‘What did you want to do?’
Save my family. Stop my father reaching for the bottle.
‘Play sports. Rugby was my passion. Still is.’ I shrugged.
‘Do you still play?’
‘Yeah. The Rycourt Foxes.’ She squeezed her mouth together in confusion. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of us.’
‘Can’t say I have.’
I thumped my chest with my fist. ‘Heart. Broken.’
‘To be fair, I’m not much of a rugby fan. Could change my mind if you tell me you play in those little white shorts. The ones that really grip the thigh.’ I raised my eyebrows, interested in where her mind was going. She took another sip of wine—gulped it in a more Stacey-like fashion. Big and chaotic. ‘Forget I said that.’
‘No way. That’s mine now.’ I made a catching motion with my hand and she grinned that amazing grin of hers. We both glanced to her phone as it started vibrating across the table, breaking the sexual tension like a hammer through ice. She smiled widely when she read ‘Skye’ was the person responsible for taking her away from me.
‘Can I take this?’ I nodded as she answered. ‘Hi.’
‘This is work and work only. You do not need this complication in your life. All relationships suck, especially ones with a male escort.’
Stacey’s eyes lifted to mine as she narrowed her lips. ‘Thanks for the reminder, Skye.’
‘How’s it going? Is he rogering you senseless yet, you lucky mare?’ I laughed as Stacey closed her eyes.
‘Skye?’
‘Yes, hun. Am I interrupting? Are you flat on your back with a hot guy between your legs?’
‘No, we’re at a restaurant, you’re currently on speaker phone, and he’s sitting right in front of me.’
‘Fuuuck.’ Skye suddenly went silent. ‘Hi, Mr…Male escort.’
‘Stop talking,’ Stacey replied with a small lift of her lips.
‘I’m so sorry.’ The line was muffled. ‘Ignore me. That was in bad taste.’
‘Hi, Skye,’ I said as she repeated apologies.
‘I’m turning you off,’ Stacey said, ironically exactly what Skye had done as she interrupted us. I wasn’t sure how to get back to the place we’d meandered to through the evening, but I was willing to try and revisit it.
Stacey ended the call, pushed her plate away, and splayed out on the table, banging her head repetitively. She looked up and scrunched her eyes closed again. ‘I can only apologise.’
‘No need.’ I smiled, watching her. Falling a little more.
‘Let me at least explain that Skye agreed to call me to check in on how things were going.’
‘And to remind you that all relationships suck…that this is work, and work only,’ I repeated, trying to pick through what conversation between the two of them had led to Skye’s assessment of our date. I smiled at the possibilities, but Stacey squashed her mouth to one corner.
‘And something about male escorts being complicated?’ I continued, still interested to know what she’d said to her friend. I was feeling something else too. Slightly hurt. But why? I purposefully chose not to have a girlfriend because of those damn complications.
‘Can we get back to the questions?’ she asked, twirling her ponytail again. Back to nerves and professionalism. She was caught in a daze now, blinking at me. Even her blink was wonderful.
‘Sure,’ I replied. ‘What else do you need to know?’
10
Stacey
‘Why the fuck did you have me on speakerphone?’ Skye said.
I rubbed my forehead and sighed. ‘It wasn’t intentional.’
‘Talk about cringe, Stace.’
‘Tell me about it. I was the one watching his face drop.’
‘Apart from my epic fail, how’s it going?’
I sat down on the chair in the ladies’ bathroom, put my feet up, and rested my head on the wall behind me. ‘Fine.’
‘Fine? That’s all I get.’
‘The interview’s going well.’
‘How about the date?’
‘But it isn’t a date, is it?’ I didn’t know how to tell her this felt like a date. I was swooning over him like it was a date. I was breathless looking at him because he’s so handsome and I didn’t know where else to look. That he was looking at me like I was naked, but I wasn’t naked so how would he look at me when I was naked? Oh, heck. I was pretty sure I’d be devoured, and I wasn’t complaining about it.
‘It’s an interview. It’s work.’ If I said it enough, maybe I’d start to believe it.
‘Have you decided how you’re going to end the night?’ she asked. I could hear rustling in the background and imagined Reggie trying to heave himself up on the couch beside her.
‘No. We haven’t even talked about sex, let alone considered doing it.’
‘Then, go back to that table and ask all about the sex.’ She whispered the word, like Reggie would be offended at the mere mention. ‘Maybe that will…ignite the fireworks, so to speak.’
‘And you think talking about him having sex with other women will get me horny?’
‘Possibly. It could be like watching a porno but in your head.’
‘I’m going.’
‘Wait!’
‘He’s sitting at the table on his own, and you aren’t giving me a good enough reason to continue hiding out in this bathroom,’ I whisper-shouted, annoyed she wasn’t helping make this any easier.
‘Just go with your gut,’ she said as I put the phone down.
It helped a little. I could normally rely on butterflies in my stomach and a flood of adrenaline rushing through my body to steer me in the right direction. I washed my hands, looking up at my reflection in the mirror. A few deep breaths were needed. Clarity would come soon, surely? Through something he said, a funny line, a romantic gesture to melt me into his arms and open up my legs. Crap. Would he invite me to his hotel room? Assume that’s where we’d go once we had coffee and an after-dinner mint?
‘Give me a sign!’ I said to myself, leaning into the mirror and shaking my head. I was confused. In the words of the ultimate diva inspiration, Whitney Houston—how will I know?
When I got back to the table, Matt was looking over the dessert menu, but he glanced up, watching me like I was magic. ‘Hey, you. Is everything OK? I’ve read this a total of twenty-seven times while you’ve been gone.’
‘Sorry,’ I replied, sitting down.
‘Was it Skye again? Were you having a debrief?’
‘Something like that,’ I replied, smiling as he handed me the menu. ‘Did you cancel someone to see me tonight?’
‘I turned down a booking,’ he said, ‘because I’d rather be here with you.’
I almost melted to the floor until I remembered this was his job. The article would bring new clients and notoriety, and those two things would be more important than me. But he was a good actor because I felt his laughter, enjoyed his compliments, and started to wonder.
‘Can I ask you more questions?’
‘Sure.’
‘There’s something we haven’t really…dived into yet.’ He put the fabric napkin from his knee onto the table. I curled my hand around my mouth and whispered, ‘Sex.’
‘OK.’
‘Can we talk about how it works?’ I asked.
‘You’ve never been told?’
‘Hilarious,’ I replied. ‘Not what I meant.’ He rubbed his forehead with his finger and smiled. ‘Do you charge by the hour?’ His eyebrows shot up to the top of his head. ‘Or the act?’
‘Usually by the hour.’
‘Do you ask them what they want or go with the flow?’
‘Well, it’s normally the usual penis in the vagina stuff.’
‘Hold on,’ I gasped. ‘That’s not sexy talk, at all.’
‘I thought you’d want a more clinical description. Can you use the word cock in a women’s magazine?’
‘You haven’t read Upfront, have you?’
‘No
,’ he replied. ‘Should I?’
‘I’ll send you a copy,’ I chuckled, sitting back in my chair. ‘In all seriousness, I want to know how it happens. Who makes the first move? How do you know what they want? It could be really awkward if you read the situation wrong.’
He crossed his arms and I lost him again. Eye contact was firmly on the table. ‘We talk beforehand. They let me know what they want. I let them know what I’m comfortable with. I ask if they want missionary, or something more extreme. I tell them my specialties—’
‘Whoa there,’ I said, holding up my hand. ‘Specialties?’
‘You can take this.’ He reached under the table into an overnight bag I hadn’t noticed before. I hoped he wasn’t going to stay with me all night because that would cost a friggin’ fortune and I wasn’t paid until next Friday. He handed me an A5 laminated card. ‘It gives details of what I do, and they can pick anything on there.’
‘Like a spa package?’ He laughed as I read through his many…talents. ‘What the hell is a clit-bomb?’
‘Oral with a mix of fingers or a sex toy of your choice. The effects of it are given away in the title. Which is a copyright term, by the way.’
‘Can I use it in the article?’
‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘Because I was joking.’ He shook his head and laughed as I took a deep breath.
‘Did you put this together?’ I asked, holding up the…sex menu.
‘No. The agency I worked for. I don’t use it anymore. I know what my clients want but I thought it was a good way of showing you what’s available.’ He dropped his gaze to the table. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have shown you. It’s crude. Too much.’
‘Why are you apologising?’
He finally looked up. ‘I don’t know. It’s strange talking about what I do like this. I never have. It’s been enlightening,’ he said with another shake of his head. ‘I’ve never been questioned about it before, and it’s making me wonder why the hell I want it splashed all over a magazine.’
‘I’m not judging you, Matt. I happen to agree with you that you’re providing a service to women that shouldn’t be frowned upon or mocked.’ He nodded lightly, like he didn’t quite believe what I was saying was true. ‘Don’t be embarrassed.’
Despite his confident talk about blowing away the stereotypes, I started to wonder if Matt and I really were on the same page.
‘I’ve made it sound seedy,’ he said. ‘Jesus. Clit-bombs. What the hell am I thinking? Don’t use that.’
I smiled softly as he rubbed his chin. Why was his confidence slipping? Where was the guy who wanted to tell the stories of his clients? Blast away the myths?
‘They all have weird names like’—I thought for a second—‘a cocktail menu.’
He barked out a laugh, then looked around to see who was listening. I didn’t like seeing him like this. Like he was looking in as an outsider and didn’t like what he was hearing. ‘They do, don’t they?’
‘There’s a lot of scope for toy play on this menu.’ I dropped it on the table, opening my eyes wide and lowering my voice. ‘Do you have any with you?’
‘A couple. I usually ask before the date if they would like me to bring anything. I buy what they want and dispose of everything after.’
‘That’s…thoughtful,’ I replied, looking over his sex menu again. He laughed, shaking his head as he took another drink.
‘Do you really need to know all this?’
I narrowed my eyes and nodded. This was painful for him and I couldn’t understand why. I wanted to ask a million questions but didn’t know where to start, or even what to follow it up with. I tapped the sex menu with my finger. ‘You have quite a repertoire.’
‘I do pretty standard things,’ he said, shrugging. I could almost feel him digging a hole to bury himself in.
‘What are your hard limits?’
He traced the table linen with his finger. ‘I always use a condom. Hard rule.’
‘Good to know.’
He glanced up at me. ‘I have regular sexual health checks…just so you know.’ I nodded. ‘I don’t do BDSM. That’s not my thing. I’ve never been comfortable with hurting someone. If that’s their thing, I don’t judge but I definitely wouldn’t be the right escort for them.’
‘What do you do?’ I took a drink, looked at him from over the glass.
‘Oral, anal, role play—’
‘Does role play come with anal?’
‘Could do,’ he replied, smiling. He knew I wasn’t taking this seriously and was going with it.
‘Are you asked about the size of your manhood before they book?’
‘Easy, tiger,’ he replied.
‘I’m serious. Surely that’s pretty vital in the grand scheme of things?’
‘I’m not want to blow my own trumpet…’
‘Oh, lord.’ It wasn’t the first time I’d rolled my eyes at him.
‘But I do have a humongous cock. Size of a rather rotund cucumber.’
I threw my head back in laughter, clasping my hands over my nose. ‘Is that in the job description? Only apply if it’s mistaken for a vegetable.’
‘Depends what kind,’ he replied.
‘If, and I mean if, we have sex tonight, would you want me to choose something off this list?’ He looked down at it, and I’m sure I caught a slight grimace just before he started rubbing his hands across the back of his neck.
‘Yeah. I mean, if that’s what you’re comfortable with.’
‘Believe it or not, I haven’t done this before.’ He raised his eyebrow and studied my body, his gaze falling down the curve of my shoulders before scooping over my breasts. There was a look of longing, a raw glimpse of need. ‘I mean, I’ve done sex, just not paid for sex.’
‘I got it,’ he replied, leaning in to the table. ‘What would you want, Stace?’
Oh, lord, he was raising his sexy game higher; now we were in the outer hemisphere of sexy games. I couldn’t deny we had a connection, but what did the connection mean and what should we do with it?
‘Don’t you ever get asked what you want?’ I stuttered.
‘No, because it’s about them, not me,’ he said.
‘They don’t want you to enjoy it too?’
‘I don’t think that’s high on the agenda.’
‘What?’ I spluttered. I couldn’t imagine sleeping with someone and not having the desire to please them too. To give them a good time. Love them. ‘That’s awful. I would want you to enjoy it. It would be a two-way thing for me, even if we never saw each other again.’
‘Most of my clients don’t like to…pleasure me.’
‘No BJ?’
‘Nothing extra in terms of the penis variety,’ he replied. ‘He’s sadly neglected, poor guy.’ He looked up at me and I became aware my mouth had slipped open, and my forehead probably had an unflattering line running down the middle. Mum called them thought wrinkles. I called them annoying. ‘Are you going to tell me how sad that makes you?’ I nodded and closed my mouth. ‘Hey, if that’s your thing, I’m totally OK with it.’
Cue knicker-destroying grin.
‘I’ll bear that in mind.’
He tried, but failed, to hold onto his laughter and the look of kill-me-now disappeared from his face, replaced with something I couldn’t place. Something naughty. Something nice. But both appeared to be careering together. ‘I love making you blush, Stace. It’s so out of place for the confident girl from Essex and I fucking caused it.’
Now my ladybits were tingling, and I had to press my thighs together to try to stop the thrum. This man wasn’t just talking the talk. I knew within ten seconds of meeting him that he was a sex master. It rolled off him in waves of pheromones that could strike a woman senseless, lull them with their power. He had confidence but not a strand of arrogance, and that was sexy. I wondered what made him excel at sex to have the balls to go into escorting. Was it a natural talent bestowed upon him at birth? Did the midwife notice a birthmark in the shape of a penis and de
clare, ‘This boy is going to do great things with his schlong!’
‘If you decide to have sex with me tonight, and I mean if’—I laughed at his obvious piss take, which fell into a sharp intake of breath as he rested his hand over mine—‘what would you like? We can be fast and furious.’ He glanced at me, watched my reaction, licked his lips, words falling out on a ragged breath. ‘Or slow and sweet. Your preference.’
I laced my fingers with his, gave good eye-contact, and held it strong. ‘What would you say if I told you I wanted fearless sex? Banging your head on the wall, hair snagging on the wood type sex?’ I watched his throat bob. A harsh swallow. ‘I’ve never had that feeling of complete exhilaration. Of letting myself go, handing myself over and running wherever it takes me.’
‘I’ll run with you,’ he replied, with just enough gruff in his voice to make me wonder if this was something he wanted, without the finished article and final payment at the end of the night. ‘We’ll get there together.’
‘Have you had time to look at the dessert menu?’ a waiter asked, his gaze slipping from Matt to me, and back again. ‘Or…would you like more time?’
I was pretty sure I had my mouth open again, almost certain my rampant sex drive was suddenly etched across my face or, at the very least, rolling across the table. Matt’s eyes never left mine and we were bordering on shameless in our pursuit of each other, completely ignoring the waiter as he quietly backed away.
I pressed my foot against Matt’s leg, lifting it along the curve of his calf. Everything inside me was screaming I was supposed to be taking a break from men and relationships, that Matt was risky, his true intentions unreadable until the night was over. But he made me feel at ease, safe. He encouraged laughter, offered soft, subtle touches, placed his hand at the small of my back as we entered the restaurant earlier tonight, eradicating the nerves and speeding up the bump bump of my heartbeat. He made me feel sexy. Like I could conquer the world and hold it with confidence in the palm of my hands.
‘You’re fine with me, Stace,’ he said, his voice low and blissful. ‘More than fine. Relax. Let me take care of you for a few hours. Full consent. You’re in control here.’
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