I watched her for a second as she came back from what appeared to be a heavenly place. ‘I’m not sure I’m fully with you. You mean, like a bio? His background history, where he grew up? What possible childhood trauma led him to follow a career into escorting?’
She laughed a little. ‘I’d be interested to know how he fell into the work, yes.’
‘Isn’t that a little…been there, done that?’ I replied, keeping her stare to show her my annoyance. I knew I could write a compelling piece, one I could really get my teeth into, but a story about a male escort felt dull and lifeless. A story to titillate rather than provoke meaningful discussion and turn stereotypes upside down. ‘It feels a little…juvenile.’
‘Stacey, we specialise in creating sex positions artfully created by manipulating Barbie and Ken dolls and photographing them to feature in the magazine each month. If you feel this is juvenile, I suggest this isn’t the right working environment for you.’
After picking my chin off the floor, I cleared my throat, cricked my neck from side to side, and took a deep breath. ‘But—’
‘No, Stacey. That’s my position. I want a story about him.’
‘Fine,’ I said through a false smile. ‘The focus of the article will be Matt. Male escort extraordinaire.’
‘I’m glad we’re on the same page.’ I almost made a quip about the page being my P45, but thought better of it. ‘So, when are you arranging the date?’
‘Sorry?’ I said, choking on nothing apart from her question.
‘This is an article about a male escort, is it not?’ I nodded in fury. This article wasn’t my vision, and I felt professionally small and worthless. I also didn’t want to label the other complication that I was having trouble not picturing Matt naked. ‘Then, isn’t it a good idea to experience it as fully as possible?’
She said experience like she was having trouble pronouncing the word. I noticed she couldn’t look me in the eye as her mouth made its way around the syllables. ‘I think it would make a great story.’ She held her hands up, moved them apart. ‘My date with a male escort.’
I knew this was coming. I wasn’t stupid enough to think I could get away with a few interview sessions in a café. But going on a date was one thing, having the full experience was another. And he was naked in my brain! I wasn’t sure if Matt was correct in thinking Anna wanted a wordy recount of the sex aspect of his work, so I decided to test the water.
‘It would make a great story,’ I replied. ‘After all, I’m single and he’s hot. There’s nothing stopping me from hiring him out for the night.’ I wiggled my eyebrows. ‘Sample the goods, if you know what I mean. Give him a TripAdvisor-style review at the end of the article. “Five stars for Mr Shaw. He hit the jackpot with cleanliness, customer satisfaction, and overall experience.”’
‘Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel I’m forcing you into this.’
I thought I was joking. I was almost sure I was, but when Anna spoke, I believe I may have swallowed my own tongue.
‘Are you kidding me!’ I shrieked. Anna pushed back her chair a little, glancing at the door for security or a clear exit. I leaned in and lowered my voice. ‘You want me to have sex with him?’
‘I’m not saying that,’ she said through bubbly laughter designed to make the serious lighthearted. ‘I’m saying meet him. Go out on a date. Get the male escort treatment and…leave it open for anything else.’ Her shrug was loaded with more. ‘See where the night takes you. He seems like a nice guy, and you said yourself…he’s hot.’ She started fanning her face. ‘Phewy, is he hot.’
I watched her sit back in the chair and wondered if I was having an out-of-body experience. My boss had just given me the green light to have sex with a male escort, all for a women’s magazine article. I made a mental note to check the Human Resource regulations. Surely there would be something in small print about the do’s and don’ts of encouraging employees’ sexual relations.
‘I want to make it very clear that I am in no way saying you have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with,’ she said, pursing her lips. ‘But if things happen to go that way…so be it. No judging here.’
‘What about my colleagues and…shit, my family and friends?’ I hadn’t thought about the impact admitting to and writing about sleeping with a male escort could have.
‘Forget your colleagues. I could threaten most of them with outing their sexual escapades at office parties over the years. They forget we have security cameras.’ She pointed to one blinking in the corner. ‘Very messy affair in the photocopy room, let me tell you. Had to get the damn thing disinfected the following morning.’
I pulled a horrified face that she found amusing.
‘People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.’ She laughed. ‘As for family, friends...only you know how they will react.’
I wanted to say they’ll think it’s another bizarre Stacey Clifton situation that only I seem to find myself in. Skye would give me a high five, Will would roll his eyes, and my mother would offer me a cup of tea and say, ‘Good on you, girl.’ In other words, they wouldn’t care and would still love me just the same.
‘I’ll arrange to interview him and then arrange a date,’ I replied as Anna smiled. ‘I’ll leave it open from there and see what happens.’
‘Again, no pressure from my side.’ She held up her hands. ‘Just write me a great article, which I know you can do standing on your head.’
‘Is that going to be the next position of the month?’
‘No but try it out with Matt and let me know how it goes.’
* * *
I tapped my fingers across my MacBook and tried to gain some clarity before I picked up the phone. The article had changed focus, had moved away from my original intention of highlighting the stories of the women who use male escorts. Matt, specifically. I was still of the mind that their stories should be normalised and applauded. I was beginning to understand these women were brave because I couldn’t even pick up the phone to call him, let alone hire a hotel room and let him see my lady parts.
His number stared at me and I wanted to run my pen over it so that I could say, ‘Oops, lost it, now I need to write an article on cute sweatshirts to see you through the winter months.’ But Stacey Clifton wasn’t a lightweight. In my last year of school, I was voted Person Most Likely to Succeed. I achieved all my Brownie badges and I had an ID badge that gave me entry to this building, confirming, beyond all doubt, that I was indeed a journalist.
Pick up the phone!
‘Hello?’
‘Hi, is that Matt?’
‘Hey, Stacey. How are you?’ His voice was like velvet chocolate dripping over cream cakes. In other words, decadent heaven.
‘Good. I’m good. Listen, are you still free to meet me before you go—to get all sweaty and wet as you work on the body of granite that you tone with exotic sexual positions and almighty thrusts—to the gym?’
‘Actually, I’m not far from your office. I stopped to get a bite to eat at the coffee shop a few doors down. Fancy meeting me there? I’ll buy you a coffee, my treat.’
He was a coffee-buying-swoon-eliciting-hunk-of-gorgeousness. Sigh.
‘That sounds—wonderful, amazing, get in my girlie bits now!—fab.’
‘I’ll look out for you.’
‘Thanks. See you in ten.’
Oh my God, I’m really doing this. I’m meeting a male escort and I’m going to ask him for a date. Sex may follow and probably will!
Will was right. I really do find myself in the most bizarre situations.
7
Matt
‘Oh, my goodness, it’s cold,’ Stacey said as she breezed through with her bouncy red hair and immediate warmth. I’d looked out for her and she smiled the whole way when she found me holding the door open. All kinds of smiles. Shy, with a hint of coy, embarrassed, open, mischievous, happy. It was in that moment I realised she encouraged smiles as much as she displayed them.
‘
I wish I’d put tights on, but they wouldn’t have gone with this outfit, and I hate those skin-coloured ones.’ She grimaced but it was quickly replaced with another smile. This time, it was flirty, held under her teeth to stop it spreading.
I looked down at her legs and nodded my head. ‘Definitely no tights, but shiny legs. How do you manage that?’
‘Moisturiser is my best friend. I pile it on after a shower and I find that it really helps to keep things—’ She looked up at me and laughed. ‘Why am I telling you this?’
I sat down on the comfy sofa by the window and to my surprise, she sat beside me. Her legs were loose. Free of tights. Long and soft. I wanted to trail my hands down them just to test the moisturiser theory and tell her it appeared to be working.
‘Hi, Rick.’ She looked up to the guy holding a small pad and pencil, an apron tied around his waist and a shit-eating grin on his face.
‘Hi, Stace. How are you?’
‘Pretty good,’ she replied. ‘You?’
‘All good for seeing you, sweetheart.’
‘Hi, Stace!’ A girl emerged from the kitchen and stuck up her hand.
‘Hey, Mia. How are things?’ she said, waving. ‘Haven’t seen you in ages.’
‘I know. I got the dreaded flu but I’m fine now.’
‘Oh, hun. Listen, I take Vitamin C every morning. Get yourself some. Promise me.’ She was distracted by a lady at the counter frantically searching through her purse for change. She was tutting and shaking her head. Stacey frowned. ‘Oh, I don’t think she has enough money. Hold on. One second.’
She watched her frantically search her pockets before going over to her. Stacey gently placed her hand on her shoulder before pulling out a five pound note from the pocket of her shorts. ‘Here you go,’ she said, handing it over to the woman. ‘Can’t have you panicking.’
‘Oh, thank you so much,’ she replied, her anxiety clear. ‘I wasn’t sure what I was going to do.’
‘No problem,’ Stacey replied, smile shining. ‘Consider it my treat.’
‘You’re an angel, sweetheart,’ the woman said.
Stacey stayed chatting to her, genuine interest shining through her face. She asked where she was going to next, worried she didn’t have enough money to get herself home. The woman opened herself up to her. Easily. Life story and all. During their exchange, Stacey learned she was a widowed mother of four, her children were all working abroad, and she was living in a council flat in Hackney. She nodded, smiled, and asked questions the whole time. After paying for a slice of Victoria sponge to take home for later, and an offer of keeping the change for the bus fare home, the woman hugged Stacey and left happy.
I’d just witnessed a super hero in action.
‘Bless her,’ she said, returning to the table.
‘You’re lovely,’ I replied. I couldn’t stop myself. She was Humanitarian Woman without the cape.
‘Stop it,’ she chastised as she put her hand on Rick’s shoulder, who was also watching her with fascination. A sleepy smile on his face, one of pure infatuation.
‘Do you want your usual?’ he asked, hanging onto every Stacey moment—like me—as she sat down again. She smelt good, fresh and flowery. I started to imagine her moisturising her legs naked after a shower.
‘Erm…no, actually. I’d love a hot chocolate, but can I have skinny milk, half a teaspoon of sugar, and a splash of caramel flavouring. Oh, but the low sugar type. Ooh, and can you add cold water to it? Just a tiny bit because I don’t like it too hot, and that just offsets things. Am I making sense, or have I confused you?’ She tipped her head as she waited for his response. Cute with bells on.
‘Yes, you have confused him,’ I replied, laughing She was like a redheaded whirlwind and the more time I spent in her company, the more I found myself liking her. ‘I’ll have a coffee as it comes, please.’
‘That’s boring,’ she said, holding out her hands. ‘You’re accepting a mediocre coffee because everyone likes it a specific way but are too polite to say so. Tell Rick how you want it, exactly to your taste. If working in my best friend’s café has taught me anything, it’s that you need to cater to the exact in order to have a happy customer. You need to be living the coffee dream, Matt. Tell him what you want.’
I could have listened to her speak for hours. That Essex twang had never been sexier. It made her bubbly and warm and instantly likeable. The guy, Rick, taking our order was testament to that. He was still staring at her with a grin on his face. I was a second away from telling him to retreat back to the kitchen and never come back. I’d never been a possessive man, not with any of my previous girlfriends. But an hour after meeting Stacey, I was ready to launch him through the two-way door.
‘OK, Rick,’ saying his name through my teeth. ‘I’d like a coffee with plenty of milk, almost tea-like in colour. Two and a half sugars. I’d like you to put it down in front of me in a clockwise motion. Handle to the door.’
I felt her hand on my arm and the beautiful sound of her laughter.
‘I’m glad you’re embracing this,’ she said, smiling. Her hand was still on my arm and I almost placed mine over hers just to keep it there, until Rick spoke and broke our connection.
Damn you, Rick.
‘I’ll bring a sugar bowl, a jug of milk, and some cold water,’ he said, winking at Stacey. ‘Will that do?’
‘I would have liked you to make it to our specifications, Rick, but that will do.’ He walked away, laughing, and I started to realise everyone she came into contact with did the same. ‘What a lovely guy.’
‘Smashing,’ I deadpanned. ‘Friend of yours?’
‘Oh. Yeah. I come in here a lot. I get the munchies at eleven. I can’t survive a morning without a latte and a flapjack...sometimes a muffin.’ She looked over to a guy who had just walked through the door and waved at him. I laughed, almost barking out a noise I couldn’t restrain, and she wrinkled her nose. ‘What?’
‘Do you know everyone?’
‘I don’t think so,’ she replied, knitting her eyebrows together.
‘I’ve never known a Londoner be so friendly.’
She shrugged. ‘I like people. Life can be lonely enough without putting on the social blinkers.’
‘Sorry?’
She put her hands to her head, against her eyes. ‘Social blinkers. Eyes down, don’t make eye contact. Avoid, avoid, avoid.’ She shook her head. ‘Awful. I can’t live my life like that. I need some kind of human interaction. I like to help, speak to someone that may not speak to anyone else for the rest of the day, pay for someone’s tea or coffee when they run out of change. It makes me feel good.’
‘You’re unbelievable,’ I replied, unable to look away. I was captivated, watching her just be Stacey. Did she talk to everyone in this huge city? Speak to them like they’re her neighbours? Offer her time and graces? Of course she did, and they loved her for it. She shone. She was breathtaking. That beautiful hair of hers that fell over her familiar eyes. Familiar in the sense that you felt like you’d known her your whole life. Since walking into this café, it was like a light had been switched on, the first rays of sunshine you’d been longing for after the dark winter months. She completely exuded warmth. Man, I’d love to get warm with her. Snuggle right in, and there was a word I thought I’d never use.
Snuggle?
‘Don’t be daft,’ she replied, smiling. Her nose crinkles deepened and I had a hard time stopping myself from touching them. ‘It’s perfectly normal behaviour that other people appear to have forgotten.’
‘That’s a shame.’
‘Isn’t it?’ she replied, watching me, turning quiet, serious.
What was she thinking?
‘You wanted to meet me,’ I said, my voice low, my attention focused on her.
‘I did, didn’t I?’ Her chest was rising and falling in quick succession. Her hand framed her face and made me notice her freckles. Cute. ‘I’m glad I caught you,’ she said, crossing her long legs.
Fuck.
She was going to make this hard for me. Or something, anyway. I almost lost focus when she put her hand on my knee.
‘I’ve spoken to Anna and we’ve both agreed on the direction we’re going to take.’ She cleared her throat and dropped her eyes. I watched as she smoothed down her hair nervously and shifted a little. This turn in mood made me wonder if what she was going to say would not be what I wanted to hear. ‘She would like the article to focus on you.’ The way she enunciated the word made it clear Stacey didn’t feel the same way.
‘Oh.’ That was it. That was all I managed to get out.
‘A “night with a male escort” type of article.’
‘Oh.’
Oh.
‘If it’s OK with you, I’d like to arrange a date,’ she said, smiling, but gripping her neck like her life depended on it. ‘Get as close to the full experience as I can get.’
‘Right,’ I replied, unsure what that really meant. She seemed tentative, but the smile remained.
‘There may be a follow-up article more in the direction of where I was hoping to go.’ She was disappointed, I could tell. ‘I’ll try to work my original ideas into the article somewhere.’
‘You’d interview my clients?’ I asked, hopeful. I wanted this article to focus on their stories, not mine.
‘Yes, that’s the plan.’
‘OK. That’s…err…well.’
‘Disappointing, I know.’ She flung her arms around her head and peeked at me from under them. ‘I’m sorry, I really wanted this to be more of an “empowering women” kind of article, and I know you were hoping to blow away the stereotypes of who those women are, but Anna would like us to focus on you for the Valentine’s day edition.’
‘What does she want to know?’ I asked, suddenly feeling a little cheated. Anna had made a series of promises over the phone, which she appeared to have casually forgotten about. Did I still want to do this? I was clear that the article had to have a human side. I didn’t want it to be cheesy or drowned in sexual innuendos.
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