by B. B. Hamel
She sighs and hops off the table. She adjusts her panties and makes a face.
“Great. Now I’ll be uncomfortable all night.”
“Bring a spare pair in the future.”
She glares at me. “I’m supposed to carry panties with me everywhere?”
I shrug. “It’s probably a good idea. Never know when I’m going to want to get you off.”
She glares at me and shakes her head. “You’re insane. Come on.”
She storms out of the storage room. I grin to myself, following her with a smile on my face.
As soon as we get back into the room, the woman with the tight blonde bun is back on stage. She looks out at the crowd and calls my name.
I smirk at Aria. “Show time,” I say, kiss her cheek, and head up to accept my award.
It’s not lost on me that I still have Aria’s pussy on my lips and fingers as I take the little square plaque. I give a short speech about giving and the spirit of charity, or some shit, I don’t even know.
In my mind though, I’m thinking about her. About my fucking Aria. About that pussy on my tongue.
She watches me from her seat, face red. I know what she’s thinking.
There’s a whole week of this. And yes, it’s going to get even better from here.
7
Aria
I get home late Monday night after Brady insists on taking me out to this swanky little local bar. I pass out and sleep through the night without a single dream, and the only thing that wakes me up is my phone ringing.
“Good morning, little Aria.” Brady sounds nice and chipper. I check my clock and groan inwardly.
Barely past six.
“Good morning. Why are you up so early?”
“I’m always up early. How about meeting for coffee?”
“Your wish is my command,” I grumble.
He laughs. “You’ll feel better with a little breakfast.”
“It’s your fault I’m so tired.”
“Oh, I’m sorry for keeping you up.”
I smile a little bit as parts of the night flash back. Brady on the stage, accepting the award. Brady’s mouth between my legs just before that, making me come.
“I forgive you,” I say lightly and stretch. “Where should we meet?”
“Your apartment,” he says. “There’s a place I want to try around the corner.”
“Okay.” I get up. “How about an hour?”
“See you then.”
He hangs up and I stumble out of bed. I hop in the shower right away, briefly wondering how Zoe did on her exam, but I figure she’ll still be sleeping.
I get dressed and spend some time making myself look nice. I don’t normally do this much so early in the morning, or even for my normal clients, but I suddenly want to impress Brady. Normally I don’t really care about that, since it’s not a sexual relationship, but with him…
Clearly, this is different. I’m in a relationship that I’ve never experience before. I’m not in complete control and I can’t pretend like there’s nothing sexual going on.
Clearly, we have a sexual connection. I can’t pretend like that’s not true. It’s as physical as it is emotional, and I need to come to grips with that fact if I’m going to be able to handle this moving forward.
Mixing business with this relationship is a bad idea. I know it’s a terrible, awful, really stupid idea, but it’s too late. I’m involved and I’m not turning back.
Plus, I don’t want to turn back. That’s the really scary part. I want to keep seeing Brady, even though I know things are going to get messier and messier.
Maybe I need messy. I’ve been so careful, for so long, maybe it’s time to make a mess.
I finish getting ready and head out. I take the old familiar route to my work apartment. It’s within walking distance of my normal apartment, although I take a longer, more complicated route. I don’t want anyone to follow me from my place to this work apartment, although I know that’s totally paranoid. Nobody’s following me, and sometimes, when I’m running late, I just go straight between them. Today though, I take my time.
I reach the apartment a little before seven. There’s a figure sitting on the stoop, and for a second, I assume that it’s Brady. But as I get closer, I realize it’s definitely not him, not him at all.
I slow as the man slowly stands up. He was slumped over to one side, his hair a mess, a jacket spread over his front like a blanket. His glasses are askew, and he adjusts them when he realizes I’m watching him.
Louis jumps to his feet, coughing. He looks like absolute shit, like he slept on this stoop last night.
“Louis?” I ask. “What are you doing here?”
“A-Aria,” he stammers. “I was, ah, just waiting for you, is all.”
I frown. “You got my message, right? I’m not seeing any clients this week. I’m on vacation.”
“Yes, well.” He looks embarrassed, but there’s a desperate tint in his eye. “I wanted to see you. It’s important.”
“Louis,” I say softly, but I don’t approach him. Something keeps me away. “Honey, you can’t be here right now. It isn’t fair to my other clients, and I’m not seeing anyone.”
“But you’re here,” he says. “That means you’re working, yes?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I use this apartment for personal reasons sometimes.”
“Why are you here then?” His tone is almost accusatory. “What’s so important that you can’t even speak with me?”
I stare at him, taking in his appearance. His clothes are rumpled, his hair is sticking up, and there are bags under his eyes.
“Louis, did you sleep here last night?” I ask him as gently as I can.
His face tightens. “Of course not. I was just waiting for you.”
“Honey, you don’t look good. Why don’t you go home and get some rest? I’ll speak with you soon.”
“No,” he says sharply. “I came all the way here to see you.”
My heart starts beating and the fear starts to grow. I know Louis, I’ve known him for years. He’s one of my original clients. He’s a troubled man, prone to depression and anger, but he’s never been anything but sweet to me. I know his relationship with his wife isn’t good, that it’s been strained at best for years, but I thought he was working on that.
At least, I’ve been encouraging him to work on it.
Brady is going to be here soon. If he spots Louis like this, I don’t know what he’ll do. Worse, I don’t know what Louis will do. If he realizes that I’m seeing someone else all week, he might lose it, especially in this fragile state.
I have to get rid of him.
I step closer to the man. He doesn’t move back. Actually, he softens a bit.
“Listen, honey, please. This isn’t the time. You’re tired, you’re dirty. If you want to talk, we can talk. But not right now.”
He takes a sharp breath and lets it out. “I think Mary’s leaving me.”
“Oh, Louis.” A wave of guilt rides over me. He needs me right now, the poor man. But…
I can’t. Not this second, at least.
“I don’t know what to do. There are… lawyers involved.” He looks away, clearly embarrassed.
I touch his arm. “Listen to me. Go to a hotel, clean yourself up, and call your lawyer. I know you have one. Tell him what’s happening if you haven’t already.”
“Yes, of course,” he says, a little dazed. “Couldn’t I just use your apartment?”
“No, honey,” I say gently. “You need your own place. Go get cleaned up, speak with your lawyer. We can talk about it soon.”
“When?” he asks.
“Tomorrow.”
I know I shouldn’t give a time frame, but I’m desperate. I’m terrified of Brady showing up and making this worse.
“Tomorrow,” he echoes.
“I promise. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
He nods sharply. “Okay then. I’ll call you.”
“Good. Go g
et cleaned up.” I squeeze his arm before letting it go. “You’re going to be okay, Louis. I promise. I’ll help.”
“Thank you, Aria,” he says and turns away. “I’ll be going.”
I watch him walk away, relief flooding over me. He looks like a zombie, shuffling along, but at least he’s leaving.
Poor Louis. He’s not the strongest person in the world. He was born to a rich family and inherited a shipping business, and it practically runs itself. He’s floated through life, doing what’s expected of him, marrying a nice girl, all that.
Now he’s deeply unhappy and completely unprepared for life on his own.
I wasn’t lying when I said I’d help him. I really will, as much as I can. But I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it tomorrow. I hope I can, but I’m not sure yet.
I sit on the stoop, suddenly exhausted. Brady comes strolling down the street, a little smile on his lips, just a few minutes later.
“Morning,” he says to me and stops to look down. “You look like hell.”
I glare at him. “Thanks, asshole.”
“Seriously, did something happen? You look miserable.”
“You happened.” I stand up and force myself to smile. “I think I just need some coffee.”
“I can handle that.” He reaches out his hand and I take it almost instinctively. I wonder if Louis is around, watching from a distance.
I know Louis looks at me. I know he thinks about me. All my clients look at me and wonder what it would be like to be with me for real, at least to some degree. It’s part of the unspoken side of this business.
But I don’t normally let it bother me. Now though, I can’t help wondering if there’s more to it than just curiosity. From what he’s told me, Mary doesn’t seem like the type to want to leave him. There has to be more to the story than I know.
Fucking hell. Why does this have to happen right now? Right when I’m in this weird arrangement with Brady, when things are so complicated and intense. I don’t have the time or energy to take care of Louis on top of everything else.
We head to this little coffee place nearby. I’ve never seen it before, and I’m too distracted to really take it in. We get drinks and sit down on a bench at the edge of a park, watching people slowly drift past.
“You okay?” he asks me.
“Hm?” I look up at him then smile. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”
“You’re distracted. Busy thinking about me?”
“Totally.” I give him my best smile, and he smiles back a little warily.
“Really, what’s up? You’ve barely said a word.”
“Nothing, honestly. It’s just early.”
“How late do you normally sleep?”
I snort. “It’s more an issue of going to bed at a normal hour.”
“You sound incredibly old.”
“I think I might be.”
He laughs lightly. “Come on, old lady. You were in bed by one at the latest.”
“I guess working with all these older men is really aging me prematurely.”
He rolls his eyes. “Please. I’m nearly twice your age and I can outlast you, no problem.”
“You’re a freak of nature,” I say plainly.
“Obviously. But still.”
“You’re also twenty years younger than most of my clients.”
“Really?” He purses his lips. “Don’t you find it strange, dealing with men that age? I mean, they could be your father.”
“True,” I say. “But it’s also good. I think I help make them a little younger. Or at least to remember what it was like when they were young.”
He grunts at that. “Maybe. I don’t need a reminder, though.”
“I don’t know, old man.” I grin at him.
“Please. You’re the one whining about staying up too late.”
“But it’s so horrible!” I lean my head against his shoulder, and he laughs, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
He pulls me close against him. I smile to myself, sipping my coffee, and he doesn’t mention anything else about me being in a quiet mood.
If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s dodging a question and changing the subject. I don’t want to talk about Louis, since I might break our contract to help him out. I don’t want Brady to know anything about that.
I also don’t want to lie. So, it’s easier just to redirect him away from that stuff.
I don’t know how long I can keep it a secret, though. Louis scared me and I’m worried he’s coming unhinged. If that’s happening, he may just get worse. Then it’ll be impossible to hide.
One thing at a time. I need to keep my head in this game. There’s a lot at stake here, and not just the money.
Brady leans closer to me. “Let’s go back to your place,” he says softly.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Show me what you do with your clients normally.”
I laugh a little. “It’s boring.”
“Show me the fun version, then.”
I look back up at him. There’s a smirk on his lips and a shiver runs down my spine.
“Okay then. Come on.” I stand up, take his hand, and we head back to my apartment.
8
Brady
I follow Aria up into her building and I can’t help but feel incredibly curious.
This is where she brings all her clients. All those men, looking to talk to her about… what? About their wives, job, kids? Probably all that and more.
It’s a quiet building made up of a few different units. Her place is on the ground floor and the door is straight ahead.
She unlocks it and pushes it open. She flicks on a few lights automatically, like she’s done this a million times before, which I guess she has.
I shut the door behind me. The place isn’t large, but it’s not tiny. The kitchen is a typically old apartment kitchen, with just a little stove and an outdated refrigerator.
But what strikes me is the simplicity of the place. It’s decorated, but tastefully. It looks modern but understated.
“Very nice,” I say to her.
She shrugs and walks into the room. She automatically grabs a long lighter from a drawer and starts lighting candles that are spread all throughout the room.
I lean up against the counter, sipping my coffee and watching her. When she’s done, she gets a little watering can and waters all the plants she has. When she’s done, she looks back at me.
“I guess that’s a little ritual I do,” she admits.
“I didn’t even notice.”
She laughs a little. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s nice,” I say.
“Yeah?”
I nod. The living room is made up of a couch and a stereo system, a decent high-end one, if I’m not mistaken. There’s a flat screen television against one wall, along with a comfortable couch and a large armchair across from it. Aria walks over to the chair and folds herself into it.
I watch her for a second. “So, this is your element.”
She nods. “Sure is. I’ve spent a lot of time in this room.”
“Looks like a therapist’s office,” I say suddenly.
“That’s exactly what it is.”
I laugh a little bit. The effect is uncanny. It’s simple and modern and clean and calming. There’s no unnecessary clutter, barely any clutter at all. There aren’t any distractions.
“Good job,” I say. “Honestly, it’s impressive.”
She grins at me. “Thanks. It took me a little while to get the effect right.”
I wander over to the couch and sit down. “Is this where they usually sit?”
She nods. “Yep. Sometimes I put on music, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes they put it on. Kind of all depends on their mood, I guess.”
“And then, what, we just talk?”
“Sure.”
“About what?”
“Whatever you want, really.”
I smirk a little. “You think this is a session?”
I sigh. “You’re in character.”
“I’m always in character. It’s just who I am.”
“Okay then. I’ll play along.” I cross my legs and sip my coffee. “I want to talk about this girl I’m seeing.”
She nods. “What’s her name?”
“Aria.”
“Pretty name.”
“Barely does her justice.”
She smiles a little. “Do you see a lot of women?”
I hesitate. “Sort of. I’m with a lot of women, but I don’t really do… exclusive.”
“Are you exclusive with her?”
“For now,” I say.
“Why would you want to be exclusive with her, but never before with anyone else?”
“Good question,” I say. “She has this sexy therapist vibe to her, you know? It’s impossible to resist.”
“Sounds pretty hot. Does she make you happy?”
“So far.”
“I’m happy for you then. I think it sounds amazing.”
I laugh a little. “So that’s it? You’re just overwhelmingly positive?” I ask her, breaking the story.
“More or less,” she says. “Not always. It depends on their mood, on the conversation, but yeah. As a rule, I’m positive and optimistic for them. I’m an escape into something nicer.”
“You’re not a therapist at all then,” I say. “Every therapist I’ve seen has been ruthlessly practical.”
That seems to surprise her. “You’ve gone to therapy?”
“Sure,” I say. “I’ve been in and out of it for years and years. It’s actually pretty nice.”
“I have to admit, I’m surprised.”
I smirk and sip my coffee. “Why? Can’t see a man like me talking about his feelings?”
“I can’t see a man like you admitting that he’s wrong, and I think that’s a fundamental aspect of therapy.”
I laugh at that. “You’re probably right. That’s probably why it never really works. But I like it anyway.”
“Why?”
I shrug. “Probably the same reasons your clients like talking to you. Sometimes it’s good to have someone to bitch and complain to that won’t turn around and use it against you.”