a lot overseas as a manager of a paper brokerage company. He knew some Spanish – I stopped reading. This man was either insecure or a bore. I’d have to find out.
I’d started to reply to Eric when my cell beeped. I picked it up. Thorne’s answer:
I can wait.
I picked up his letter from the floor, pressed it against my nose. I remembered his smell, his fingers squeezing my nipples, his erection rubbing against my ass, his tongue licking champagne off my sex. Maybe he could wait. I wasn’t sure I could.
I tore the letter into little pieces, watched them fall into the trashcan. I had to send him away for good. I picked up my phone and answered:
I’ll wear it tonight.
I walked into the Church Bar of the Tribeca Grand at exactly seven-thirty. I make a point of being punctual for my work appointments. Eric stood up as soon as he saw a woman walking towards him holding a yellow umbrella. His face went red when he recognised me.
‘Hi.’ I gave him a big smile to ease his embarrassment. Eric was too flustered to smile back, but helped me out of my coat and took my umbrella. I would have checked both, but a date’s good manners were important in the escort game. So far, so good. ‘It’s nice seeing you again.’
He ran a hand through his hair. Doubt was creeping into his face. ‘Are you?’ he asked. ‘The yellow umbrella?’ The umbrella was my identifying tool.
‘Yes, I’m the one.’
‘I certainly didn’t expect you.’ He let his eyes run quickly up and down my body, come back to my face. He was smiling now. ‘It’s my lucky night.’
I was barely dressed. Just a grey wool jersey long-sleeved dress, high-heeled purple suede boots. No stockings or panties or bra. Just Thorne’s gift – three tiny lace triangles resting on my nipples and sex, held together by an intricate web of black silk strings. I’d gotten wet just looking at myself in the mirror, thinking of what Thorne would do to me if I gave myself to him. I’d pulled my hair up to leave my neck bare, more kissable.
‘I know the owners of Close Encounters,’ I said. ‘They know I like to go out with different men.’ Eric looked good in a brown tweed jacket, flannel slacks, a blue shirt, no tie.
‘They sent you to test me?’
I sat down. ‘They just want an opinion.’
‘Well, that’s awkward.’
‘Let’s get a drink. That’ll help.’
He called over the waiter, Walter, the one who had served me the night before with Thorne. Eric asked me what I wanted.
‘A Cosmopolitan, perhaps?’ Walter said before I could answer.
I laughed. ‘Thank you for remembering, Walter, but tonight I’ll have a glass of champagne.’ Thorne must tip him very well, I decided.
Eric ordered Ketel One vodka and asked me if I was a regular here.
‘I have friends in the neighbourhood,’ I said. We started chatting about movies, plays we had seen or wanted to see. He didn’t start telling me too much about himself. He kept the focus on me as an escort should. What did I like to do in my free time? Did I like to travel? We exchanged the usual banalities of a first date. The minutes were going by, but I didn’t sneak a look at my watch even once. I wanted Thorne to show up. I wanted to see his face when he saw me with Eric, knowing I was wearing his garment underneath my dress. Oh, I couldn’t wait.
Eric and I kept talking. I did ask a few questions about his personal life, questions I thought some women would ask him. He’d been divorced eight years. No kids. His company had relocated to Iowa and he didn’t want to follow. He was doing part-time consulting work for an import company which might lead to a full-time position. We finished our drinks. Ordered a second round. I sneaked a look at my watch. By now it was eight-twenty. I let my eyes roam the room. No Thorne.
‘What happens now?’ Eric asked. He’d seen my attention waver. I downed my second glass of champagne to calm my mounting anger. Thorne was showing up late on purpose, to prove he was still in control. Or maybe he wasn’t going to show up at all. No, he wouldn’t have sent me that skimpy garment if he didn’t want to see me.
Eric leaned into me. He was wearing a lemony aftershave. Well, if Thorne didn’t show up maybe I would…
No. The whole point of meeting Eric here had been for Thorne to think another man was going to have me while I was wearing his sexy little present.
‘Do we have dinner here,’ Eric whispered, ‘or upstairs in the room? I don’t know how this escort business works.’
‘Like an old-fashioned date. Where your date wants you to take her is established beforehand. Once Close Encounters accepts you, the owners send you a manual of the dos and don’ts.’
‘Such as?’
‘Always be punctual. Have impeccable manners. Dress appropriately for the occasion. Keep your own problems out of the conversation. Know which utensils to use.’
‘Pick them up in the order they’ve been placed and the utensils above the plate are for dessert. Why do I feel like I’m back in grammar school?’
‘Look, some of the Close Encounters clients are rich dowager types who might want to take you to their charity benefits. You’ve got to make them look good.’
‘I have to bed them too?’
‘That’s not what you’re being paid for. What happens at the end of the evening is up to the two of you, same as with any date. Some women will expect sex, I suppose.’ A lot of them did and the price was negotiated up front. It wasn’t information I could put on the website or tell Eric. I was playing client, not owner. ‘I guess if you want extra cash for that and she’s willing to pay, that’s your affair.’
‘What about you? Is that what you wanted at the end of the evening? Not that you’d ever have to pay for it. But maybe it gave you a high?’
‘I’m not under discussion here, Eric. You are and let me remind you that men get a very big kick out of paying for sex. Why shouldn’t women? There’s also the chance that you might want to have sex with the woman you’re escorting without being paid extra.’
It was almost nine. He wasn’t coming. Had never planned to come. The bastard! May he rot in hell. May someone cut off his penis and stuff it down his throat. Ooooh, if I ever bumped into him again, I was going to scratch his eyes out.
Eric ran his hand down my arm. ‘I want to. Now.’ His eyes, full of desire, drank me in. Any other time I would have taken him home and worked us both to exhaustion, but I was too angry with Thorne. And, hard to admit – too disappointed.
I caught Walter’s attention and asked for the bill. ‘I’m sorry, Eric. I’m just here to give you a passing or failing grade. You passed beautifully.’
‘Thanks, but
