At Your Beck & Call

  I paused, trying to fix the fleeting colors into my mind, but Véro gripped my fingers impatiently, drawing me behind her.

  As she collected her key card from the reception desk, I asked myself if this was a good idea. I was confused—was I mixing business with pleasure? Did it even matter? It felt like I was watching some guy who was wearing my skin—but I hadn’t had sex in over three months. She wanted me and my body sure as hell wanted her.

  The elevator ride was silent and I wondered if she was going to change her mind. But the moment she entered her room, she grabbed me by my tie, slamming the door shut, and dragging me toward her. Our mouths crashed together and she thrust her hot tongue into my mouth, rough and needy. It was such a fucking turn on. I couldn’t remember the last woman I’d kissed. Um, probably Professor Golby, on the day I graduated. Just her cheek! Oh, jeez, for sure not the time to be having that thought.

  My mind spun away as Véro’s hands ripped at my shirt, nearly strangling me as she impatiently tugged at my tie. I ran my hands over her silk dress, fumbling for the zipper. The material slid from her with a faint whisper, and I groaned at the sight of her pretty lace bra and her full, heavy breasts. I picked her up by her ass, her legs wrapping around my waist.

  “Careful!” she gasped. “I’m pretty heavy!”

  Who the hell had told her that? She was maybe 140 pounds. I ignored her comment and carried her easily toward the bed. Okay, so she wasn’t the thinnest girl ever, but that Oliver prick had really done a number on her self-esteem, despite her awesome tits.

  I laid her across the enormous bed and kneeled over her, tugging down the cup of her bra so I could take her nipple between my teeth and taste the soft flesh. As soon as I touched her, I didn’t have any more dumb thoughts for some time.

  She shuddered and squirmed beneath me, her fingers plucking at my shirt that was still half on.

  I sat up and yanked it over my head, tossing it somewhere on the floor.

  Her eyes grew wide as she ran her hands up and down my chest and then she pushed roughly on my shoulders as I dipped down to kiss her again.

  “Pants off,” she ordered. “Get naked and fuck me already. Wait—do you have condoms?”

  “Wallet,” I said, my voice strained. “Inside jacket pocket.”

  She reached down and scratched around on the floor for my jacket, her breasts bouncing independently of each other. I couldn’t work out how that happened. Guess I should have studied science harder in school—specifically gravitational forces. Yeah, okay, so some dumb thoughts.

  She pulled out the strip of three condoms that I’d stashed at the last minute, and her mouth turned down.

  “Is that all?” she said, sounding disappointed.

  “Yes,” I replied, as I took a giant bite of the curvy ass that she was thrusting in my face.

  She squealed and smacked my chest.

  “Pants, now!”

  I toed off the shiny shoes while Véro was yanking on my belt. She had the zipper undone before I’d managed to lose the socks. She pushed her hand inside my briefs and tugged hard.

  Fuck! She was rough!

  “Holy cow,” she murmured, “that’s some pistol you’re packing.”

  And suddenly my fantasy of having her plump lips with the red lipstick wrapped around my cock became a reality.

  I stopped being able to process thought when my tip hit the back of her throat and she choked.

  She dragged her teeth down my length and I winced. Jeez, if she carried on like this, I was going to lose something that I was pretty attached to.

  “Quick, condom!” she snarled.

  She was a bit fucking scary. I glanced at her long fingernails. I was going to be scarred, I knew it.

  Obeying, I tore open the packet and sheathed up, tugging slightly. I was always worried they were going to come off during sex. Playing hunt the lost condom with a girl who was freaking about getting pregnant was less fun than sticking bamboo sticks under your fingernails. Trust me on that one.

  Véro didn’t seem to have any concerns.

  “Fuck me hard!” she yelled.

  I tried to check if she was wet, but she slapped my hands away and grabbed my cock, pushing it into her bare pussy.

  “Go!”

  It was sheer pleasure sinking into her, soft and tight, all curves and warmth. I barely had a second to appreciate it before she shrieked at me to go faster and harder.

  “Left a bit! Up a bit! Just … yes! Yes! That’s it! Fuck me! Fuck me hard!”

  Jeez, I didn’t know it was target practice, but I did what she asked. It was kind of hard to concentrate with her yelling at me like that.

  Her pussy started squeezing around me and I knew I wasn’t going to last long either.

  “Yes! Yes! Yes!” she screamed as I pounded into her, her nails scoring my back as her body arched and went rigid beneath me.

  When she sank her teeth into my shoulder, I came hard.

  I collapsed for a moment as she hugged me against her, then I pulled out and rolled off the bed, making my way to the bathroom.

  When I walked back in, she’d pulled the sheet over her breasts and was half sitting, half lying against the headboard. Her eyes ran up and down my body before she met my eyes.

  “Hallen, wow! That was great!” she said, slightly breathless, shaking her head in disbelief. “Sorry if I was a bit bossy.”

  I couldn’t help laughing. With a voice like that, there must be a job for her in the Marine Corps.

  “It’s cool. I like a woman who knows what she wants.”

  “Well, I want to do it again. I mean, when you’re ready. If you can. Oh!”

  Her words were having the desired effect and I was already getting hard.

  “Oh my God! That’s quite a … talent you’ve got there! Remind me how many condoms do you have left?”

  “Two.”

  Her face fell. “Oh, yes. Well, I’d like to use them both.”

  And we did. We had sex twice more but the final time she let me lead and I showed her that fast wasn’t always best. I spoke to her quietly, and showed with my body how good sex in slow motion could be.

  When we’d finished, I held her in my arms and she began to talk to me.

  “Oliver always made me feel fat and ugly. He never made love to me like that. It was always about him—his needs. He said I ‘took too long’, like it was a race or something, or that I was a failure because I had to get myself off. You’re an amazing lover, Hallen. I know we just met—and that my mom paid you to bring me today—but you’ve made it feel really special. Thank you.”

  I thought hard before I asked my next question, but I really wanted to know.

  “Véro, can I ask you something? Why were you with a guy who made you feel like that? You’re a beautiful woman. You’re clever and funny and people like being around you. Why stay with a creep like him?”

  She sighed and I didn’t think she was going to answer me. But then she spoke.

  “I don’t know. We’d been together three years. I suppose it became a habit.”

  “And now?”

  She laughed. “I loved seeing the look on his face when he tried to cut in and you wouldn’t let him. Oh, I wish I had a photograph of that!”

  “He would have deserved it if I’d hit him.”

  She sighed and her smile drooped a little.

  “Well, I’m glad you didn’t. It was my friend’s wedding after all. I’m so glad you came.”

  “Three times and counting, baby.”

  She laughed, then gave a small sigh. “You’re so beautiful, Hallen. Everything about you is perfect.” Then she touched the thin white scar on the side of my jaw. “Except this. A small imperfection—it’s almost poetic. How did you get it?”

  “Hockey puck in the face.”

  “You played ice hockey?”

  “I’m Canadian. I think it’s like a law or something.”

  She laughed again then looked at the time on the hotel’s bedside clock.
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  “No offence, Hallen, but I don’t really see this being a long-term thing between us, obviously. I mean, I need to get over Oliver and decide what I want. I can’t dive straight into … well … it’s been fun…”

  Not that I was expecting anything different but wow, she was direct. I guessed she got it from her mom.

  I kissed her cheek as I sat up. “It’s okay. I had fun, too. Beautiful woman, great food, great sex—what’s not to like.”

  “And $500,” she said, nudging me with her elbow.

  “Yeah! Well, I only got $250 so far—your mom said I’d get the rest when you were satisfied.”

  She snorted. “Mom said that?”

  “Yeah, but she did make a point of saying that she wasn’t paying me to sleep with you.”

  “I should think not! Well, I am very satisfied, thank you.”

  “Cool—and I got to drive a totally awesome car.”

  “When’s Mom paying you the rest of the money?” she asked, thoughtfully.

  “Um, I don’t know.” I felt stupid admitting that I hadn’t asked. “She gave me her business card so I guess I’ll just call her. Nah, probably won’t bother.”

  Véro propped herself on one elbow to look at me as I pulled on my pants.

  “Why wouldn’t you?”

  I smiled slyly.

  “Because I’m afraid she’ll guess what we’ve been doing for the last three hours—and then she’ll remove my balls with a spoon.”

  Véro laughed. “You don’t know my mother very well. She’ll probably give you a bonus!”

  “Well, it would sure help pay off the student loan,” I sighed.

  “Hmm,” she said, then yawned widely. “Hallen, I don’t want to come over like a complete bitch, but I really need to get some sleep now.”

  Oh right. My cue to leave. At least she was up front about it. It saved the whole awkward promises to see each other again that neither of us planned on keeping. There was a lot to be said for screwing an older woman.

  I grabbed my shirt from the floor, feeling well exercised and enjoying the appreciative way that she was looking at me.

  I sat on the bed to tie my shoes, gazing down at Véro who looked all soft and sleepy. I couldn’t resist leaning down to kiss her.

  “Bye, beautiful woman.”

  She smiled.

  “Take care, Hallen.”

  The air was cooler now and I could smell the sweet scent of Evening Primrose and the soft lavender of the Jeffrey Pines that fringed the lavish gardens.

  I took a moment to let the sensory overload wash around and through me, a thousand million thoughts swirling dangerously around my mind.

  As I left the hotel, I bumped into Oliver.

  I couldn’t help grinning at him as I tucked my tie into my pocket.

  “You screwed up, dude. She is one awesome fucking woman.”

  He frowned but walked away without saying anything further. Just as well.

  I slung my rented jacket over my shoulder, shook the dust of that place from my rented shoes, and got in my rented car.

  Seven hours later, my apartment doorbell woke me up.

  “Hello?”

  “Hallen, it’s Eloise.”

  I really wasn’t sure how this was gonna go or how much she knew, but I was pretty certain hiding in my apartment wasn’t an answer. Besides, she knew I was here now.

  “Oh, hey, sorry, I didn’t know you’d be this early … um … just give me a minute.”

  I pulled on an old t-shirt and a pair of jeans, ran a hand over my stubbly jaw cursing, then padded out barefoot to meet her. Yeah, not awkward at all. I just screwed your daughter even though you told me not to. Sorry about that.

  As I opened the door to her, it was only then I thought how shabby my place looked.

  All the furniture was third or fourth hand, and piles of books and sketchpads were scattered everywhere, drawings and ideas taped to the walls, covering ugly patches of peeling paint. Seeing it with fresh eyes, I was embarrassed.

  But Eloise wasn’t looking at the furniture, her eyes were fixed on me.

  “Hi … um …. would you like some coffee?” I asked, not meeting her steady gaze.

  “Yes, thank you, Hallen. Are all these yours?”

  She waved her hand at the pile of canvases in the corner and the five finished oil paintings I’d hung on the walls.

  “Yeah. Couldn’t afford to get them framed.”

  “You’re very talented,” she said, studying the pictures one by one.

  “Thanks. Still can’t sell any. Um … I don’t have cream or sugar.”

  “I take it black.”

  I stood in the kitchen while the machine gurgled and stuttered painfully, catching the subtle scent of her expensive perfume as she inspected each sketch and painting in turn.

  She smiled as I passed her a coffee. “I owe you $250.”

  Balancing her cup on a pile of magazines, she pulled an envelope from her purse and handed it to me. I stuffed it in my back pocket without looking at it, feeling uncomfortable.

  “Thanks.”

  She raised an eyebrow and watched my face carefully, her gaze unwavering. I had to look away first. Again.

  “Véro had a good time yesterday,” she said coolly, sipping elegantly at her coffee. “She said you played your part well.”

  I nodded, wondering how much her daughter had told her.

  She sat back on my battered sofa and crossed her legs, one stocking clad ankle sliding across the other, while picking idly at a loose thread with her long, Amaranth pink nails.

  “Plus you charmed her boss and his wife—and had Oliver pissing down his own leg.”

  I choked on my coffee.

  “I’m particularly grateful you put that bâtard tricherie in his place.”

  “Um, okay.”

  “She also told me that you’re a very thoughtful and attentive lover. Quite skillful, given your age.”

  What the fuck? I felt my face heat up.

  “I don’t mean to embarrass you, Hallen. My daughter is an adult. Whomever she sleeps with is none of my business. Having said that, I do have a business proposition for you.”

  I had no clue what was coming next.

  “I’m bored, Hallen. I don’t like being bored. Idle wealth does not suit me. When I first saw you in the Harvest Moon, I was surprised to see such an attractive young man in a bar frequented by old fogeys such as myself. But you could talk to everyone, young and old. You were friendly without being over-familiar, charming without being obsequious. I was intrigued. And then I thought of my daughter’s needs—I’m referring to her need for an escort, rather than her sexual needs, which is her own concern of course.” She paused as I contemplated joining a monastery. “Have you ever thought about being a professional escort, because I think you could excel at it?”

  I shook my head wordlessly. The monastery was still looking like a good idea.

  “You’re probably a little younger than most other male escorts, certainly younger than the ones I’ve used in the past, but that could be a niche market for you, my dear Hallen.” She leaned forward, her eyes glowing with sincerity and intensity. “A little shine, a touch more sophistication … I could train you so that you would be comfortable in every social setting. I’m talking about the high end of the market—not just women who have an itch to scratch, although there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m talking about turning you into a gentleman—a companion fit for a lady. I see great potential. You just need a little polish here and there to take off those rough edges. It wouldn’t take much.”

  I was speechless. She smiled at me, and leaned back again.

  “I’m thinking about women in my daughter’s situation who don’t want to seem pathetic in front of their ex’s,” she went on, as if her suggestion was the most normal thing in the world. “The divorced woman who meets her husband’s new … and younger … wife; the business woman who requires a date for an official function but who doesn’t have the time or incli
nation for a relationship; a gay woman who doesn’t wish her sexual preferences known by her work colleagues; a woman who simply wishes to have a pleasant meal in a restaurant with enjoyable company, no strings attached. The world of dating can be a shark pool at the best of times; together—your looks and charm and my marketing expertise—we could offer a safe environment in which to swim.”

  She cocked her head to one side and gazed at me appraisingly.

  “You’re very attractive—you already know this. But you have a protective quality that’s endearing.” She paused, smiling kindly. “I imagine it’s a lot for you to take in, but please think about it. You could have a very successful career just being yourself and doing what you did yesterday. I can make the right connections for you, and you’ll have maybe two or three dates a month and a nice bit of pocket money. Maybe more.”

  “So … what? You’d be my pimp?” My voice was incredulous.

  “Dear boy, no!” she laughed, gently. “I am not for one moment insinuating that you should offer your apparently delightful sexual favors. No, merely that you work as an escort—as the word suggests—offering an arm to those women who wish to pay for superior company. Should you later decide to extend additional services at the end of the evening … that would be your own personal business and nothing to do with me. You’re a single man—you have nothing to lose.”

  She stood up. “When you’ve thought it over, give me a call.”

  She placed her half-full coffee cup on the table, and strolled out of the room. I still hadn’t managed to close my mouth.

  I pulled out the envelope that she’d given me. There was a lot more than $250 in it. Shit! Over $1,000! I read the handwritten note.

  ‘A bonus from my daughter.’

  I didn’t call Eloise. Not right away.

  I felt confused and a bit creeped out by everything that had happened. I mean it had been good—I’d enjoyed the date, but I’d been paid for it. I’d pretty much been paid for having sex. Which made me either the luckiest guy alive—or a complete asswipe. I couldn’t even bring myself to think the word prostitute—but it was there, lurking at the edges of my consciousness.