The Call Girl and the Businessman Ch. 02

The uneasiness I felt spiralled into frustration. I was mad at him for making me think about myself from varying spectrums. I felt like a prism. I was splayed into different angels and colours. I knew the past three years had been somewhat volatile; not that the clients were physically violent or abusive as they were in the past; rather it was my feelings which played havoc with me. Like sunlight dancing through a prism, its angles always changes. I could not get a grip on any one of them long enough to comprehend them. And for better or worse, I did not try.

I did not know if he was waiting for me to speak more. If so, he could be really patient if he wanted to. I thought of how bad-tempered he was yesterday because I could not catch him up on the streets. Thinking it was too long a silence to be considered courteous conversation, I broke the silence.

"Standard practice is that we call girls should be accommodating to our clients, but only as far as we are willing to go. Both parties should only engage in sexual acts if their feelings are mutual. There is no rule that sex should take place, although it is expected." I said.

I added, "We did not have sex because you did not want to."

Then he asked gently, "And yourself? What do you think about all these rules?"

"I follow them?" I answered.

I felt that the whole conversation was a tautology- the chicken and egg argument. Which comes first?

"Well, pretend that you're at a job interview. What would you say to the interviewer when asked to describe yourself?" He asked.

Since the only words which came to my head prior to that were messed up and lost, I had to rack my head up.

"Punctual, efficient, listen to instructions. I guess that's being compliant." I said, smiling a little when I came to this realization.

I had my standard answer now which was not controversial at all. No one would bat an eyelid here.

"Thank you for answering my questions." He said in a professional voice, as though we were in the midst of an interview.

"Go on. Ask me any question you like. It is only fair that you ask me something in return; otherwise I would feel like a big bully." He said.

I had none. Could it be due to my compliant nature or because I had no clue what to ask him? I did not judge him or formed an opinion about him. He was a bottomless pit of enigma to me.

He was not surprised that I did not answer.

"Come on. Is there not anything you are curious about about me?" He asked.

"I only want to know what you want to tell me, Mr. Boardmann. It is not in my nature to pry for information." I said.

He grunted incoherently. He was irritated with me. He quickly rose from beside me to the settee opposite. Now he faced me directly.

"That's better. Now I can see you instead of staring out at my damn office." He said, concentrating his attention exclusively on my face.

Because I felt uncomfortable, my gaze skittered everywhere except on him, but eventually I looked him at the spaces between his eyes. The ridge of his sharp nose.

"I have yet to decipher you. You are like a strange and mysterious creature in a fairy tale. How lovely it was to feel the warmth of your hands caressing my troubled head last night! If only you knew how much it soothed me and how close to me I felt you were... Yet when you talk to me, you are detached, getting away by saying as little as possible, just like you're on autopilot. Alas, there is a fragility in you which is almost poignant, as though this surface of calmness would break if not handled the right way..." He said, with an agitated tremor in his voice.

Even though I was concentrating on his nose, I could not escape those eyes. They pierced me greatly and I absorbed its impact with my very own. I felt waves of emotion rush into my face, causing my eyelids to brim with tears.

"You're dramatizing me into an image of sorts, to suit your own tastes." I said quietly.

My eyes were heavy with tears. I felt frustration and sadness. I wanted to punch him right in the face. Was I becoming violent? Then I chided myself for my preconceived thoughts of violent behaviour. I hated violence!

"That's it. I see some emotion there. You're on the defensive. You despise talk of yourself. You get upset about it." He said.

"That's not true. I despise..." I said, keeping my tongue in check.

I was about to say "you".

"...meaningless conversation." I said.

"So much so that it makes you upset." He replied.

He spread his arms wide.

"I am nothing to you but a money-making machine. After tonight, I would never see you again. Is that not enough reason to open up to me?" He asked.

"I am opening up to you in the way I know how. You are not easy to talk to." I said.

"That is true. I am a brute. I meant what I said yesterday. I can do better, and I will." He said.

My eyes felt the heaviness of unwanted tears.

"Such power though in those eyes of yours! I feel much scrutinized by you although you cannot bear to look at the brute before you." He continued.

There was a summon in his voice. I could not hold back the urge not to look at him. He had called out to me from within.

"Finally, you look me in the eye." He said.

Our eyes met. I was drawn into the grey wolf's lair. Piercing my soul. Those wretched tears flowed down my face. Neither had I sobbed nor had I made the slightest sound as to be heard. It was my eyes which betrayed me, but I was still very much in control of my other faculties.

"Lila, I'm so sorry. I did not mean to make you cry." He said, over and over again.

Instantaneously he was by my side and his arm went around my shoulders.

I shuddered at his touch. His skin was warm, mine was cold. The contact of his arm around me heightened my mixed sensations. I did not want him to treat me this way. I wanted indifference. It was easier for him too not to care about me, I would gather.

For the most part, I found it easier to manage my fluctuating feelings if he would just let me be.

"I'm fine, really. I just..." I said, blinking away my tears and rubbing them away from my face.

It was impossible to continue when I felt confusion. My heart was beating wildly. I felt that he could hear it.

"I'm confused about everything you said." I said, finally.

This meeting was a disaster. There I was, a self-professed confused wreck.

I shifted in my position on the cushions, hoping that he would take it as a hint to release his arm around me. He noticed my fidgeting but he took it in his stride to grasp me tighter and nearer towards him. It made me wonder if he interpreted my actions as my want of him to comfort me or if he had completely disregarded my discomfort lodged in his arm. I could not read that countenance of his.

"You have to know, Lila- I rather like you; strange as you are. I feel like we have known each other for a longer time despite the fact that it was only yesterday I laid my eyes on you. I'd never do anything to hurt you. But it seems that I have overindulged and overexpressed my innermost thoughts, and it has taken its toll on you. I regret that deeply." He said.

His voice was low but rich in an emotion of sorts.

His free arm patted me on the head. It felt strange to be patted on the head. I thought it belittling and rather demeaning but he had looked at me with such concern in his eyes that I brushed aside those thoughts.

I was mesmerized by him. Had his eyes pierced me like before? They had, yes, but there was a concern inherent in the grey of his eyes, and I felt enough warmth and fuzziness inside that I stopped crying.

"Damn it. I have a beautiful woman in front of me and I am not making use of the situation." He said loudly.

He scratched his unruly mane of hair and still dissatisfied, he knocked his own head with his palms. Clearly he did not approve of himself. However I would not have violence of any sort. Just as quickly, I reached out for his hands and I grasped them with mine.

"Shall I undress for you?" I asked, looking at him in all honesty and confusion.

Remembering the aftermath of last night's failed attempt, I felt that I had to ask for his permission should I make a blunder, and a fool of myself twice in a row.

"Not yet, Lila. Not yet..." He said, almost in a whisper.

He had started afresh by shooting out questions at me. I wondered when he would want sex. Not that I was feeling even a little sexual. Far from it but I could always fake my desire for it. Sex was better than talking like this.

"Lila- is it your real name?" He asked.

"No, it's not but I like the colour of lilac. I could have named myself Lila." I said.

He did not pry upon my real name. Escorts do not give out their real names for safety concerns.

He attempted to lighten up the sombre atmosphere.

"I can tell with your lilac cardigan yesterday, and your lilac shawl tonight." He said, with a smile.

Instead of a cardigan, I had come with a lilac shawl tonight. We were just past midsummer and it was warmer than it was yesterday. I thought too that the shawl did little to cover my cleavage compared to the cardigan. It was of sheer fabric and it left something to the imagination.

"If I may ask, where are you originally from? You speak with an accent I can't quite pinpoint, and that irritates me. I have travelled to many countries and I had always prided myself in the subtle art of knowing where someone is from. You can always infer certain traits in a person by virtue of their place of birth. I'll know you better then." He said.

I thought that was discrimination sugar-coated; used by people like him to judge people whose way of life they were ignorant of and had every reason to think themselves superior.

"Is that so?" I asked, without thinking.

"I see that this is your first question aimed at me." He said with a chuckle.

He turned downwards towards me again; his lips accidentally brushing my temples but his arm still held me at his leisure.

I let out an inarticulate puff. I should have said something else. He just loved to talk.

"Good question. I shall attempt to justify myself. We are all products of our upbringing and environment. Through years of conditioning, sometimes we do not know any better. Ignorance is bliss." He said.

"I was born in Thailand. We were a farming community initially before development polluted the crops. To make ends meet, we moved to Bangkok when I was ten." I said.

I hope that he was satisfied.

However he barely acknowledged my reply.

"You seem to disagree with me that certain traits are inherent in people from specific regions?" He said.

I looked at him, blinking twice. He was perceptive. By just three words I uttered he had gathered that I disagreed with him.

He was pushing me into conversation which was only bound to agitate him more if I were to speak my mind, for on this matter, my opinions were well-defined. He was a man who was full of himself and who disregarded whether or not his companion wished to speak.

"I'll use myself as an example. I am half-German and half-Dutch. I inherited the worst of traits from both cultures." He said, then turning to me briefly to continue.

"Mind you, not the good ones, but I'm sure you know that already, don't you, Lila?" He asked.

I nodded. Seeing me nod, he sighed before he carried on.

"From the German side, I am stubborn and terribly hard to please. From the Dutch, I am direct to the point of bluntness and I complain all the time. I am hot-tempered. I am calculating. That's good for business though." He said, making his point clear to me.

He eyed me, as if nudging me to speak.

"I guess if you view it that way, then it goes without saying that Thais generally avoid confrontations. They also conform with and tolerate others well. And this proves your theory right because I am compliant. I want to try to avoid disagreements with you, right now if I can." I said.

"But you disagree somewhat? Because that's not how you would define yourself, is it?" He asked.

"I was born Thai but I have lived in different countries in Asia and around here. I learn from new environments. I lose old cultural upbringings which I do not relate to anymore." I said.

"I see. Those years must have been an eye-opening experience but challenging at the same time." He said.

I nodded. I did not wish to elaborate more. The years in Asia were basically the darkest years of my life, minus my early childhood in the farming community.

He looked as if he expected me to say more. So I made a narration up. Over the years, telling white lies got easier and easier. Plus, all my jobs involved lies.

"I enjoyed myself immensely discovering new cultures and languages. I met new people, made friends and simply had the time of my life. The more I saw, the more I wanted to travel." I said.

I smiled from ear to ear.

"Lila, that's a bit too enthusiastic for you. Are you not the liar? You seek to placate me. You seek to humour me and nothing else." He said.

His statement hit me hard. I was just trying to say what I thought he wanted to hear but I was unearthed as a liar.

I pleased everyone, even outside the call girl job. It was not even personal.

Who would have wanted to hear my real life story? The story of a child, out of poverty, was flung into prostitution by her own mother? Abused and raped and finally years later there was some salvation but it came at a cost.

There was always a contradiction in what I did and who I felt I really was. I felt throngs of emotions like rain which would not stop. I rebelled inwards but the reasons why I did not comprehend. I could not catch them; could not grasp them. I was lost in thoughts not comprehended. That's why I reverted to my secret shields. They double up as coping mechanisms. I needed scents. I needed the musky saturation. The scent before rain.

His arm had remained steadfastly around my shoulders all this while. I had gotten use to the pressure of his arm there. It was somewhat comforting.

Now I answered his accusation.

"I do. You seem to overlook the fact that you paid me to placate and humour you. By accepting your big fat sum as you called it, I am under the obligation to placate and humour you. Was that not the purpose of hiring me? So that I can please you in whatever way you want." I said.

He scratched his head; his thick brown curls getting all messy.

"What a fool I am. It did not occur to me that we have started off on unequal bargaining power. Yes, you're right." He muttered under his breath.

I watched him closely.

"But let me make this clear, Lila. I am not your typical client. You can call me whatever you deem fit. You must speak your mind to me at all times. That is how I would like you to placate and humour me. I want us to be on equal footing." He said.

"I may say things which you do not wish to hear if I speak unfettered." I said.

"Then so be it. I must hear it anyway. That is how I would like our relationship to be. Take me then as your sparring partner. I value honesty and I hope you do too." He said.

"I do. But my life story really isn't worth telling." I said.

"Then we start afresh again. Lila, I am Matthias. I am pleased to have your acquaintance." He said, giving me his outstretched palms, finally letting go of my shoulders.

We shook hands, grasping each other's hands tightly. This time, I grasped his hands tightly too.

"Mr. Boardmann, I am pleased to have your acquaintance too." I said.

I felt the déjà vu of our first meeting.

"Call me Matthias." He commanded.

"I'm glad you slept better last night, Mr Board...I mean, Matthias." I asked, catching myself but not quite in time.

"Thank you for being by my bedside yesterday." He said.

"The pleasure was mine." I said.

It was a standard answer. I prided myself for all my pre-prepared questions and answers. When someone says thank you, always answer with "the pleasure was mine" as it sounds more melodious to the ears than "you're welcome."

His thick eyebrows twitched and I could sense a question coming up.

"You're being too kind. I don't see how it was such a pleasure for you to babysit me while you sat straight up in that tight dress of yours. It must have been such a chore." He commented.

Perhaps "the pleasure was mine" was not so suitable a standard answer after all. I have to distinguish thank yous between clients whom sex is proffered to and those whom I did not have sex at all.

"Now that you are supposedly honest with me, tell me, do you want to stay the night?" He asked.

I shook my head.

"I'd rather go home." I answered.

A rather disappointed smile curled up his lips.

"See how simple it is to be honest!" He said, in a calm voice.

I bit my lower lip. I saw that my wine glass was still half-full. I took a few sips. It is a good tactic to hide my nervousness. He seemed to imply that I really was dishonest but I was not.

"You're not much of a conversationalist, are you?" He asked.

I shook my head.

"My body does all the talking. I'm very sure that I am not hired for my talking skills. That would be for a different job." I said.

I was quite sure that he would want sex today because it did not materialize yesterday but I thought he liked to take it slow. However the main motivation for sex was that I could not bear to talk to him anymore. How could he resist me? I faced him and started caressing his hair, like I did yesterday. He caught my hand in his.

"When you touched me like that, I felt safe." He said.

Colour rose to my cheeks. None of my clients had told me that they felt safe with me before. They had told me that I made them feel good about themselves and that they were satisfied with my services provided. They said I had a beautiful body. Quick, easy and no strings attached.

"I can make you feel more than just safe. I can make you feel..." I said, murmuring into his ear.

My lips skittered over his left ear, teasing his ear lobe with erratic pressure.

I heard him release an incoherent guttural sound. I felt him losing a bit of control, and I relaxed. I was used to men surrendering to me. I was used to taking charge, at least in the beginning of sex. I was good at foreplay. Let it happen, please, and then things would get easier from here. No need for all those awkward conversations. Let actions speak louder than words. I believed in actions, never words. Never promises, never undying declarations of love. How many clients have told me that they loved me only to dump me when they found a prettier one or that they were unable to leave their current partner? Yes, in my first year, I had a few stormy relationships with clients turned lovers.

My hands took a step further. I rummaged under his shirt, felt his bare chest. I felt the warmth of his chest and his beating heart respond to me. He did groan...but no, something was not right. He said no, no, and no! Three times in a row. He just had to emphasize it. I felt his sexual arousal. It was raw and very real. How could he say no? Was I not giving him pleasure?

He acted like I was not there. He stood up and steadied himself. He unlatched the sliding glass panels and headed towards the balcony. It was as if something or someone was luring him outside.

All his unpredictable behaviour rendered all my notebooks useless. I remained where I was and watched as he cast a forlorn figure of himself; his hands gripping on to the cold metal railings of the balcony.

"Matthias..." I called out from inside.

"Mr. Boardmann." I called out a second time.

He seemed not to hear me. Instead he was engrossed in his own world outside in the darkness which devoured him. The wind was blowing wildly. His collared white shirt flapped frantically in the wind against his lean torso. It was as if the wind was his unseen seducer; taking him on a voyage of sensations.