Free The Escort Next Door by Clara James Page A

crease of his eyebrow.
    Again, I nodded, my throat unwilling to cooperate in the
making of any sounds. I’d seen the phrase ‘girlfriend experience’ on the many
escort ads I’d seen online. And had been able to create an idea of what that
would entail. I was beyond grateful that David didn’t have an unusual fetish he
wished to act out with me. Girlfriend experience was probably something I could
just about manage.
    “So?” he uttered, his thumb slipping over a large wedge of
bills.
    “Oh, sorry,” I blurted shaking my head and realizing that
this had been leading to me giving him a figure for my services. “Well, that’ll
be...errr... $1800.” I spoke so haltingly and anxiously that I was worried my
inexperience would be obvious to him.
    He said nothing, while he flicked through the bills and then
pulled out a fistful of them. Silently, he placed the cash on the table, before
getting up and replacing his wallet in his pants. “Now,” he smiled, “that’s out
of the way, we can concentrate on having a good time. Would you like something
to eat?” he offered, visibly relaxing into the chair.
    The casual way he’d dealt with the payment seemed so strange
to me, and yet it was obviously necessary to separate the transaction and the
‘good time’. “Sounds great,” I replied, forcing a broad smile. In truth, I was
so scared I didn’t think I’d be able to keep anything down. But if he wanted to
have dinner, then it was my job to ensure he got what he wanted. Reaching
forward I scooped the cash off the table and slipped it into my purse.
    “You want to go down to the restaurant?” he asked, tipping
his head to the door. “Or should we just get some room service and eat up
here?”
    “Whatever you’d prefer,” I offered warmly.
    “Hmm,” he looked at me, while he thought for several
seconds. “On one hand, I’d like to have you on my arm. On the other, I’d kind
of like to have you to myself,” he chuckled.
    I felt uncomfortable not only with the way he spoke about
me; as if I were a commodity, but also by the way he looked at me. It was a
hungry, appreciative gaze; a look that reminded me of the way a lioness eyes
her prey. Of course, on the surface, I tried to let none of those emotions
show. And, I had to concede, I was a commodity of sorts. I was bought and paid
for.
    “I think it’ll be nicer to stay up here,” he eventually
said, cradling the back of his head in his hands. “We can really talk,” he
added.
    While I drained another shot glass of vodka, David called
down to room service and ordered for us both. I don’t even remember what I had,
I know I didn’t spend long choosing, sure that I wouldn’t touch any of it any
way.
    However, by the time the meal arrived, I’d had another shot
and was beginning to feel much more relaxed.
    David had professed an interest in learning more about me,
but I’d successfully been vague in most of my answers and flipped the questions
back to him. As he talked about his career as head of a sales team for a
pharmaceutical company, I almost forgot the circumstances under which were we
meeting.
    “What about free time?” I asked, unconsciously sticking my
fork into a piece of ravioli. “Any hobbies?”
    “Ha,” he exhaled. “What free time?” He was quiet for a
moment, as he poured himself another glass of the red wine he’d order with the
meal. “It feels like I’m always working, that’s certainly what my ex thought.”
    “Oh, I’m sorry,” I quickly apologized when I noted the
sadness in his eyes.
    “Don’t be,” he dismissed with a wave of his free hand. “It’s
not your fault.” Carefully placing the bottle back down, he picked up his glass
and lifted it to his lips, flashing me a smile before taking a mouthful. “But
it’s been tough since she left,” he admitted. “My ridiculously busy schedule
makes it impossible to meet anyone and I’m the kind of person that hates to be
alone, you know?”
    I nodded, remembering