Fauxmance

  I swiped him lightly on the shoulder. “Hey! You’re not making me feel any better.”

  He looked back at me. “My apologies. This is just an unusual situation for me. Clients normally come to me through recommendations. We speak on the phone first, I vet them. It’s all very official, but with you it’s—”

  “Complicated?”

  Julian exhaled. “Yes, very complicated.”

  “Well, like I said, I’ve reconsidered and decided it’s a terrible idea anyway so…”

  I trailed off because what I said appeared to bother him. A deep line formed between his eyebrows. “What will you do then? Keep your body hidden away, never explore the sexuality hidden inside you? You’re a beautiful woman, Ellen. You deserve to know what it’s like to be desired, and to desire another.”

  I definitely knew what it was like to desire another.

  I swallowed down the words and instead replied, “Then what?”

  Julian held my gaze. “I will take you on as a client.”

  He would?

  “You will?”

  He lifted a finger. “But, there will be rules, for both of us.”

  Was this actually happening? I had to be dreaming. My heart threatened to beat its way right out of my chest.

  “Obviously, I haven’t taken this decision lightly, which is clear from the fact that it took me two whole days to consider it.”

  Was that why he hadn’t been in touch? He’d spent the entire time thinking about my offer?

  I nodded soberly. “I understand.”

  He eyed me a moment, then blew out a breath. “Rule number one. When we’re together, you’ll be Ellen, not Elodie.”

  “But…”

  “No excuses. Nothing about this arrangement will be pretend.”

  My throat ran dry. “I’m not sure I can do it as myself.”

  “Of course, you can. You’re you all the time, you just need to take off the wig.”

  But the wig is my safety blanket, Julian, you don’t understand.

  “Rule number two,” he went on before I could argue. “You won’t discuss our arrangement with anyone.”

  “Not even Rainbow and Skittles?” I asked for comic effect. This conversation was getting too serious.

  Julian’s lips twitched. “Not even Rainbow and Skittles. Rainbow’s a notorious gossip.”

  I let out a soft laugh. “Is there a rule number three?”

  His expression sobered. “Yes, when our arrangement comes to its natural end, we might not be able to see each other again. It all depends on how things pan out, but we need to prepare ourselves for the possibility.”

  My gut sank. I liked having Julian as a friend. He brought me out of myself and gave me butterflies. Made me feel more alive. I didn’t want to lose that.

  “Some clients I’ve stayed in touch with, but others, well, it was for the best that we parted ways.”

  “Why was it for the best?”

  He seemed reluctant to answer, then said, “Those clients, you could say they were the ones I had the most intense connections with.”

  “Like the woman in the painting over your bed?”

  Julian nodded. “Yes, like the woman in the painting.”

  “But…I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

  His expression softened. “Then you need to seriously consider if this is something you want to do.” I frowned. Julian must’ve seen the conflict on my face because he continued to speak. “You’ve said yourself you’ve had limited experience with sex. When you’re with someone in that way, there are emotions involved. Sometimes people try to pretend there aren’t, but they’re only fooling themselves. Staying friends with someone you’ve had a sexual relationship with can be painful for both parties, particularly when one person moves on to someone new…” his words trailed off, his meaning sinking in.

  He thought I’d be brokenhearted, and seeing the person you long for, trying to be friends, would certainly be an unbearable experience. Was I prepared to give him up if it meant gaining experience that could help forge a life for myself, one where I actually had a family of my own one day and wasn’t cursed to be alone forever?

  I was almost thirty years old. I couldn’t keep living like a hermit, afraid of human interaction. Nor could I continue pretending to be Elodie. As much of a comfort as she was, it wasn’t healthy.

  Being with Julian had to be worth the risk. Heartache faded eventually, right? Even if it hurt to lose him, I wouldn’t feel that way forever.

  I steeled myself and met his gaze. “I understand the rules, and I’m prepared for the possibility that we won’t be able to stay friends.”

  Something about my response seemed to pain him. When he replied, his expression was grave. “In that case, I have just one more question to ask you.”

  “And that is…?”

  He leaned forward, fiddled with the collar of my blouse and levelled his sexy, hazel eyes on me. The hint of a smirk graced his lips when he spoke, like we were sharing an intimate secret. “When would you like to begin?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Julian

  Ellen Grant was now my client.

  The last time I’d been so fixated on someone was two years ago, when I’d had a brief but intense affair with the actress, Alicia Davidson. I met her through Rose, who was choreographing the West End musical Alicia was headlining. I’d pursued her relentlessly, and she resisted my charms for a while. From the very beginning, she made it known that I wasn’t her type. She wanted someone nice, someone reliable, someone whose profession didn’t fall into a grey area of legality.

  I thought she was “the one”. I thought at long last I was going to give up my work as an escort, get a normal job and be monogamous to a single woman. Then she cast me aside like yesterday’s newspaper. I soon learned that Alicia wasn’t “the one”. Nobody was. They were all just “the one” for a while until the next one came along.

  This was why I wasn’t so concerned about being intimate with Ellen. My obsession with her would fade, just like it did with all the others.

  At first, I’d had misgivings. She knew the real me, knew where I lived. I’d always kept my personal life and my work life separate. It was a rule I set for myself a long time ago, and hence another reason why I needed a few days to consider things.

  But then, the more I thought on it, the more it made sense. Ellen needed experience and I was a fine candidate for the job. I would immerse myself in our relationship, teach her that sensuality was a vital part of the human experience, then set her free into a world of new possibilities.

  It had always been my calling.

  Some people were meant to find one person and settle down. I was meant to help ducklings learn how to fly.

  I sat at the hotel bar, waiting for Ellen. We’d arranged to meet at 7:00 pm and it was now 7:06 pm. I wondered if she’d gotten cold feet. After we discussed all the ins and outs of the arrangement, my fee and the rest of the rules, she’d become somewhat withdrawn. All of that stuff tended to negate the sexy factor, but it was a necessary evil.

  I decided I’d give her until 7:30 pm and if she didn’t show I’d leave.

  “Would you like another sparkling water?” the bartender asked, seeing I’d drained my glass.

  I looked at my watch. 7:17 pm. “No, I’m good for now.”

  “Hey,” a soft, unsure voice cut in.

  She’d finally arrived, and she was all Ellen, not a hint of Elodie in sight. She wore a sensible, navy-blue dress, black tights, and kitten heels. Her hair was in a loose bun, her makeup light. My eyes focused on the peach gloss coating her lips. Aside from her eyes, they were her most entrancing feature.

  “Hello, stranger.” I stood to kiss her cheek, just shy of her mouth. She flushed in a way that satisfied my inner possessive streak. “Can I get you anything to drink?” I went on, helping her onto a stool.

  She sat and looked at the bar. “Um, I’ll t-take a red wine. Whatever’s good.”

  I motioned
for the bartender’s attention. “A glass of your Ripasso, please.”

  “Sorry, I’m late.” Ellen didn’t look at me as she gripped the edge of her stool. The bar was crowded, and I thought it might be adding to her nerves.

  I placed a hand on her knee, hoping the touch would ground her. “You’re one of the few people I’d wait for.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, finally giving me her eyes. She had no idea of the power she wielded.

  The barman placed her wine in front of her and she downed almost half of it in one gulp. “I almost didn’t come,” she confessed.

  “I would’ve been terribly disappointed if you hadn’t.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re just saying that.”

  I caught her chin between my thumb and forefinger. “I never say something unless I mean it.”

  “Okay.” Her voice was breathy.

  I allowed her to concentrate on her wine, giving her a few moments to settle. She broke the silence when she blurted, “Do you know you have the name of a Jane Austen hero?”

  I glanced at her, amused. “I don’t recall there being a Julian Fairchild in Pride and Prejudice.”

  “Not your actual name. What I mean is, Julian Fairchild sounds like a Jane Austen name. It’s like, the name of a well-bred gentleman.”

  I smirked. “How very ironic.”

  “You don’t think you’re a gentleman?”

  “Not in the traditional sense, especially since I plan on doing some very ungentlemanly things to you tonight.”

  She looked away bashfully, lifted her glass with a shaky hand and downed the last of it. I thought perhaps a change of scenery was in order. “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, but I’m too nervous to eat.”

  “Eating might counteract your nerves. Would you like to go to the restaurant or would you prefer room service?”

  She still wouldn’t look at me when she replied, “R-room service.”

  I smiled because it was the answer I’d been hoping for. I left some money on the bar to pay for our drinks then helped her down from the stool. I took her hand in mine, lacing our fingers together as I led her out into the lobby to the bank of lifts.

  “This is so strange,” she muttered quietly.

  I arched an eyebrow. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

  Her eyes widened. “No, no. I’m definitely going through with this.”

  I chuckled as we stepped onto the lift and I pressed the button for the tenth floor. “You sound like you’re about to have a tooth pulled at the dentist.”

  Ellen winced. “I do, don’t I?”

  Several other people got on and we stood in silence as the floors went up. I kept her hand firmly grasped in mine as I bent to whisper in her ear, “You look beautiful tonight. I can’t wait to be inside you.”

  “Julian,” she hissed, eyes widening.

  My smile was playful. “Relax. Nobody heard me.”

  When we reached our floor, I led her down the hall to our room.

  “Is this how you usually operate?” she asked. “You meet at a hotel?”

  “Sometimes I go to clients’ houses, but I prefer hotels. It’s a neutral middle ground.”

  “You never bring them to your flat?”

  I opened the door with my key card, gesturing for her to step inside. “No. You’re the only client who’s ever been to my home.”

  “Oh,” she breathed, her expression thoughtful. “Is that problematic?”

  “Not unless you plan on stalking me.” Ironic, since I was the one who’d semi-stalked her not too long ago. I kept that information to myself, for now.

  She gave a soft giggle. “I don’t have any current or future plans to stalk you, you have my word. Besides, I’d be terrible at it.”

  I shot her a flirty look. “I disagree. You’re a master of disguise.”

  She swiped my shoulder. “Shut up. Elodie’s the only disguise I’ve mastered, and she hardly blends into the scenery.”

  “You’re right, she stands out,” I said, gently pulling on her hair tie so that her curls fell around her shoulders. “So, does Ellen,” I went on quietly. Her gaze was on my hand, eyelids lowering. She blinked then stepped away, took a deep breath.

  “So, room service?”

  “Menu’s by the bed. Order whatever you like.”

  She walked woodenly across the room and I knew I still had my work cut out getting her to relax. It was expected, since she’d only ever been with one person. This was all new and scary to her.

  Ellen sat on the edge of the bed, the menu on her lap, her tone deceptively casual when she asked, “Have you ever slept with a virgin before?”

  I sat down on the armchair by the window, crossed one leg over the other and clasped my palms together. I hadn’t been with many virgins, or near-virgins, in Ellen’s case, but I had been with a few. It wasn’t something I shied away from, merely a fact of life. Everyone had to have a first time at one point or another.

  “Several, yes.”

  She still didn’t look at me. “Were they clients or…”

  “Most of them were clients.”

  Now she glanced up. “So, they hired you for the specific purpose of losing their virginity?”

  “Correct.”

  “Well, that makes me feel a little better.”

  “You don’t need to feel self-conscious in the slightest, Ellen. I’m fond of you exactly because of who you are, that includes your experience or lack thereof.”

  She ignored my compliment. “I think I’ll order the chicken. Do you like chicken?”

  “I love chicken.”

  She closed the menu, lifted the phone and made the order. She also included a bottle of wine, but I hoped she didn’t plan on getting drunk. I wanted her to relax, but I also wanted her lucid. I wanted her to feel every moment of this night right along with me.

  “Tell me about one of the virgins,” she said, turning to face me now, all business.

  Since we were in private, I indulged her request. “The most memorable was a lady in her mid-forties. She was a university professor of mathematics, had devoted her life to her studies, but she’d never had any romantic interactions with a man. She felt she’d gotten too old to put herself out there, which I disagreed with, but anyway, she hired me because it felt less intimidating than going to a bar and trying to pick up a man.”

  “And you did it? You took her virginity?” Ellen asked quietly, leaning forward.

  “I did.”

  “How did she feel afterward?”

  “She was happy, I think. She never hired me again, so I’m not sure if she ever went on to find someone or if she simply went back to her old ways.”

  “That’s what I fear will happen to me,” she revealed. “That I’ll be alone forever.”

  “If you are, it will be by your own choice. You can be with someone, Ellen, you just need to be brave and overcome your fears.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to do,” she muttered.

  “Come here,” I said, voice soft.

  Her pretty eyes flicked up and she visibly swallowed. She stood and closed the distance between us, standing before me. I placed a hand on each of her hips. “Sit on my lap.”

  Hesitantly, she placed one knee on the armchair, followed by the other so that she straddled me. She held her body up, and I had to press on her hips to coax her to sit.

  “Hi,” I said, our faces close. I touched my nose to her chin and nuzzled.

  There was a moment of frantic breathing before she replied, “H-hello.”

  Carefully, I removed her glasses and set them on the side table. Next, I grabbed her hands and placed them on either side of my neck. Being close like this was a good start. I trailed my fingertips along the underside of her arm when I spoke low, “Is there anything else you’d like to ask me?”

  She bit her lip, looked away then back. “Do you always know what your clients look like before you meet them?”

  Interesting question. “No, a
ctually. We only speak on the phone.”

  “So, you make a decision purely based on their personalities?” She appeared to find this curious.

  “I do. I’ve had sex with all manner of women, Ellen. Big, small, young, old, beautiful, ugly. If we have a connection, looks are irrelevant.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because, in order to have sex with someone, you must need to at least find them a little physically attractive.”

  I continued to stroke the underside of her arm, enjoying her small, pleasured inhalations. “That’s true for many people, but not for me.”

  She scrunched her brow. “Why not for you?”

  I took a moment to consider how to answer. It was a deceptively complicated question. “Because I’ve had sex with countless people, and from a very young age. The way I think about it, how my body reacts, has evolved. To put it in simple terms, I don’t become aroused by seeing a naked, beautiful body. If I see two people being intimate in porn, for example, I find it appealing but not titillating. For me, sexual arousal is a much deeper thing. It happens when I find something hidden inside my partner, something only I can see.”

  Her fascination appeared to override her shyness when she asked, “Have you found that in me?”

  I caught her cheek in my hand, pulled her closer and replied, “I found it quite a while ago, Ellen.” I angled my head and pressed my lips to hers lightly. I could feel her pulse hammering away as I bent to taste her again. Her mouth was soft, her movements unsure, but she definitely enjoyed the kiss. I continued to press my lips to hers, nibbling at her, opening her up until she submitted to me. Her mouth finally opened fully, and my tongue swept inside.

  She was so innocent, so new to all this. I savoured the way her body trembled, how she fisted the collar of my shirt, pressed her soft breasts to my chest, unable to get close enough. We kissed fast, then slow, then long and lusciously deep. I relished kissing someone new, someone who had layers I’d yet to discover. It blew my mind to have her react to every little touch, every press of my lips, every flick of my tongue.

  I was lost in her, completely and totally swept away. I didn’t know how long we kissed, but it must’ve been a while because we were interrupted by a knock on the door.