices, I really think we should focus on their stories. Women taking control of their sexuality and enjoying consensual, amazing sex, purely for their own pleasure.’

  ‘No,’ Anna replied, firm and unflinching.

  I hunched onto my elbows and took a deep breath. ‘No?’

  ‘I want his story,’ she said, removing her glasses. They were tortoise shell and matched her heels. ‘You can follow up by interviewing some of the women who meet him regularly and what they get from it, but first’ —she put the end of her glasses in her mouth and closed her eyes. I grimaced as she presented what could only be described as her orgasm face—‘I want to know about him.’