Eric and I kept talking. I did ask a few questions about his personal life, questions I thought some women would ask him. He’d been divorced eight years. No kids. His company had relocated to Iowa and he didn’t want to follow. He was doing part-time consulting work for an import company which might lead to a full-time position. We finished our drinks. Ordered a second round. I sneaked a look at my watch. By now it was eight-twenty. I let my eyes roam the room. No Thorne.
‘What happens now?’ Eric asked. He’d seen my attention waver. I downed my second glass of champagne to calm my mounting anger. Thorne was showing up late on purpose, to prove he was still in control. Or maybe he wasn’t going to show up at all. No, he wouldn’t have sent me that skimpy garment if he didn’t want to see me.
Eric leaned into me. He was wearing a lemony aftershave. Well, if Thorne didn’t show up maybe I would…
No. The whole point of meeting Eric here had been for Thorne to think another man was going to have me while I was wearing his sexy little present.
‘Do we have dinner here,’ Eric whispered, ‘or upstairs in the room? I don’t know how this escort business works.’
‘Like an old-fashioned date. Where your date wants you to take her is established beforehand. Once Close Encounters accepts you, the owners send you a manual of the dos and don’ts.’
‘Such as?’
‘Always be punctual. Have impeccable manners. Dress appropriately for the occasion. Keep your own problems out of the conversation. Know which utensils to use.’
‘Pick them up in the order they’ve been placed and the utensils above the plate are for dessert. Why do I feel like I’m back in grammar school?’
‘Look, some of the Close Encounters clients are rich dowager types who might want to take you to their charity benefits. You’ve got to make them look good.’
‘I have to bed them too?’
‘That’s not what you’re being paid for. What happens at the end of the evening is up to the two of you, same as with any date. Some women will expect sex, I suppose.’ A lot of them did and the price was negotiated up front. It wasn’t information I could put on the website or tell Eric. I was playing client, not owner. ‘I guess if you want extra cash for that and she’s willing to pay, that’s your affair.’
‘What about you? Is that what you wanted at the end of the evening? Not that you’d ever have to pay for it. But maybe it gave you a high?’
‘I’m not under discussion here, Eric. You are and let me remind you that men get a very big kick out of paying for sex. Why shouldn’t women? There’s also the chance that you might want to have sex with the woman you’re escorting without being paid extra.’
It was almost nine. He wasn’t coming. Had never planned to come. The bastard! May he rot in hell. May someone cut off his penis and stuff it down his throat. Ooooh, if I ever bumped into him again, I was going to scratch his eyes out.
Eric ran his hand down my arm. ‘I want to. Now.’ His eyes, full of desire, drank me in. Any other time I would have taken him home and worked us both to exhaustion, but I was too angry with Thorne. And, hard to admit – too disappointed.
I caught Walter’s attention and asked for the bill. ‘I’m sorry, Eric. I’m just here to give you a passing or failing grade. You passed beautifully.’
‘Thanks, but what about in bed?’ He tugged at my ear, squeezed it, something that usually sent shivers down my spine. ‘Maybe I’m a lousy lover.’ He brushed his lips against my neck as he spoke. ‘You need to find out.’
I pulled away. Walter brought the bill over and I reached for my credit card.
Eric grabbed my hand. ‘No, I’ll get that.’
‘This was a job interview. Close Encounters pays.’ I grabbed my coat and umbrella and leaned over to give him a quick kiss on the lips. ‘My instincts tell me you’re no lousy lover. Blame it on bad timing.’
We both stood up. He helped me with my coat, kissed my bare neck. ‘When do I see you again?’
I kissed him again on the lips. I would have liked to stay with him, enjoy him and his body, but I wanted Thorne. ‘Who knows?’ I said and left.
As soon as the cab-driver braked in front of my building, an arm reached down and opened the door for me. I looked up. The bouncer type from the morning looked down at me. This time he was empty-handed. He stood guard by the kerb while I paid the fare and got out. As soon as the cab drove away, the man lifted his chin toward the other side of the street where a sleek silver car was parked. My heart did a little jump. Was it Thorne’s? I looked away quickly in case he was sitting in the car.
‘Goodnight, whatever your name is,’ I said to the man and started walking to the front door. He stepped in front of me.
‘Mister Thorne call me Boris. Mister Thorne is waiting.’
‘And I’m going home now, Boris.’ I made the mistake of flashing my keys at him to make my point. He grabbed them.
‘Hey, give those back!’
‘Mister Thorne waits.’
‘Mister Thorne can wait until he drops dead.’ I was shouting, hoping Thorne could hear me. ‘Give me back my keys!’ I kicked him in the shin and stubbed my toe. Boris pocketed the keys, picked me up and carried me across the street. I went limp instead of kicking or screaming. Boris was built like a tank and the only person on the street was Larry, the local drunk, sleeping it off, who couldn’t have cared less what happened to me. I was furious, but part of me was also curious, even thrilled.
The back door opened. Boris slipped me inside and shut the door. He turned to face the street and stood guard, his wide body covering the back-seat window completely. I heard the click of the doors being locked. I was stuck in a dark car with Archer Thorne, a man I wanted and hated at the same time. A tremor ran through my body. A tremor of excitement, maybe fear. Definitely desire.
‘I thought we had a date,’ I said.
Thorne leaned across the seat and kissed me lightly. Too lightly. I instantly wanted to grab his neck and pull him to me, suck his lips. I breathed in the smell of his intoxicating aftershave instead.
‘You did. With another man.’
‘You came to the bar?’ Why didn’t I see him? I’d kept my eyes peeled on that entrance the whole time.
‘Walter spared me the trouble. I had let him know that I wanted our evening to be very special.’
‘Are you trying to make me feel bad?’
‘I want to make you feel good. Always when you’re with me.’ His hand reached up to my hair and took the clasp out. ‘I’m glad to know you didn’t let him see you wearing my present.’
‘I’m not wearing it.’
He smoothed my hair down over my shoulders. ‘You are wearing it. That was the whole point of your game tonight. I was going to walk into the bar and see you sitting with another man in this tight dress.’ His hand was now skimming over my hip, the length of my thigh. He was barely touching me and I had to stop my body lifting up to meet his hand. ‘A dress clinging to your firm ass, your big hard nipples, resting on your bush. You knew I was going to go crazy at the thought that another man was going to have you.’ He slipped his hand under my dress and squeezed my sex. I let out a cry of pure want.
‘I