by Samson Weld
Sure, he was paying for her to be here and she would eventually sleep with him, but if you treated this as a date, you were more likely to have fun. If she had a good time, she would reward you in spades. He got closer to her black panties and suddenly she pushed him away.
“Aye, j’ai dit no eating!”
“Sorry,” he replied, loosely contrite, getting what she meant now by no eating.
He stood up and unbuttoned his shirt while she took her dress off. They both silently got naked. What she did was unceremonious. He might as well have been at the doctor’s getting ready for an exam. This was weird. In his experience, the girl would usually help out and then he would strip her. It was part of the ritual, part of the seduction. Not this time. It was almost clinical.
She went to get her handbag and sank to her knees in front of him. He looked down and found her fumbling through the purse until she found a condom. She ripped open the package with her teeth and took his member in one hand to get him ready.
Even though she wasn’t as beautiful or as polished as Amber had been this morning, he found it difficult to resist a woman playing with him.
She rolled down the condom on him, gave him a few tugs, and took him in her mouth. It had been a while since Nick had had a covered blow job—a CBJ, as it was referred to in his hobby’s jargon—and now he remembered why he didn’t like them. He barely could feel anything and her token in-and-out motion was downright boring. She even managed to scrape him with her teeth once in a while.
“Stop,” he ordered.
He backed away and pulled her to her feet. He got on the bed and she followed him. She succinctly lay down on her back and spread her legs after applying a dollop of lube between her folds. He hadn’t even seen her carrying the small bottle. She slouched there not even looking at him. She might as well have been a mannequin.
A corpse.
Maybe this was her particular kink? Nick got on top of her and sank in. He usually gave the lady a few moments to adjust to his girth, but Suzy obviously didn’t need this. She wasn’t that tight. Nick rolled his hips, thrusting in and out with long, deliberate strokes. He was trying to be as sensual as possible, for both their enjoyment, but she wasn’t into it.
“Another position?” he asked.
Without waiting for an answer, he rolled onto his back and carried her with him. She straightened up and bounced, riding him mechanically. He reached out to play with her chest, to roll her soft nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Still, she avoided looking at him.
She threw in a random moan every so often, but it was as fake as her small diamond earrings. Her lack of enthusiasm was starting to make him go limp. He tried to imagine he was making love to another woman, but her phony whimpers brought him back to reality.
He gently pushed her away and got on his knees. She got the idea and backed up toward him. He took her from behind and at last he was able to picture himself back with Amber. He closed his eyes and thought back to a year ago when he had visited Manila where he’d experienced an unforgettable threesome with a pair of twin sisters after a sensual massage.
“Yes,” he groaned.
He was getting closer. He pounded into her as his desire mounted at last. Yes, yes, a few more strokes! He closed his eyes, threw his head back, and buried himself to the hilt as he exploded within her. He hadn’t finished squirting when she was already diving away.
“Get off,” she said.
Her command brought him back to reality faster than he’d wanted. She rushed to the bathroom, lighting herself a cigarette on the way. She slammed the door behind her, leaving Nick stunned. He discarded his condom and slipped under the bed sheet.
Still bewildered, he looked at the ceiling. What the hell just happened? He was too exhausted to think coherently about the situation. Suzy came out of the bathroom five minutes later. Without a hint of grace, she joined him on the bed and lounged next to him. It was all an act, almost like corporate intimacy.
“Another service?” she asked.
“You know what? I know we still have over an hour left together, but I’m tired. I think we should call it a night.”
“No service number two?”
“No, thanks.”
She shrugged. “Okay.”
She hurried off the bed and proceeded to get dressed in record time, a cigarette dangling from her lips. She headed for the door.
“Thanks for everything,” he said after her, feeling it was the right thing to say although it was a blatant lie.
She offered a halfhearted smile in return and a second later she was out of the room.
Nick exhaled, shaking his head. “That was… interesting.”
He stood up and slipped into his underwear. He went to his laptop on the table and flipped it on. While the computer was booting up, he went to flush down the cigarette butts. When he came back the system was ready and he called up his favorite forum, his dictation software, and lifted his tiny microphone to his lips. With a few clicks, he browsed onto Suzy’s specific discussion thread.
“I’ve been hobbying for over five years and I must say I’ve just been through the worst experience of my life. It will surprise many of you because I’m talking about Suzy who has been wholeheartedly recommended by virtually everyone on his forum.”
He pulled himself a chair and sat down as he watched his words getting typed automatically on the screen.
“First of all,” he continued. “She wasn’t as good-looking as Big Zeus made her out to be. Maybe my expectations were too high, but she didn’t even look like her pictures. Can you say Photoshop? Anyway, I thought the service would make up for it, but she was one of the most restrictive ladies I ever met.”
He stood up again and poured himself a scotch from the minibar. He was no longer in the mood for champagne.
“No bareback blow job, no dining at the Y, no Greek, no kissing, and I wasn’t even allowed to touch her face. And her CBJ skills were akin to my skills in rocket science, which is to say nonexistent. It was my first time sending a girl away after only one service. All in all, I would’ve had a better time using new sandpaper on my privates.”
He read his review over for typos and clicked the Post button. He sat back in the chair and managed to smirk at the incredibly bizarre turn of events.
Chapter 8
The next morning, the offices of Hozalex Solutions were much livelier. It was Friday and the employees were giddy about the upcoming weekend. You could feel the energy in the air. People smiled, chatted animatedly with each other, exchanged pleasantries and their plans for the next two days.
It was almost like the last day of school, Nick decided. He could understand the excitement—it had to be this way everywhere in the world on Fridays—but he couldn’t join in. This weekend was all about work. He and Stanley were back in the conference room hard at work reading documents, taking notes, and wearing out their calculator buttons.
“Did I tell you I got my letter back from CBS?” Stanley asked without looking up from his laptop.
“I didn’t even know you had written to them.”
“Yeah, I wrote to their Reality TV division.”
“They have that?”
Nick stood up and went to a cart which had been set up in the corner of the room. It was loaded with computer printouts. He searched for one in particular.
“Looks like it ‘cause they wrote back,” Stanley replied.
“Why did you write to them in the first place? You’re thinking about leaving me all alone in the corporate world to get into entertainment?”
Stanley beamed. “I had an idea for the next Survivor.”
“You didn’t tell me about that.”
“I didn’t?”
“No.”
“Man, it’s a great idea, too. I call it Survivor: Maximum Security. You see, instead of going to some tropical island it would be set in a maximum security prison.”
Nick turned to his friend and nodded. “That’s actually interesting.”
At last, he found the document he needed and returned to his chair. He took a sip of coffee and flipped through the pages.
“You bet your ass it’s interesting, it’s totally brilliant, is what it is. Imagine, two tribes living in different cell blocks, gang rivalries, jail yard competitions.”
“Not many opportunities for seeing chicks in bikinis though, and that’s why people watch it in the first place.”
Stanley rolled his eyes. “Speak for yourself. Anyway, it’s all redeemed in challenges, my friend. Shanking folks in the yard, soap-dropping competitions in the showers...”
“That’s just nasty,” Nick interrupted, shaking his head in disgust.
Stanley was unfazed. “Check this out, the ultimate immunity challenge: gang rape.”
“Please, you’re grossing me out.”
“What? It’s all about endurance. The person who can withstand a ten-incher up their ass for the longest, wins.”
“Not fair, the chicks would have the advantage of familiarity.”
“Not necessarily, you’d be surprised.”
The taller man closed his eyes as he realized he may have spoken without thinking.
“That’s something I didn’t want to know about you, Stanley.”
“I’m not talking about me,” he said defensively.
“Then how do you know?”
“I read! Anyway, it’s not like we’re about to see it on TV.”
“What did CBS say?”
“They thanked me for considering them, but unfortunately they don’t read proposals since they develop all their material in-house.”
Nick chuckled at the whole conversation. He wondered if Stanley was putting him on. He had to be because even he had to know that a show like that would never make it on the air, not even on cable. Yeah, he concluded. It had to be his twisted sense of humor so he had to give him kudos for that.
The door opened and Anne-Marie walked in. Her eyebrows were creased as if she was bummed out.
Nick picked up on it. “Something wrong?”
“We just had a call,” she said, fidgeting at the end of the table. “It turns out William Aylward is in town.”
“Yeah,” Nick said. “We saw him at our hotel.”
“Your hotel?”
“When we checked in, he was in the lobby talking to people.”
“Holding court,” Stanley added.
“Damn,” Anne-Marie whispered.
“Anything wrong? No offense, but you sound like you owe him twenty bucks.”
She ignored the joke. “We think he might be here for us.”
At that, Nick stood up. He was truly concerned about this development because if it was about business, it involved him as well.
“What do you mean?”
She looked at him and Stanley, taking her time before speaking as if she wanted to be certain she wasn’t making this up.
“There are rumors,” she began.
“What kind of rumors, Anne-Marie?”
“There’s a strong possibility that Aylward might be here to take our company over.”
~ ~ ~ ~
Nick went back to the hotel on his way to lunch.
Well, an early lunch. Stanley was still at the office as he wanted to finish going through the targeted mission-critical infomediaries. Since this was more Stanley’s domain, Nick figured he would leave him be. He wanted to take a break before they got started on the second-quarter balance sheets, taking a fresh look at it.
Even though this was the computer age and one could argue that financial reports could be generated at the push of a button, the analysis definitely required a human eye. It was one thing for his investment firm to have the numbers, but they needed somebody to interpret them.
On paper, the business could be highly in debt, but this might have been a strategic move to kill the competition and therefore gain value in the long term. That was Nick’s gift. He could see beyond their numbers. That was why he made the proverbial big bucks.
Before lunch, he wanted to change out of his dress shirt and into something more comfortable. There was this little bistro in Old Montreal he couldn’t wait to go back to and the suit and tie would be out of place.
Ten years ago, he would’ve been modified to take his time and do as he pleased. Now he didn’t care. He was in charge and he could waste twenty minutes to change or have a long lunch. Besides, he was here for the whole weekend.
As he walked through the lobby, heading toward the elevators, a hand made contact with his arm, making his heart lurch.
“Mr. Nick Eversull?”
“That’s right,” he said warily, spinning on his heels to see who it was.
The New Yorker looked at the man. He was close to fifty and he was wearing a cheap brown suit he’d gotten off the rack. It was just a little too big for the man, not to mention wrinkled. Just as he was about to stereotype him as a cop, he flashed a police badge.
“I am Detective Claude Bédard with the Montreal Police. Can I have a few minutes of your time?”
“Uh, sure. What’s this about?”
“Do you mind if we go up to your room? What we have to discuss is of a rather delicate matter. You understand?”
Nick nodded and they both headed for the elevators. A thousand thoughts jumbled through his mind.
There was only one thing he could think about that would put him face-to-face with a police officer. However, he’d always been assured that the authorities in Montreal didn’t consider the escort business as a real crime. It brought so much money into the city that they’d be crazy to go after the clients.
Years ago, he had actually looked up the different laws and had discovered that in Canada the only thing that was illegal about prostitution was soliciting, operating a brothel, and living off the proceeds. He was certain that his meeting escorts didn’t fall in any of these categories.
They entered the elevator and Nick pushed the button for his floor. He wanted to ask him to start talking about why he needed to talk to him—after all, they were alone now—but his curiosity was mixed with apprehension. This couldn’t be good.
After the elevator stopped, they padded down the corridor and entered the room silently. Nick motioned for his guest to have a seat and they both headed to the round table by the window although neither sat.
“So, what can I do for you?” Nick asked, not sure if he really wanted an answer.
The cop smiled tightly. “I’m afraid I have some sad news. Martine Nadon was found dead this morning.”
“Who? I don’t believe I know anyone who goes by that name.”
“Maybe you were more familiar with her under the name of Suzy.”
“You mean...” Nick’s voice died in his throat.
“Yes, the same Suzy who worked at the Champagne Wishes agency. Her body was found in an alley on Ontario Street. You understand?”
“My God.”
Nick took a few paces around the room, stretching his legs and flexing his muscles. This was crazy. This was way worse than simple prostitution charges. He began to sweat and was terrified that the detective would notice. That would make him look guilty, right?
“We found her cellular phone which is how we discovered she worked for Champagne Wishes. I spent the morning over there and they assure me you were her last client last night.”
Nick turned to face the other man. He was agape. “What are you saying? That I killed her?”
“Not necessarily.”
“But I’m a suspect. That’s why you’re here?”
Bédard didn’t answer directly. Instead, he pulled a notepad and pen from inside his jacket. It was innocuous, but all we could see was the gold badge clipped to his belt and the pistol holstered next to it.
“Where were you last evening between ten and eleven, Mr. Eversull?”
“What?” Nick’s eyes were unfocused, looking everywhere at once, unable to settle on anything.
“Do you understand my English?” the cop asked.
“Yes, I understand.”
“Good. I asked where you were last evening between ten and eleven.”
“Right. I was in my room. Here.”
“With Suzy?”
The investigator was already scribbling furiously, writing more words than Nick had spoken.
There was no sense lying, Nick decided. Just like lawyers, he had a sense that police officers tended to only ask questions they already knew the answer to.
“Yes, I was with Suzy.”
“That’s good.”
“What?” Nick asked, confused.
“Most Americans usually don’t admit they were with an escort. They call their lawyer the minute they see a cop. You understand?”
“I did my homework, I know that by your laws I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You mean aside from killing a prostitute?”
“I didn’t kill her, I swear!”
Nick’s skin instantly went cold. This didn’t make any sense!
“But you were with her last night between ten and eleven.”
“Yes, I already told you that.”
“Then we have a problem,” Bédard said. “You see, my people have examined the body and there’s no doubt she was killed between ten and eleven last night. If you admit you were with her at that time, the timeline becomes an issue for you.”
“But I didn’t kill her, Detective.”
The cop looked at Nick for several seconds before speaking. He looked at his notes again as if he wanted to double check matters, as if he wanted to help the American, but things didn’t add up.
“I’m sorry, but you are in deep trouble.”
Nick sat on the edge of the bed. “You got the wrong man, mister.”
“I checked the airlines. You’re not supposed to leave Montreal until Monday. I suggest you stick around until then. You understand?”
With a sigh, Nick ran a hand through his hair, not fully grasping what was happening. This was surreal. He hadn’t done anything wrong and yet his life was fast becoming a nightmare.
