Love Story Of A Call Girl

I must be as good as the agency says I am. No wonder I am one of their top escorts. These days, I only accept reservations which pay a ceiling amount. I also request that Penelope give me clients who were older than me, unmarried and who had no special requests. I asked for older clients because I feared that I was thought of being too old by younger ones. I did not want to take my chances. They had never been good.

I also asked for unmarried clients because that meant no complications of a girlfriend catching us in bed or private detectives taking photos of our rendezvous. Lastly special requests meant specific s.e.x.u.a.l acts which I did not wish to engage in or perform. I was open to a submission, a little bondage here and there but not the full range of fetishes and BDSM. In short, the quickest, conventional no frills way appealed to me the most.

It was unconsciously at first when my hands stroked the back of his head; his thick, brown hair getting all detangled nicely. When I realised what I was doing, I continued because he loosened up his body; his shoulders relaxed from the hunch position he had unconsciously undertaken. I saw him heave soundless sighs corresponding to the rhythmic stroking of his head and detangling which I had started. I continued stroking his head gently with my hands.

He opened his eyes, and whispered, "You don't have to, Lila."

"I want to." I said, also in a whisper, because it was dark and because he whispered to me.

When he woke up the next morning, he need not brush up his thick, l.u.s.trous hair. He would have me to thank for it. However I would have long left hours before.

I heard the storm rage in this concrete jungle of the suburbs. Despite the fact that the windows were closed, the extreme musky saturation was in the air. There was something about him which smelt vaguely familiar too. I felt at home, strangely, like I was outside this penthouse suite with the scent known only to me. I saw lighting and thunder crash into oblivion from the door which was slightly ajar; giving me a view beyond the balcony.

I continued stroking his head, and then I sought to even out those furrows on his forehead. Those worry lines need not be there now. Another time perhaps, but not now when I was here.

The storm thundered on. Feeling languid by its sounds, I must have slept. When I opened my eyes, I realised that I had missed the storm. What remained were bubbles of water on the glass panes, wriggling down, catching other droplets of water on the way down. Up till now, I liked to see which stream of water went down the fastest. It was a game I played with myself to escape boredom.

I saw that dawn was approaching. The sun was rising and its beams illuminated through the bedroom in stripes. A ray of sunlight fell upon his face. I brushed a strand of hair which had gone awry to his temples back to where it belonged to that lush mane.

I looked at my client. He was still asleep on my l.a.p. He had barely moved the whole night. I had managed to keep my promise somehow. I would have known if he had nightmares for I was easily awoken. I was a light sleeper. Gently I cupped his head from my l.a.p and placed his head on the pillow. I saw him sigh in his sleep as I did that. Covering the blankets over him, I left the bedroom.

I gazed at the balcony view again, this time from the perspective of morning. She had risen. It was beautiful. Quietly and as nimble as I could be, I opened the door and was at the lounge. Henry was there, about to end his night shift. I smiled at him and handed him an envelope which was in my clutch. He walked towards the "Strictly for Personnel Only" door. Moments later, he handed me my duffel bag.

I had come prepared. I went to the restroom and changed into an inconspicuous jumpsuit with matching sneakers. I was on the streets in no time. I raised my head to look at his penthouse suite right from below. I saw only the balcony jutting out. I thought then perhaps it would have been nice to see some flower pots with flowers which stretched outwards. It would have made a nice view for whoever was gazing up.

With a deep breath to welcome the morning, I chose to walk the ten kilometres home. I climbed over the boulevard, and walked amongst the sandy dunes. I disturbed a few herons along the way, but I think by now, it was only a minor disturbance for them. I had been taking this side route for the past three years. I did not want clients to see me walking on the boulevard. These herons had recognised me. They squawked nonetheless but they did not fly away. Sometimes they let me stroke their young, and I liked that a lot. So innocent and unspoiled, unlike the hands which stroked their little heads.