‘We’d start with how you got into escorting—’
‘I’ve already told you that.’
‘A day in the life of. What the job consists of.’ I started smirking and she squeezed her eyes shut. ‘I know, this sounds completely rubbish.’
‘It sounds dull,’ I replied. ‘My life really isn’t very exciting.’
‘Our readers won’t think that,’ she replied, arching an eyebrow. And that’s what I was afraid of.
‘I don’t want this to be all about sex.’
‘It has to be part of it,’ she said, her hand dropping leisurely to my thigh. ‘But not the biggest part.’ I laughed again and she covered her mouth with her hand. ‘Christ, I didn’t mean…that.’ She nodded to my groin. ‘Bloody hell, this is going to be a nightmare.’
‘Does Anna know you’re not going to focus on the sex?’ I asked as Rick brought our order.
‘Thanks, hun. Stellar job, as always,’ she said, I passed Stacey her very important milk, sugar, and cold water. ‘Not exactly.’
‘You haven’t told her your idea?’ I asked.
‘Kind of,’ she replied, mixing everything in. Cold water first, milk, then sugar. She smiled in pleasure as she took a sip.
‘Good?’ I asked, wanting to see that face again.
‘Amazing,’ she replied, a breathy tone that travelled straight to the places it shouldn’t. This was going to be complicated enough without adding feelings to it.
‘Stacey, I thought we were on the same wavelength.’ She looked at me with wide eyes. Fuck, she was gorgeous, but this was ridiculous and dangerous and so fucking tricky. She was writing an article, may even go through with spending the night with me, and here I was, thinking she would be easy to fall in love with. Stop being ridiculous. ‘I’m not sure I want to be part of this if it’s going to ridicule what I do, or make it seedy.’
Her head shot around, her face panicked. ‘I would never—’
‘No, but it sounds like that’s what Anna wants.’
‘I have to follow what she says, she’s my editor, but that doesn’t mean I can’t mix things in that will make it more human.’
‘Like?’
‘Who your client base is. What’s important to you when you’re on a date. How you make women feel about themselves.’
She hid her mouth behind her cup but glanced at me from over the top of it. A blush formed around the curve of her cheeks and she giggled a little in embarrassment, but her eyes never left mine. I was so close to her. A hand to her face, a pull towards me, and we could be mouth on mouth, building a path towards sharing our first kiss. I’d never wanted a first kiss more. I noticed four freckles across her cheeks were bigger than the others. I thought about tracking them with my finger, counting them, remembering the cute formation. She bit her lip.
‘I want to know why they want to meet with you to spend such intimate time together. I want to know how high they feel about themselves when they leave. Do they feel empowered? Satisfied. Confident. Matt,’ she whispered, her breath skipping, eyes hooded and heavy, ‘how do you make them feel?’
‘I don’t want to talk about them.’ I leant in, so close. She bit her lip again, then stroked her neck in little circles that interested me. ‘I want to talk about you.’
I heard her gasp quietly. The beat in my chest was thudding with more force than normal. I hadn’t felt that thud in years, if I’d ever felt it all. It made me feel alive and human and wanted for all the right reasons.
‘You do?’ she asked, and as I moved closer, almost touching her mouth, I felt something on my knee. A vibration. The sound of a buzz. She looked at me in question before dropping her eyes, returning them to mine again comically. A fantastic smile spread wonderfully before she started to laugh.
‘Stacey?’
‘Yes?’
‘What is that?’
She pulled her bag from where it was between us on the sofa, unzipped it, and pulled out a bright pink…electric toothbrush.
‘You appear to have…turned my brush on,’ she said, waggling her eyebrows. ‘You really are a sex guru. You have magical sexual powers.’
I smiled because she seemed to make me want to do that constantly. ‘Why do you have an electric toothbrush in your bag? I asked. ‘You were hoping to get lucky with me, weren’t you? Tell me the truth.’
‘No, I wasn’t!’
‘Yep.’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘The thing is, Stace, I’m a sure thing.’
‘Don’t say that,’ she replied, her smile dropping for the first time.
‘Why?’ I asked, wondering why she was offended at the joke at my expense.
‘Because it takes everything that’s personal out of it.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Do you see every woman as a potential client?’
‘Of course not.’
‘That’s what I mean about taking out the personal. What about you, your love life, your relationships?’ She put her hand to her head, rubbed her forehead. ‘You’re human, Matt. Can you separate yourself from your job and your personal life?’ She shook her head as she put her fingers to her mouth. ‘I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. I have so many questions for you, I don’t know where to start.’
‘Are you trying to ask me what I would do if I met a beautiful woman who seemed to be an amazing person, down-to-earth, funny, kind. Someone who had all the qualities I’m looking for in a partner.’
You, Stacey.
‘Yes,’ she replied, hanging onto every word.
‘Would I take them to bed immediately because that’s what I do for my job?’
Her nose crinkles deepened as I held her gaze.
‘No,’ she replied. ‘I’m asking if you could you maintain a relationship and do the job at the same time?’
‘Why?’ Because you want to give it a go?
‘I’m interested.’ She smiled.
‘If I met someone I really liked, I’d do everything in my power to make it work.’
Stacey watched me for a second before taking her phone from her bag and placing it on the coffee table in front of us. ‘Do you mind if I start the interview? I should be noting all of this down,’ she said, ignoring my reply as professionalism fell into place. She slipped her hair behind her ear and started scribbling on a notepad.
‘Sure,’ I replied, settling back on the couch, moving away slightly to help her feel more comfortable.
‘I’ll record your answers too, if that’s OK?’ I nodded as she started the voice app.
‘Interview with Matthew Shaw, male escort.’ I cringed inside. ‘Article titled “My Night with a Male Escort…no, damn it…err…One Night with a Male Escort.’ She stopped the recording and started again. ‘Article titled One Night Only.’ She finally looked at me. ‘Matthew, can you tell me how long you’ve been escorting?’
‘Four months.’
‘And how did you get into…the profession?’
‘We’ve talked about this already,’ I said, not wanting to touch with a bargepole the subject and its realities
I wasn’t comfortable explaining. ‘Ex-girlfriend worked for an agency and I signed up.’
‘Yes, sorry,’ she replied, rubbing her forehead. ‘Can I explore what we were talking about before?’
‘Which bit?’
‘Girlfriends,’ she said, raising a perfect eyebrow that fanned out like luxurious velvet. ‘We’ve already said that maintaining a relationship must be hard, considering the job you do. Do you have girlfriends?’ She looked up, interested. Really interested.
‘No,’ I replied. ‘A girlfriend would find my job hard to understand. I wouldn’t expect many to stick around, considering what I do. I made the decision not to put someone in that position because it wouldn’t work.’
But I’d like to see if it could work with you.
‘Yes,’ she replied, her mouth open, her eyes narrowed. ‘I can imagine it’s hard to accept.’
‘Wha
t about you? Do you have boyfriends?’
‘This isn’t my interview.’
‘No, but I’d still like to know.’
‘Why?’
I laughed. ‘Because you interest me.’
‘Like a serial killer documentary on Netflix interests you?’
I thought for a second. ‘Not really.’ The noise of her laughter was welcome after we’d taken a decidedly serious turn. ‘Don’t change the subject.’ I leant in again. ‘Stacey, do you have a boyfriend?’
She studied me for a longer than she needed to, and I loved it. I imagined her taking in my features, noticing the little things about me that other people seemed to miss.
‘I don’t do well with men. I’m off relationships and concentrating on my career,’ she replied, like she’d rehearsed it. ‘Basically, I’m the training bra for men and I need a break.’
‘Say that again.’ I smiled.
Christ, she was wonderful.
‘You know, like a starter bra. The one that breaks you in before you move on to the better, more mature, bras.’
‘I’m not sure I’m following.’
‘I haven’t got a good track record with long-term relationships. It’s usually a few weeks and they move on. Trainer bra discarded and they’re on to sexy bras from Victoria’s Secret.’ She sighed. ‘My last boyfriend cheated.’
‘Men can be animals,’ I said, hating she saw herself this way but smiling at the Stacey comparison that worked in her head but didn’t seem to work in anyone else’s. ‘I hear so many bad stories from my clients. One woman said her daughter and her best friend had been on holiday to Ibiza. They both got lucky, but only had one condom. The guys suggested using it once, then rinsing it out in the sink.’ Stacey blew out her cheeks like she was going to vomit. ‘Thankfully, they chucked them out and went clubbing.’
‘Thank Christ for that,’ she said. ‘Grim.’
‘Fucking gross. Who would even think to do that? I don’t care how horny you are. Do. Not. Wash. Your. Condoms.’
‘Surefire way to kill the mood, surely?’ She laughed. ‘Here, let me just get my condom from the washing machine.’
‘Urgh. Women deserve better than that,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I like to think I’m showing women what men can really be like…should be like. Attentive. Kind.’
‘Good standards of hygiene. Fresh condoms. That type of thing?’
‘Exactly,’ I said, laughing.
‘Great in bed?’ She bit her lip and I smiled.
‘That too.’
‘Don’t you worry that you’re setting men up to fail?’
‘That really isn’t my problem.’
‘Or that you’re making women have ridiculously high expectations? Especially the ones who have no prior experience of relationships.’
‘No, I’m setting the standards women should expect. They should be a guy’s first priority in a relationship. I’m showing them they shouldn’t settle for anything less.’
‘How?’ she asked, turning more towards me. She rested her arm against the back of the couch. ‘Through sex?’
‘No. Sex is part of it, of course it is, but I make a woman feel like they matter. I listen to want they need. I show interest in their lives, their hobbies, what makes them tick. We talk, I hold their hand, give them eye contact, open doors for them, bring them flowers.’
‘I don’t like flowers,’ she replied. ‘I can’t be doing with the faff. Finding a vase, putting them in a vase, then they die, and you have to throw them away and clean the vase. I haven’t got time for that.’
Why wasn’t I surprised? ‘Chocolates, then.’
Just when I thought I couldn’t like her more, she threw out something else that made her unique and real.
‘Don’t you think gifts should be practical? Something useful. Things you forget to pick up at the supermarket and get really pissed off about when you get home to find you’ve forgotten. Like pan scrubbers or rubber gloves, dental floss and tampons.’
‘Not exactly romantic,’ I replied.
‘I would love you forever if you brought me…I don’t know. Plasters. My ankle keeps rubbing on these boots. Can I remember to get plasters? Not on your life. If you gave me a box of plasters, I would be buzzing.’
She sat back and smiled, like what she’d said was the most normal thing in the history of normal. That I wasn’t in a world where women wanted flowers, champagne, and chocolates, not plasters and rubber gloves. Part of me laughed at how quirky she was and another part of me craved her so much my body felt tight.
‘Anyway, you were talking about what women want. Obviously, not women like me, who want pan scrubbers instead of chocolates. I’d be a cheap date, wouldn’t I?’
I laughed easily. Thinking about dating her. Imagining normality. Going to the cinema to see a film I actually wanted to see. Agreeing to a cozy night in when I felt tired. Expectations of what she wanted from me would be low and easy. Not high and unachievable.
I crave you.
‘You’d be a cheap date, Stace, but I wouldn’t be.’
‘That’s true.’ Her smile dropped a little, like a thought she was avoiding had dropped back into her conscience.
‘I guess I do what’s considered old-fashioned but what I consider important.’
She leant forward, watching me like I was the most interesting thing in the world. ‘Like?’
‘I make them feel like the only woman in the room. I tell them they’re beautiful when they hide their body from me. I listen as they cry about their loss, and I do everything they wish their partner could do. There are many reasons why women hire me, and it’s usually so much more than sex.’
‘You make it sound very admirable,’ she said, pushing her hand through her hair. ‘Like a job that helps people, a counsellor or psychiatrist. What if a woman contacts you because they haven’t had any action in months and just want a great shag? No story, just sex.’
‘There’s always a story,’ I replied. ‘I’ve honestly never had a woman who wants a quick fuck.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ she said, smiling. ‘Have you seen yourself? You’re a fitty, Matt Shaw.’
‘Am I?’ I couldn’t stop the grin.
‘Yeah, you’re a sort.’
‘Thanks.’
‘You must get women who need magical unicorn sex, or a hen party out for a final fling.’
‘A couple of times, in the early days,’ I replied. ‘Not now. Maybe it’s because I’ve scaled back. I only have a handful of regular clients. I’m not in a position where I’m taking on new jobs. I don’t need to anymore.’
‘Why?’ she asked.
Argh. That question. Where would I start?
I needed the money desperately, had no other options left.
‘More coffee?’
‘Hold on there,’ Stacey said. ‘You changed the subject so quickly, I almost lost my breath.’ She held onto her chest and broke out into a smile. ‘Can I remind you that this is an interview, which generally means I ask questions and you get to answer them.’
‘I understand the process,’ I replied, sighing.
‘You keep telling me I need to feel comfortable with this. Be in control. Give full consent.’ She placed her hand on my arm. ‘I think you need to listen to your own advice.’
‘I’ll get there,’ I said, dropping my gaze.
Why did I hate being dishonest with her? We’d only just met. None of this made sense. She kept her smile but allowed my silence. I wondered what she was thinking when she drew in her mouth and tipped her head.
‘Is this your long-term career goal?’
I laughed at that. Fuck, no. ‘You mean, do I want to be doing this when I reach retirement age? No. Not in the slightest.’
‘What do you want to do?’ She was genuinely interested. This wasn’t a question for an article, she wanted to know.
‘I’m studying at Uni,’ I replied, unsure and nervous as fuck this wasn’t going to work out, and here I was naming it, ma
king it real and applying pressure. ‘I’m doing a Psychology degree and counselling diploma.’
She opened her mouth in mock surprise and grasped my arm, and I felt like the king of the world. She was the first person I’d told because I didn’t want people to rubbish it, tell me I was trying to reach the unachievable. Most of all, I didn’t want to fail and hear, ‘I told you so.’
‘That’s fantastic! What do you want to do when you qualify?’ I stared at her for a second, stunned she immediately assumed I had the capabilities to pass, and amazed she didn’t follow it up with a joke.
‘I’d love to be a relationship counsellor. Maybe offer sex advice. I don’t know. I just feel like I’ve got to know how people work doing this job, and I can…help.’
‘Is that why you’ve scaled back? Because of your studying commitments?’ she asked.
‘Yeah. I need more time to study, so I can’t do it as often as I used to, but I still need to pay for my course fees and to, you know, live.’ She smiled as she rested her head on her hand. ‘This job allows me to do that and have the time to study. If I had a nine-to-five office job, I couldn’t afford to do the course, let alone have time to attend classes.’
‘I see,’ she said thoughtfully, still in that wonderful relaxed pose. She was making this easy. Nerves were slipping away and for the first time in my life, I felt like I could tell her anything and wouldn’t be judged. ‘When do you finish?’
‘Three years. I’m saving what I can.’ I shrugged. ‘Who knows, maybe I can save enough to give up escorting before I qualify,’ I said. ‘So, in answer to your original question, this isn’t something I want to be doing for much longer.’
Why was I telling her things I’d never told anyone?
‘I’m glad you have a goal,’ she said, pushing her hair behind her ear, and I wanted to do it for her so badly, to feel the silky strands between my fingers. ‘This is all starting to make sense now. It’s a means to an end. Something you have to do in order to achieve something else.’
She got it.
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘And I’m learning a lot about people along the way. It helps my studies.’
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