The Call Girl and the Businessman Ch. 00-01

"Only if you would join me." I said.

I gathered that it would be a good time to engage in small talk. Knowing what made a client tick made it easier for me to find out how to make him a satisfied customer.

He asked me what I wanted to drink and spontaneously I said red wine. He gestured for the waiter, skimmed the menu in a haste and ordered two glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon.

I sipped my wine in silence, taking care to smile at him, giving him my attention. I could see that he was somewhat affected by my presence. He eyed me, as most men do, from head to toe. He had a rough, rugged quality in his mannerism and I thought, out of the blue, that he could have been one of the peasants in the Potato Eaters. He could have toiled the earth very comfortably, and for that I would have given him a thumbs up.

"Let's cut to the chase. I'm afraid I'm not much one for small talk." He said, after I had lost count on how many times I had smiled at him.

"I understand. Shall we make a move to your place?" I asked, eager to cut to the chase as well.

He barely spoke. He did not seem engaging or friendly, and I would like to get it over with. He had a disillusioned look about him. I expected a rough, hasty round of intercourse; after which he would be satiated. Then I would be on my way, never to see him again.

I looked at him, concentrating on the spaces between his eyes. Some clients had gazes which unearthed me. I did not always look at my clients directly but I was aware that I should give the impression of making eye contact. People reacted best when they feel you are looking at them. That was the basic rule of customer service, jotted down in my current notebook. Looking between their eyes made it easier for me to talk and perform what was required of me. I did not have to study them intensely. Getting too involved was a taboo. It compromised feelings and the job. A superficial acquaintance was adequate to do the job. All also etched like stone in the current notebook.

He nodded. He gulped through all the wine. I could sip elegantly no more. To be honest, liquor did not appeal to me, right up till today. I had always ordered red wine because Penelope told me that I would be considered one at par similar to my client's status in society. Furthermore it was considered classy to have acquired a taste for wine.

He settled the bill with a generous tip to the discreet waiter. We made our way outside, and we started to walk to his penthouse suite. I tried to keep up with him. He was walking rather quickly. Now and then he turned to look at me trailing behind him with my three inch heels which clicked and clacked along the pavement.

People stared at us because he was walking so quickly and there was a sexily-clad woman who looked like she was chasing him. I, however, did not ask him to walk slower. I knew that I could easily beat his pace anytime I wanted, without those heels. Oh, for the want of looking the part of a sexy woman!

When he turned around the corner, I had lost sight of him. But I did know where the penthouse suites were. I had done my prep work. They were a hundred meters away to the left from where I was standing. A spur of the moment thought told me to just walk at my regular pace and go to the penthouse suites there. No need to rush for a client who did not have the decency to wait for his escort.

As I started walking down the parallel row behind the restaurants, I saw him walking up to me. He had retraced his steps. He looked at me, rather annoyed.

"Why had you not called me to slow down? It's obvious you couldn't keep up with me." He asked.

"You seemed to be in a hurry, and I did not want to slow you down." I said.

"But you have." He said, bad-tempered.

Our eyes locked, and I refused to back off his piercing eyes. A sudden rapture streaked through my entire body.

"I know where you live. I would have reached your place anyway." I said.

"I see you know a great deal more about me than I about you. That's not fair, isn't it? What else did the agency tell you?" He asked.

He was mad that I knew that little about him. Had he not thought about my privacy and safety concerns? As a female, my gender was always going to be at a losing end no matter how far society had progressed.

"Other than your name; it's just where you live. Nothing more." I said.

"But you know about my job, do you?" He asked, accusingly.

"I could have googled it but I did not." I said.

"Why is that?" He asked.

I was baffled at his reaction. His question was short and curt, fired like a bullet gun.

"Your job does not matter to me, Mr. Boardmann." I said, in all honesty.

When he caught my eyes again, his gaze went from stern to an understanding of sorts. He spoke again, trying to kinder this time.

"How can I be sure you're not out to get me?" He asked.

He was a paranoid.

"I barely know you." I answered.

He observed me like a hawk complete with a crooked beak. While he was partly agitated and bad-tempered, I was eerily calm.

My calmness must have convinced him that I was honest, and God, of course I was. Apart from name, address and payment, he was a total stranger.

"I have the impression that you would have preferred to be with someone else. If I'm wrong, can I take your hand?" He asked, rather forcefully.

I could see that he was used to getting his own way. I tried to maintain a fixed, friendly smile on my face. They say first impressions dictate the whole story. We had fallen flat on that first impression.

"There is no one else. I have promised to be with you tonight." I said.

I gave him my hand.

"You are aware of how much I had to pay for you tonight?" He asked.

I nodded.

I certainly did not meet his standard and frankly I did not meet mine as well. I was normally able to engage clients.

He took my hands then in his and we walked slowly to the penthouse suite without speaking more. My hands became drenched in cold sweat again but he made no mention of it. His hands just soaked up my clammy hands. I made a mental note to prepare my notebook for similar odd circumstances. Solution -- wear gloves!

Henry, the good, old doorman greeted us at the marble arch entrance. He nodded and I smiled my standard formal smile. We took the elevator right up to the fortieth floor; the highest floor of the serviced suites, which just opened for residence one month ago.

We walked along the wide corridors which were supported by avant-garde beams with arches reminiscent of an Italian garden. We arrived too soon at his door because I was in awe admiring the carvings on the corridor walls. The number 409 was carved into the door. He unlocked the door with a key which shone like gold. How appropriate, I thought. Even the key matched the architecture.

The same glow could not be said about its owner. Those eyes which had pierced me just now at the restaurant made me not want to look at him directly in the eye anymore. When he opened the door I took the chance to view him from my position at his side.

I did not take in to both the way he looked and his attitude. Not only ghastly, but menacing with a touch of arrogance. Years of conscious training had taught me to treat him without prejudice no matter what I thought privately.

Once inside, I took in with curiosity the full immersion of this architectural contemporary grandeur. It was a sight to behold. Though it was not my kind of style, it was grand and exploited to the maximum in its furniture, decorations, carpeting, flooring and even the abstract wallpapers plastered on the wall.

A Steinway grand piano shone like jewels at the far edge of the room. It looked new, and it had been polished till it reflected back what little light there was in the room. Its black silkiness and imposing width humbled me. Never had I seen such a beautiful piano before.

"It's a Steinway; a piano of good quality. I bought it when I moved in here because I wanted to learn how to play the piano. I never got round to it. Had other commitments." He said.

"I can see that it's really new. It's beautiful." I said, trying not to gush out too much excitement.

He must have noticed that my interest rested on his piano longer than any of the other furnishing in the room. Immediately I pulled myself together and directed my gaze to the pair of settees in front of us. I wondered if he preferred our intercourse to take place in the living room or in the bedroom, which I had yet to see.

The living room was wide and airy. I felt comfortable with my surroundings. The pair of settees faced directly the opposite of the other. There was a balcony, accessible via sliding glass panels; right in front of the living room. Clear glass panels displayed the view of the suburbs and the city which never sleeps from a distance. If you looked far enough, you can make out the outlines of the skyscrapers beyond the horizon, and that was at least twenty kilometres away from here.

"Where are my manners?" He seemed to be muttering to himself.

His gaze was beyond and over me. He seemed to be looking through me instead of at me. I looked at him. I tried not to twitch my fingers. It was something I did when I was felt uncomfortable. Instead I placed one palm on top of the other to cover my restless fingers.

"Do sit." He said.

Finally his gaze was aimed at me. It was quite an order, and I complied.

He took the seat opposite me, and looked at the whole of me, saying nothing at all. Then there was a flash in his eyes, as though he had remembered something. He muttered something incomprehensible. Then he rose, saying that he would be right back. I heard him open a door somewhere behind me and slammed it shut.

The slam of the timbered door jolted my ears. Five minutes later, I heard the door open and shut again. My feet were glued to the soft carpeting but I turned to look at him.

"I am sorry I kept you waiting." He said, looking quite apologetic.

I thought it strange that he should apologize for what I considered an acceptable waiting time. Yet the thought never crossed his mind about apologizing when he was questioning me like a bulldozer on the way to his place. He did not bother about my feelings.

"Not at all. You have a lovely suite. I was admiring the furnishings." I said.

In truth, I was hoping we would get started and end it soon.

He sat opposite me again, crossing his legs while looking at my face, at my cleavage and then at my face again. Both his arms rested languidly at the arms of the settee. I took it as a hint to start undressing for him. I had worn a lilac cardigan over my little black dress and it was purposely left unbuttoned. I removed my cardigan and placed it beside me. His gaze was on me all the time. The eyes which had cast its spell on me at the restaurant forced its way in again. I tried not to fumble with my undressing. I started on the flimsy straps of my black dress. I was going to pull down a strap when I felt him touching me on my shoulders.

He pulled the strap back up. Surprised, I could only look at him.

"You're beautiful, I know, but I would rather not." He said.

I just froze and felt like a fool.

"I'm rather tired tonight. If it's alright with you, could I just have the pleasure of your company without anything else?" He asked.

"Oh...of course." I said.

I felt absurdly silly. I thought that I knew how to read my clients. Quickly I grabbed my cardigan from the settee and I buttoned myself in, missing an alternate button. The front right of the cardigan was longer than the left. It must have looked such a sight but he did not seem to notice. I felt too embarrassed to re-button them. If he did notice, he said nothing at all, just as he did with my clammy hands.

"I'll get some more wine. You like red, isn't it? Is Pinot Noir alright? I do not have the Cabernet Sauvignon that we had at the restaurant. " He asked.

"Yes, thank you." I replied.

In truth, all red wine had a certain blood-like pungency to them which I disliked. It overwhelmed all other senses. I needed to be in touch with my senses; especially the sense of smell.

Two glasses of red wine were placed on the coffee table between us. I took a sip. This time he sipped it in an unrushed manner while those eyes of his were unwavering on me. His gesture was cold and calculated.

"I have just moved in here to get away from the hell of the city out there. What are the places to visit in the suburb here?" He asked, placing down his glass on the coffee table.

None of my clients had asked me about places to visit here. They had no interest whatsoever except in sex. The rare client just wanted company, and I think he was one of the rare ones. I was thinking of a standard answer but I did not have any. I made another mental note to prepare a standard answer once I reached home. It was out of habit that I predicted questions and prepared answers beforehand. Heaven forbid that I was caught unguarded.

He sensed my hesitance. Because he sensed it, I felt I was out of my protective armour.

"I've never thought of it. No client has asked me this question before." I said, speaking the truth.

Why on earth would I tell him that anyway?

"Are you not from around here?" He asked, with a hint of curiosity.

"I moved here three months ago but I do know the area very well. I used to live in the city." I said.

"I can imagine that this is the perfect place for your type of romantic escapades. You have many clients here?" He asked wryly.

"I moved back here because it is my home." I said.

"Are your regular clients here to? Care to tell me more about them?" He asked.

"That's confidential, Mr. Boardmann." I said, thinking now that he was being very rude.

"Well done. You passed my test." He said, with approval.

I looked at him, not understanding his answer.

He saw my baffled face and he laughed.

"I can trust you. You don't go babbling or comparing your clients to others." He said.

"It's standard practice in the industry. You can trust me. Further what we do is not exactly mainstream and we try to be as discreet as possible." I replied.

I saw satisfaction in his grin. I continued to answer his initial question.

"You can go to the boulevard. It's the main attraction here. It's packed all summer- day and night. There are also the many museums, fancy restaurants, parks with marked walking routes, shopping malls..." I said.

I did not think that he liked shopping particularly but malls came to my mind. I shopped a lot. Part of the escort / call girl job description was to look good. I wore a lot of heavy make-up as well to cover the blemishes on my face. I had to look picture-perfect for the job.

"The boulevard is like a can of sardines. I could hardly walk there without bumping into hundreds of people. Too touristic. And I thought I was in for an idyllic, rustic life. Some false advertising by the realtor." He said, shaking his head.

"That's not completely true. If you walk past the touristic part, it is actually quite idyllic. Vast and empty in fact. The whole boulevard is fifteen kilometres long. Only the first five kilometres are jam-packed with tourists because that's where all the hotels, restaurants and malls are." I said.

"You think that total emptiness is something I particularly enjoy?" He asked.

He smiled for the first time that night.

"Yes, you seemed to have indicated so." I answered.

"Well, I do like the right company." He said.

He looked like he was thinking of the right company but since I was not sure what kind of company he meant, I chose not to comment on that.

"The subsequent ten kilometres give you an unblocked view of the sea without all those tourists. You can watch the sunrise and sunset. There is also more flora and fauna. The migratory herons build their nests there. You can watch them catch fish. Part of the area below the boulevard is a preserved national park. It's a unique slanting nature reserve because it goes down all the way to the sea. A few small cafes and the public library are also along this route." I said.

The main road and the boulevard were on the same level on higher ground. This was done on purpose to stop the encroaching sea from eroding more land. The precious land in the suburbs raised the property market ten-fold in the past three years. A man-made barrier was made comprising of rocks and sand. Dune grass was planted to keep the sand in. This barrier sloped all the way down to the sea. This was where the herons built their nests. This was the nature reserve.

"Are you sure? I drove past this evening after work and I saw nothing." He said.

"When you speed along the way, you cannot catch what's going on because you have to look over the boulevard. The side walls of the boulevard are too high for you to see anything, especially from the main road. You have to climb over to see the part which slants into the sea and then you reach the nature reserve." I said.

"Hmmph..." He said, making a sort of irritated grunt.

Either he was irritated with me, himself or with the nature reserve. Either way, I did not want to fan his irritation.

"Anywhere else noteworthy?" He asked.

"The art museum? The history museum? The toy museum? The stamp museum? There are at least ten museums in this suburbs." I said, rather rhetorically, in my effort to be accommodating.

I was not sure if he liked museums. Most people did not, I thought. At least when I went there, they were normally quiet. Only the toy museum was very popular because children got a free toy. I surmised that was why if families were to choose a museum, they chose the toy museum; all for the free gift.

"If you are into museums, you can get a museum card, so you get extra discounts. It comes with free public transport." I continued.

Almost immediately I chided myself for saying that. As if he needed discounts to go to museum-crashing by public transport.

He smiled at me again. This time his smile seemed to mock me.

As I was quiet and feeling silly as silly goes, he started to ask me questions again.

"I gather that you like shopping. All women do, don't they?" He asked.

"For my job, I have to shop. It's for you, the client that I look and dress the way I do." I said.

"What about you, personally?" He asked.

"To be honest, these days, I'd rather stay home and repaint my walls. It's an ongoing project." I said.

"That's quite an undertaking. Isn't it easier to hire people to paint for you?" He asked.

"I have specific requirements for my walls, and already three painters around the area have declined my generous offer." I said.

"Quite some requirement you have there then." He said, with a twinkle in his eye.

I shrugged.

"That's why I do it myself. So I can please myself exactly the way I want to be pleased." I said.

He seemed rather amused at my preoccupation with painting.

I took a few sips of the wine, and so did he.

I looked at the balcony behind him. The moon was full; an exuberant yellow amongst the dark skies. Lights from lower buildings beamed on and off the glass panels.

"You have a lovely balcony view." I said, changing the topic.

The next second, he had risen to sit beside me, looking beyond the balcony to the nuances of grey-black colours which seemed to disappear into nothingness, if not for the lights of nearby buildings and those in the distance which gave the clouds its shapes. It was a starless night, but the moon; how full and bright she was.

"Damn the realtor. Those buildings of the city. Not far enough. I can see my office from here. You see that one there?" He asked, pointing to one of the further lights.

I nodded. I thought he had good bearings for how could he be so sure of a tiny speck of light some twenty kilometres away?