The Escort

It was one thing to find out she needed to forgive herself. It was entirely another to find out she wanted to ask Matt's forgiveness as well, especially since he seemed to have known more than she would ever have given him credit for.

"We have to talk about this, Gael. We can't go on like this anymore."

His voice broke into her self-distractions, and when he turned her face up and forced her eyes to his, she saw a banked heat that she could not read. Was he still angry? Was he wanting her? She did not know the answers anymore. Maybe she never had.

"I thought you said it was over," she retorted, fighting to keep herself aloof, away from the pointed words that ripped her apart.

"THAT is over!" he snapped. "You will never see another man again."

His voice was a whip of command. He was not asking, nor merely telling her. He spoke with the force of an authority she knew she had given him the first time he had touched her. But she did not belong to anyone but herself, and no matter how she felt, she would not cede control to him. This was crucial, and she knew it.

"You don't make decisions for me, Matt!" she argued heatedly, hissing in pain when he gripped her wrists and pulled her up to stand before him. "I decide when it's time!"

She wished she knew why she was fighting to keep up the pretense that she would go back to the life she had let slide down the drain in the bathtub an hour earlier. Matt knew her too well, and it was this that frightened her the most. While she had been fooling herself into thinking she was free, he had seen how trapped she was, how ready for release. And yet, he had waited four years...ten men.

"Let me go!" she demanded, and pulled at her wrists. When he did as she asked almost immediately, she whipped around him on her way to the front door. "You need to leave. We have nothing more to say to each other!"

She watched him walk over to where she stood, her hand on the elegantly curved handle, ready to push it down and usher him into the darkness of a pre-dawn day. She inhaled deeply, and prepared to hear his final words.

"This isn't over, Gael. You can run, but you can't hide, as they say. And really, where can you run to that I can't find you?"

He stopped and looked at her, not touching her anywhere, and yet she felt him in her soul. The force of his emotions beat against her heart, against her body, making her head ache with a slow grief that she was letting him go.

"I'll be around," he said as she opened the door, and when he walked out, she watched him, unable to move until she saw his car back down her driveway and pull away...

Daylight found her sitting on the back porch, taking in the views of the golf course and the river beyond it. In the past, when her world seemed most topsy-turvy, and she felt like a marble about to roll off a high ledge, sitting here would give her space to ease her soul, to find her center again. But she had been up with the dawn, her robe still wrapped around her body against the early morning chill, and the song of the morning birds, which normally made her smile, today only made her feel how alone she was.

She could not keep her mind away from Matt, from his final words, from her frightened retreat into hauteur and dismissal. She knew all the reasons she should never see him again, starting with the fact that he had been a client, and even though she protested that she made up her own mind and wouldn't be ordered around, she knew his final demand was not one she would ignore. And now that she was no longer leading a double life, he would no longer be a part of hers.

That he would be around was immaterial, to her way of thinking. She had been his companion, both sexual and social, but she could not see him taking her anywhere now, not without the promise of an after she could no longer give him. She believed him when he said he wouldn't sleep with her again except for all the right reasons, and as she couldn't think of any reason that would be right for him, she held out no hope of further intimacy.

She realized with a start, as the sun crept higher and warmed her face, that that was what she craved, and what he gave. Matt made any space they occupied together feel intimate, no matter what they were doing. And the longer she sat in the morning sunshine, the more she remembered of what they had done together. She wasn't surprised to recall that lovemaking -- yes, she had to admit that it had been more than animal rutting -- had been only one part of what had become a very faceted relationship. She turned her sight inward, away from the pinks and lavenders of the dawn, to the diamond that had been unearthed, cherished and burnished by the caring and concern that Matt had shown her.

She had never, even for a second, thought that he was being more than a kind man. She hadn't even dared to use the word 'friend', yet everything he had done with, to, and for her these past four years had shouted it. The impromptu picnics in front of the fire in their suite, when he had called and she had been down. The strolls by the river, swinging hand in hand like children, laughing at his silly jokes, smiling in peaceful contentment at the placidness of time spent with him. The crisply elegant dinner parties he had taken her to, where his business associates had all treated her like spun gold, and she had basked in their warmth, all the while praying they never found out what she really was to him.

She closed her eyes, the better to recall the ways in which Matt had changed her without her knowing. Even their coming together in bed had been a revelation for her. He was a highly sexual man, and his needs were primal. She had never left their suite feeling unsatisfied, as she had with the others. He had been attentive, from foreplay to afterglow, never rushing her, always waiting, as if he knew the reward for his restraint would be the earth-shattering orgasms that invariably had him roaring out his release into the pillows, or into the curve of her neck, or in the valley between her lush breasts.

She had always marveled at that -- how he was so uninhibited in his responses to her, when she had no idea what it was she was doing that made him so. He had taught her how to please him, and how to accept the many ways that he always pleased her. He was generous in his praise, even when she had felt, in those early days, that she was a bumbling idiot, and he was a too-patient master teacher.

Could she have been that wrong all these years, that blind, not to see that he had been weaving a web of intimacy around them? And if she had been blind to that, what else had she been missing? Her eyes flew open at the sharp cry of a morning bird taking to the air. She shaded her eyes against the sunlight, but the bird was flying into the sun, it seemed, and she could not see it.

It was time for her to break free, she knew, and this first step, this decision to call a halt to a lifestyle she had never truly wanted -- how had he known that? -- was merely the first step. If she were honest with herself, she did need to face Matt, to face the confrontation which had begun earlier, which she had run away from like a child afraid of the dark. She was not a child, and he was the light to help her find her way back to the woman she wanted to be. She didn't know how that would happen, but she resigned herself to it as she stood and went in to begin her day.

By mid-afternoon she had closed the bank account where she had kept the money for her services, cancelled the credit cards she used for the clothing and other accessories she had bought as part of the job, sent e-mails to all her clients advising them that she was no longer in service, closed that e-mail account, and closed her account at the trendy upscale store where she had shopped for her escorting attire. Her cell phone had been vibrating non-stop all day, but she had not even stopped to see who might be trying to reach her. If it was Matt, he could wait till she was done closing the chapter of her life where he and she were connected. And she was no longer interested in speaking to anyone else from that life. Closing the cell phone account was her last act, the final break between her and the life she no longer wanted.

Sitting in the car in the parking lot outside the cell phone store, she dialed the familiar number. Predictably, his answering service picked up.

"Matt, I've been out all day, so sorry if I missed your call. I'll be closing this cell phone account in a few minutes. I just wanted you to know before I did. I've already closed the e-mail account."

She paused, not sure how to say what else she knew must be said.

"If you need to speak with me, I'll be at home this evening."

She rang off hurriedly, feeling like a naughty child caught out on a school night after hours, and went into the store. She didn't think she'd have to pay to close her account, once she had paid the bill, because it had been more than two years since she had renewed the contract on it. When the final papers had been signed, the bill paid in full and the phone surrendered, she walked out feeling as though she had gone down two dress sizes. Her relief was immeasurable, and she could barely keep from smiling at total strangers.

The house was silent when she finally made it back down to the kitchen, the old pink sweats and tank top she wore picking up the glow of the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the french doors and the windows. She hadn't cooked anything of substance for herself in over a week, but nothing appealed to her, so she settled for two soft-cooked eggs and toast with marmalade. Lemonade washed down her simple meal, and then she turned to her office, and the chapter she had been neglecting.

It was almost midnight before she realized that she had not even stopped for a bathroom break...and Matt had not come. Pushing up from the desk, she went to relieve herself, and wished she could shake the hurt that was settling in her chest like a lump of clay. What had she expected, after all? He had been a client, she reminded herself as she went back to her desk, thinking to choke her sadness in more work. Only now, the words refused to come, and all she saw before her mind's eye were pictures of her and Matt.

She stood abruptly, knowing she could not sleep, and went to see what was on the television. Nothing beckoned, though she lingered on the news awhile. Maybe some music...she chose a favorite male vocalist, but soon his love lyrics had reduced her to hot tears, and she clicked the remote to silence the soundtrack of her misery. Matt had become like an addiction she had not known she had, and now could not rid herself of.

Her mother had been right, again. She needed a pet. That's what she would do; she'd go look online for a suitable pet. A big dog, that she could run with. Or maybe a cat to curl up with her when she was lonely...

The chiming of the doorbell wakened her and she scrambled to her feet, aghast that he would have come without warning when she was unprepared. She was not even dressed for company. A bitter smile dragged up the sides of her mouth as she opened the door to him, but one look in his face and all the anger and dismay fizzled beneath the weight of his weariness, and the turmoil of emotions that rolled off him. She ushered him in, in the way she had, forgetting for the moment that she was no longer an escort, and he was not her john.

He had loosened his tie, and it lay askew on his broad chest, his hair mussed, as though he had been running his fingers through it. She took his coat and hung it in the hall closet, and gestured for him to go ahead of her into the kitchen.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, and knew at once her phrasing was highly provocative by the heated look he slanted over her.

"Yes," he said almost angrily, "but I'll just have a glass of milk for now."

She didn't hide her surprise. "Milk? D'you have an upset stomach? I have something for that."

"Just milk, please," he insisted, looking away from her, before sitting at the round breakfast table. "And two painkillers, if you have them."

Matt watched her as she poured the milk into a squat glass, and when she came toward him with two capsules in her outstretched hand, he barely restrained himself from grabbing her. Instead, he took the pills, swallowed them, and then drank all the milk. The headache he was nursing had started when she had sent him away that morning, and it had been unrelenting ever since. Seeing her so casually dressed, her big breasts bouncing under the tank top, had his body reacting in the way it always did around her. Which did nothing for his throbbing temples, his simmering temper, or his aching groin.

Her voice shook him out of his thoughts. "I can make you something to eat, Matt. It's not a problem."

He looked her in the eye, and could think of nothing to say that would make what he was feeling better. So he just nodded, willing to let her escape for now, but knowing his control was on a tight leash, and straining to be loosed. He watched her fuss around, pulling things from the refrigerator and from cabinets, and before too long she placed a man-sized sub in front of him, along with a beer stein half filled with his favorite beer, and the bottle with the rest.

She smiled at him, a tentative upward shifting of her lips, and he could feel the suppressed energy crackling between them. In a heartbeat, it turned to raw lust when she touched his hand briefly, and his head pounded in time with his suddenly increasing heartbeat.

"Have you suddenly discovered a liking for this brand?" he asked to distract himself, pointing to the beer on the table. He happened to know she hated beer, and especially this brand. It was too bitter, she always complained. Yet here it was, sitting before him, cold from her refrigerator. He knew she was fighting her real feelings for him, and he was determined to break that wall before he left again...preferably in the morning. He hadn't been passing her off to all his friends and associates as his woman for the last few years for his health.

He bit into the huge sandwich she had made him, groaning at the spice and tang of the meat and cheese and seasonings she had spread inside the roll. She made him crazy with desire, and that he couldn't slake his unrelenting thirst for her was slowly leeching away at his legendary control. Eating gave him something to do with his hands, with his mouth, because he had meant it when he said he wouldn't make love to her again till they had sorted things out between them. It was time she knew the whole truth.

He took another bite, finding himself enjoying the mix of flavors, discovering that he was hungry after all, for more than her sweet flesh. And given the way his body tightened when she brushed by him to switch another light on, he would need all his strength. He could smell her unique scent, under the expensive perfumes that she liked to wear. He chewed slowly, concentrating on each bite, savoring the burst of tastes on his tongue, thinking about savoring her...

He swallowed the half stein of beer in three gulps, and poured the rest with a trembling hand. Ridiculous how deeply she affected him, how powerless he was to stop himself from reacting to her nearness, to her smile as she asked if he wanted another beer.

"You didn't answer my question," he said, instead of answering her. Time she felt the urgency that ate at him like a dog gnawing at his favorite bone.

"What question was that?" she asked, only the fact that she would not look him in the eye giving away her knowledge of the answer.

"When did you start liking this brand of beer?" He was unrelenting, wanting her to feel as charged up as he had been since last night.

He bit into the sandwich again, suppressing a moan at the way it coated his tongue with flavor, and at the way her cheeks reddened at his question. She knew that any answer she gave would tell its own story. She knew she couldn't explain away the circumstance of her having his favorite beer in her home. There was only one explanation that made sense, one that she seemed determined not to give him.

"Would you like another?" she asked again, still ignoring his question, and moving away to stand by the center island.

He nodded, and watched her take a second beer from the fridge. This time, when she approached him, plying the bottle opener, he grabbed her wrist, and took the beer from her hand. She didn't struggle, which would only have inflamed him. Apparently she knew he was on a knife edge, because she stood very still, watching him as he stood up and pulled her into his body.

"D'you feel me, Gael? Hmm? D'you feel what you do to me? Every damned time? All I have to do is THINK of you, and I'm hard. I want to bury myself inside you, lose myself in you, and stay forever. Can't you tell?"

His tone was harsh, angry even, and Gael stared at him in dismay. She could feel his arousal, could hear it in his voice, even with the fury he was suppressing. But this was a Matt she had no reference points for dealing with. She didn't know how to respond. She had sensed the turbulence of his emotions the minute he stepped through her front door, but she had thought, mistakenly as it now appeared, that feeding him would have calmed the storm raging inside him.

She held her big body perfectly still, waiting to see what he would do or say next. Her wait was over almost before it began, when he growled, a man at the end of his rope, and charged her mouth like an invading force. Matt had kissed her many times over the last four years, some of his kisses ravenous, but none had ever taken her past the edges of her control as quickly or as surely as this ravaging, almost punishing seduction of her lips and tongue. She could not gather herself enough to keep even the thinnest barrier between her emotions and his. She could feel the raging lust tearing through him in the kisses he planted on her, and she knew she was on the edge of a fathomless well of feeling with her at its center.

He pushed her away as suddenly as he had pulled her close, letting her go completely before saying, as he picked up the beer and drank from the bottle,

"Why do you fight your real feelings for me, huh? Why do you deny them?"

She swallowed hard, then took the plunge. Better to face her fate now than waste time running from it. Heartbreak had never killed anyone she knew of, so there was hope...she hoped.

"There's a rule about mixing business with pleasure, Matt. You know that!"

"We were only "business" till that first meeting, when you walked into the hotel dining room and we looked at each other." He looked at her, his eyes sharp. "Deny it, if you dare!"

She remained silent. It had been four years, but she remembered as clearly as though it were yesterday how the shock of looking into his eyes had reverberated through her body, and she would have stumbled if he had not stood and ushered her into the chair opposite his own. It had been as though she had known him well in another life. There had been none of the awkwardness that she had felt with all of her other clients, only a high-octane spark that had burst into flame, and that they each had tried to control.

"I want you to tell me the truth, Gael. Tell me how you really feel. Tell me I've been right about what's been between us for all these years. Tell me why you keep my favorite beer in your fridge when you hate beer. Tell me why you can't look me in the eye and lie to me!"

"Why do I have to be the only one to tell the truth, Matt?" she shot back. "Why don't YOU tell ME why you came back so often? If you could get your itch scratched elsewhere, why me?"

That was not the way she had meant to ask the question, but it was too late now to take it back, to hide her pathetic lack of confidence, to avoid the knowing, pitying look she feared to see in his eyes.