This Is Who I Am, This Is What I Do

I thought back on his comments on my site both about me and to me. This sounded like the same person. I offer a soft smile looking up with my eyes, "I like that." I thought for awhile chewing my lip gently, "That sounds interesting." and I lift my drink for a toast. He lifts his with a smile as I say, "Tarik, it is a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine."

"So what brings you to NYC?"

"Business. I am negotiating with a number of different parties over a business contract. I am the second son of a very wealthy business family. My father wanted me fully Westernized, so I could 'understand the Western mind' and be our company's negotiator."

"Where is your family from? if you want to share that is."

He shrugged. "With a little digging, you could easily find out; the U.A.E."

"So you are a long way from home," I had been watching our waiter who stood expectantly at a good distance, but never was approaching. I started to suspect he would never approach unless asked. Tarik saw my eyes and glanced in the waiter's direction. "Appetizers? " I asked.

He nodded and I called the waiter who brought us menus. Tarik naturally drew more of the waiter's attention with him being male and quite a commanding figure. Tarik noticed it irritated me and forced the waiter to engage me more directly. We placed our orders, baked clams and calamari followed by salad. He ordered fish for his entre and I, pasta in a cream sauce.

"Not really a long way from home, or at least I have many homes. I keep three apartments outside of the UAE, one here in NYC, one in London and one in Brussels. I spend far more time out of the UAE than in it."

"So if you could live anywhere permanently, where would you choose?"

"Could live? If it was my choice, I do not want to live permanently anywhere. I love the diversity and love the change. And you? Where would you live?"

I shrug. "I don't know. I am young and have not really traveled, but I like the Northeast USA, and I like my hometown. I have my friends and my family, and I value those." Value those? I thought about the conversation with Amy in the car ride up and winced.

Noticing the wince, he nodded, "Family. Can be wonderful, but is rarely easy. My family does not really understand me nor fully trusts me. They brought me up to be Western, schooling me in Europe and the USA. None of us should be surprised that we don't understand each other. His eyes were distant as he recalled specific events, none of them seemingly too happy.

I gave a wry laugh, "Well, I grew up in the same house, and I don't think we understand each other."

"It can be hard for parents to accept that we have our own lives." He gave a hearty laugh. I am 52 and still expected to answer for my choices." I looked surprised, thinking he was in his mid 40's maybe. "Anyways, it is good to get out of the house."

"I need to do that," I said with a roll of my eyes, but I thought about how I might want to stay until things blew up, enjoying the time I have left.

Tarik raised his eyes in mild surprise. "You still live at home?" I guessed you made enough money to be on your own."

"I do, but the money has been recent; maybe I am enjoying the last weeks or months of seeing my mom each morning and all those little family moments."

He paused and looked very serious. "So they don't know, do they?"

I frowned, pausing to collect myself. I thought about shutting this line of conversation down, but then I slowly shook my head. "Do you have a sister?" I asked. He nodded. "And how would you feel if she was doing this?"

He thought for a long time. "I was going to say she never would. I should say she never could. But if she were to do this and really want to do this, I would like to think I would not mind. I would like to think so, but it is hard to say for sure. My father would not tolerate it."

"Neither would mine, I don't think. Gosh, this turned heavy very quickly." I looked up at Tarik, "Let me make this clear. I want to be here. My family is upper middle class, so I am not desperate for a job. Does it bother you that I want to be here?"

He shook his head. "I don't think less of you, if that is what you mean. You don't seem desperate, cynical, or exploitative. I see a lot of that in young women in this trade. Also, I have spent too much time with women in your trade to disrespect them for it."

I sat back and crossed my arms to clearly express my displeasure. "In young women, but not in young men, or men in their fifties?"

He put his hands up in mock surrender, "Men too, men too. I find people in general, at least people trying to spend time with me, are usually desperate, cynical or exploitative. It is just that I have met and worked with a lot of women in your profession and I was thinking of them in particular.."

"Really? A lot of women?" I asked, still annoyed and perhaps more annoyed.

He offers me a small crooked smile and in a jesting tone responded, "Does it bother you that I want to be here? Judge not lest you should be judged."

I shrugged with a small smile.. "You're right. Looking down on you would be like looking down on me."

He nods, "And I did say I like diversity. No one city, no one woman and I do typically pay above market value."

I thought about pursuing that comment, because it reminded me that I was merchandise, but I said nothing. What did he say that was wrong? Nothing really. I am bought and sold for the night. Amy's voice echoes in my head, "Passive voice again." True enough Amy. I should say that I sold myself for the night and this is the man who bought me. The appetizers came.

The evening wandered onward and we made small talk through the main course. He had a love of math and of music. We spoke of western media and gender norms. He was far more conservative than me, but liberal for a man in his fifties. He was inquisitive and made fun of his own tendency to mansplain. He also asked questions about what I had to say and listened with an open mind. However, instead of just placating me or saying what I wanted to hear, he held his ground and often pushed back. I found the conversation thoroughly enjoyable.

He also had an almost preternatural ability to steer conversations and he could be very assertive without being condescending. I could see the negotiator in him and it captivated me. Part of me began constantly analyzing how he was doing it. Towards the end of the main course finally called him on it, "You always try to be three steps ahead in a conversation. You say what you say to direct the conversation on a known course. I start to wonder how often you say what you really think."

He looked irritated, and almost snapped an answer back, but then he paused and smiled giving a nod of almost approval, "Guilty as charged. It is a good skill, and I am proud of it."

"You should be," I agreed, "but do you do it with everyone?"

He thought for a while, stroking his beard, "No one has ever asked me that before. I guess I do. It comes almost automatically now. I guess that is pretty damn manipulative of me."

I laughed heartily at that, "No, not really. Most everyone does it. Just about every college boy at a party tries to guide the conversation to sex and having sex. It's just that you are really good at it. I think most people try to be as manipulative as you. It is natural. It's just that most of us are not very good at it.

"So, Andrea, what are my goals for this conversation?"

"Oh, the obvious one. You want me to invite you back to my room."

"True enough, I will admit to that. It is a bit uncomfortable to hear it said so directly, but it would be a lazy and stupid lie to say otherwise. However, to be fair, I also wanted to get to know you and to have a conversation that was enjoyable. What were your goals of this conversation"

I smiled, dropping my head but raising my eyes to look at him, "To see if I wanted to invite you back to my room." As I said that I nodded to the waiter to bring over the dessert menus and clear the table. Tarik started to answer, but the waiter arrived.

Once the waiter was gone, Tarik laughed. "You did not think that would distract me enough to forget what you just said."

I shook my head slowly, "I am sorry, the dessert menu distracted me so much, I forgot what we were talking about."

He chuckled, deep and low in his throat. He pulled out a pad and a pen from his breast pocket and wrote something quickly in a spidery beautiful script. He folded it up and handed it to me. "Don't open it until you walk into your room." I looked at it curiously and up at him as he spoke again. "Trust me, it is nothing important. Just an idle little thing."

I looked at him curiously, "So you are thinking I am going back to my room by myself?"

He shrugged. "I think what I think, but why should I guess. If I tell you yes, then it is presumptuous of me, and it would probably lower my chances of the goal we both said I am trying to attain. If I say no, I sound pathetic and lacking in confidence. See, there I go calculating."

"Maybe just say the truth." I respond with a slight smile to take the sting out of it. As I said so, I slipped the paper into my purse.

He raises his eyebrows in mock surprise and indignation, "So you get to evade questions, but I do not?"

Shrugging, I quip, "I elect to evade that question. Ooh, I bet the tiramisu would be delicious!!"

He laughed, this time a full throated laugh, loud enough that everyone looked. Tarik turned and raised a hand to the rest of the patrons in apology as he got his laughter under control. "Yes, I do bet it would be delicious." Dessert was delicious, the coffee divine, and we chatted our way about artificial intelligence and the philosophy of science as we sipped and nibbled.

I quietly looked at him during a comfortable lull in the conversation. I liked him. He was so different from Andrew. Tarik exuded confidence and experience. He seemed capable of talking intelligently on any topic and knew how not to make me feel stupid even though I knew so much less than he on most any topic. At one point I called a comment I made stupid after he, politely and obliquely, pointed out a fallacy in my logic. He laughed gently, which I first took as condescending, but he explained himself, "Andrea, I wish I was half as intelligent and well-spoken as you when I was your age. Of course I know more about a lot of things. If I didn't then I would be the fool, for what would I have been doing for all that time? "

I thought of him in the suite with me. I could not see him turning into a monster there. I worried I might not be willing to do what it takes to fully satisfy him; part of me worried if I could satisfy someone who had been with so many women before me, some of them true professionals in their (our?) craft. However, I think he would even be kind were that situation to arise.

The waiter, sexist like most men, handed the check to Tarik, which broke me out of my reverie; I put my hand out for it. After all, Tarik had paid me $10,000 for the arrangements. He shook his head, and I protested, "But Tarik, you already paid for this."

"I thought you promised not to talk about money!" he protested in mock indignation. I started to respond, and he looked at me very seriously, " This is like buying a coffee for you. No more arguing. This is not a measure of your pride or of my generosity. It just makes sense. "

I nodded. He was right. He nodded along with me. He paid the check, and we headed for the door. I put my arm in his and Amy caught my eye and I gave her a quick smile. I slipped into my coat, "Would you care to go to my hotel? It is but a few blocks" I then remembered he came in wearing just his suit. " You have no coat, do you want to call a cab?"

He smiled at the word cab. "My car is right outside." He must have felt a slight hesitation, "but getting into cars with strangers might be dangerous."

"Tarik, I did not mean..."

"No," he interrupted, "I understand and I want you to be comfortable."

"But won't you be cold?"

"Yes, briefly, but I am sure they have coffee at your hotel. Do let us walk briskly though."

"We stepped outside and parked in a hydrant out front was a luxury European four seater parked at a hydrant. As we turned toward my hotel, the passenger door popped open and a well dressed, athletic man jumped out. I looked over my shoulder, in alarm, but Tarik gave off an air of annoyance, but not of concern.

"Sir, what are you doing?" the young man said nervously.

"Being interrupted. This is not your job. Follow me if you wish, and I have my phone if needed." Tarik never slowed his walk as he spoke to the man, so neither did I.

"But where are you going?"

"With her, to her hotel."

"Well, we should dri..."

Tarik's voice got very stern and very quiet, "Leave, now."

"But..but..yes, sir," he stuttered, and scrambled backwards toward the car.

Before I could ask the question, he answered, "He is part of my security detail. They are not happy right now, because I am making their job difficult. They are well paid and should well remember that it is not my job to make their job easier."

"Security detail?"

"Kidnapped, I am worth a lot of money. My entourage includes two as security, one the driver as well, and my personal assistant."

I sighed. His world was so different than mine. He commanded respect, but also was just so accustomed to commanding. What he demanded of others seemed so exacting, but not for me. With me he wants to feel normal. I can do normal, at least I think I can for a while, but do I want to make out with him on a couch? Once we start will he really be okay with "stop" in the heat of the moment? Arm-in-arm outside in the cold air we felt like a couple. I looked up at him as he strode purposely beside me. His strides were long and I took almost two steps to his one, but I am quick and conscious of the chill he must feel, so I kept pace.

"How about your security detail?"

I laughed, "People like me don't have security details."

"I was speaking of the woman at the bar on our way out."

He actually noticed. I thought of lying, but what was the point? I don't think he was seeking confirmation. "Oh, well, yes, she is a friend. Seemed only prudent."

"More than prudent, smart."

***********************************************************************

The blocks passed quickly and we entered the warmth of the lobby, quickly working our way to the elevators. Our elevator came swiftly and we were brought up to the 53rd floor of the building. In the elevator we made small talk about the quality of the hotel and he apologized as he took a moment to text his security.

As the elevator moved and he typed on his phone, my stomach started to churn. I had a few minutes to figure out what I was going to do. What would it take for him not to leave disappointed? What if I panicked? By the time the elevator doors opened, I was almost nauseous. Still arm-in-arm we walked to my door and I opened it. Hanging my coat in the small lobby I led him past the small kitchen into the living room.

I turned to face him, taking a step back. "So," I said in a slightly embarrassed voice. Let's order some coffee."

"Forget the coffee. You are nervous, maybe even scared. That will not do. Maybe I should leave."

"No, no I just don't want to disappoint, but I am not sure how far out of my comfort zone I can go."

He nodded, and walked the length of the room taking a seat in the chair near the short end of the white L shaped couch and nodded to the couch. I sat next to him at the end of the couch.. "Be honest with me, do you want to do anything sexual?" he asked. I nodded. "Why? Aside from the fact that I paid you. Aside from that, why?

I blushed and looked down, but couldn't find words. "If you have no answer, then the answer to your first question was no. So let's do something else. We could watch a movie, play cards or perhaps chess. Do you play?"

"Yes, I play, but no. Tarik, there is an answer. You are tall and handsome in a way few men are. You can dominate a situation, but feel no need to dominate every situation. Whereas others make pretenses at confidence or put on a veneer of confidence with their cologne, you are the real thing. You have great strength, both physically and by your very presence, but you often choose not to use it and you seem to enjoy the gentle as much or more than the firm.

"You are good looking, but intimidating. When I first saw you I felt like a mere child, yet you treat me as an equal. You can inform without condescension and you listen to understand rather than to interject. Everything I know about you I like."

He smiled, his cheeks coloring slightly. "Those are very kind words. Thank you. I try, Andrea, I try."

I continued, "You are also empathetic and kind. When you won the contest, I thought your fantasies were expectations, and I was scared, but you knew that I was afraid without me even telling you and you laid those fears to rest the best you could. And Tarik, do know I loved those fantasies, because in them you were gentle and loving."

"Which was your favorite?"

"The one that starts with you brushing my hair. I love the feel of someone else brushing my hair."

"Think on that for a moment. Where is the restroom?"

I pointed the way. While he was gone, I texted Amy quickly, "All good so far. We might be a while. Whatever is going to happen is going to happen slow.

He came back but passed his chair and moved behind the couch. I leaned back to look up at him. He looked down at me, saying "Here's the rules. You say stop, I stop. You say leave, I leave. You say I want to do something else, we do that." He lay my hairbrush he had filched from the bathroom on the back of the couch beside my head.

I shivered mostly from nerves, but also a hint of expectation, and I slowly nodded. His hands, embracing most of my head, gently lifted it. With surprisingly deft fingers for a man his size, he undid the hair tie at the bottom of my French braid. Slowly his fingers combed out the twists of the braid and then he began to gently brush my hair. I felt the brush pass through and the gentle pressure of his hand following. As he continued I felt tension pass from my body. He gathered my hair behind the couch and laid my head on its back. He was so tall my eyes were staring up and past his belt buckle just above my forehead. I felt a twinge of nervousness, but also a slight tingle. As he looked down on me his thumbs began to massage my forehead starting at the center and slowly working outwards. I close my eyes. When his thumbs reached my temples, he cupped the rest of my head in his massive hand. I feel his fingers wrap under my jaw and gently rest on my neck. With thumbs gently rubbing my temples he whispers, "Your silence could be pleasure, only acceptance, or perhaps even resignation."

I open my eyes and smile with my mouth slightly open, "It feels wonderful." I mumble in a far off voice. He continues massaging my temples, but his other fingers start to gently stroke my neck and jawline. I slowly lick my top lip with the tip of my tongue and take a deep breath. Deep down the anxiety is still there, but I feel a warmth growing in my groin. I feel my nipples harden and grow more sensitive against the lace that covers them.

His thumbs move to the hollow just behind my ears and his hands now rest completely on my throat. His pinky fingers trace the line of the choker collar between and the fleshy part of his palm opposite his thumb now rested on the collar of my jacket. I took a long breath and whispered, "One moment, don't move." Without moving the rest of my body, I unbuttoned the two buttons on the jacket and then leaned forward. In perfect synergy, his hands hooked the collar of the jacket sliding it off of my shoulders and down my arms. I slid out of it, and he set it aside on the back of the couch. I leaned back, putting myself back into his hands both literally and figuratively.