Love Story Of A Call Girl

"Why had you not called me to slow down? It's obvious you couldn't keep up with me." He asked.

"You seemed to be in a hurry, and I did not want to slow you down." I said.

"But you have." He said, bad-tempered.

Our eyes locked, and I refused to back off his piercing eyes. A sudden rapture streaked through my entire body.

"I know where you live. I would have reached your place anyway." I said.

"I see you know a great deal more about me than I about you. That's not fair, isn't it? What else did the agency tell you?" He asked.

He was mad that I knew that little about him. Had he not thought about my privacy and safety concerns? As a female, my gender was always going to be at a losing end no matter how far society had progressed.

"Other than your name; it's just where you live. Nothing more." I said.

"But you know about my job, do you?" He asked, accusingly.

"I could have googled it but I did not." I said.

"Why is that?" He asked.

I was baffled at his reaction. His question was short and curt, fired like a bullet gun.

"Your job does not matter to me, Mr. Boardmann." I said, in all honesty.

When he caught my eyes again, his gaze went from stern to an understanding of sorts. He spoke again, trying to kinder this time.

"How can I be sure you're not out to get me?" He asked.

He was a paranoid.

"I barely know you." I answered.

He observed me like a hawk complete with a crooked beak. While he was partly agitated and bad-tempered, I was eerily calm.

My calmness must have convinced him that I was honest, and God, of course I was. Apart from name, address and payment, he was a total stranger.

"I have the impression that you would have preferred to be with someone else. If I'm wrong, can I take your hand?" He asked, rather forcefully.

I could see that he was used to getting his own way. I tried to maintain a fixed, friendly smile on my face. They say first impressions dictate the whole story. We had fallen flat on that first impression.

"There is no one else. I have promised to be with you tonight." I said.

I gave him my hand.

"You are aware of how much I had to pay for you tonight?" He asked.

I nodded.

I certainly did not meet his standard and frankly I did not meet mine as well. I was normally able to engage clients.

He took my hands then in his and we walked slowly to the penthouse suite without speaking more. My hands became drenched in cold sweat again but he made no mention of it. His hands just soaked up my clammy hands. I made a mental note to prepare my notebook for similar odd circ.u.mstances. Solution -- wear gloves!