“You’re trying to do the right thing, you want to do the right thing, but there’s just no light at the end of the tunnel.”
I nod my understanding. I know exactly the place Rome describes. I’m intimately familiar with the raw terror it can evoke at three am in the morning, when you wake in a cold sweat for the umpteenth night in a row.
“Anyway, I was at my wits end early one morning in LA. I’d been up all night it seemed, couldn’t sleep, so I walked the streets, looking for inspiration or whatever. More likely, I couldn’t stand to be in the four walls of the fleabag motel I was staying in because I couldn’t afford to get an apartment, that’s how broke I was. I was one step away from being homeless. It was such a slap in the face from the life I’d lived in New York.” He shakes his head as if still trying to believe it was possible it had happened to him.
“I stopped at this diner for a coffee and donut. My feet hurt from walking, and I was just done. Seriously, I could have gladly laid down and died just to escape the worry, the exhaustion, and the complete despair I felt. Then this woman walked in and slid into the booth opposite me. She looked as exhausted as I felt, and I knew straight up she was a hooker and had obviously just finished a hard night.
“At first, I thought she was looking for another John. Then she said she thought I looked like I could use a friend. And was she ever right. Looking back, I have no idea where I’d have ended up if she hadn’t have come along that night.”
I watch the emotions play out on his face. I can see just how deeply, he still feels and remembers the desperation, and I know immediately, escaping the helpless feeling is a big part of what drove him and made him the man he is today.
“We got to talking, and I don’t know, the damned coffee was like truth serum. The next thing I knew, I was spilling my guts to her. My whole sad tale of woe. It just came pouring out like a waterfall.”
So many things are starting to make sense to me. What he’s telling me is helping me put together the pieces I’ve been wondering about.
“She just sat there and let me pour it all out. Then she looked at me and asked me this question. ‘Do you own a suit?’ It seemed like a totally bizarre thing to ask me. Of course, I owned a suit, several in fact. I was a New Yorker after all, we lived in suits. Then she asked, ‘do you know how to treat a lady right?’ To that I answered, ‘of course.’ I’d been raised right. I was college educated. I’d live in New York and experienced the finer things in life until very recently. I had no idea where this conversation was going. Then she asked me, ‘are you good in bed?’”
An instant smile grips my face. I know the answer to that one first hand.
“I told her, I’d never had any complaints. Then she said she thought she could help me out. To which I asked her how? That’s when she about floored me. She said to me, ‘ever thought about becoming an escort?’ Well, you can imagine my surprise at her suggestion. I’d never even considered it. But I was so desperate, and I had no time, I was prepared to try just about anything.”
For the next hour, she told me all about the game. She also told me she had a male client who was looking for a man to satisfy his wife.”
I can’t suppress the gasp from coming out of my mouth. What?
“Who does that?”
“Oh, my innocent Oz. It’s far more common than you think in tinsel town, especially. Many couples have arrangements, such as those. Anyway, I spent most of the next twelve months as the male companion to a very wealthy woman.”
“Oh, my God. How on Earth did you cope with that? Was it weird?”
His mouth pulls up in a nonchalant manner. “I played her bodyguard and driver in public. An acceptable image and cover story for a woman in her position. In private, I was her lover, and in return, I cleared my debts and then some. The first few times, with her, it was weird. But she was very good to me, and I genuinely liked her as a person which made it easier. Once I mentally reconciled it all, it was fine. I figured I was being paid to do a job, and I’d better do it to the best of my ability. No different than if I’d still been trading or working whatever other job.”
When he put it like that, it made sense. I’m sure he’s downplaying it, though. It can’t have been easy, surely?
“I also had time on my hands. You can’t exactly spend every waking moment in bed, after all.” He looks down and winks at me with a cheeky grin.
“You sure about that?”
He shrugs it off with an easy smile. “One thing I quickly realized was the woman I worked for was not on her own. There were a whole swag of women in similar circumstances, wanting and needing the same type of service. They wanted class, and they wanted a gentleman. A man who knew how to devote his entire focus to them, rather than what they were getting at home, which essentially amounted to emotional and intimate neglect from their rich husbands.”
I’m still getting my head around it. “Husbands really don’t mind this?” Is the United States so different to Australia? I couldn’t imagine it flying at home, or was it I haven’t been exposed to those circles before?
“A lot women are divorced, but we do have a fair proportion who are married. Some even happily. They just get a kick out of being with another man. I’ve had quite a few husbands watch me fuck their wives. It’s their kink.”
I couldn’t imagine Phillip every agreeing to such a thing? My God, how do you go about having a conversation about taking a paid lover to your husband?
“I guess the business side of me kicked in, and I figured why not? I was already in the game, right? So, I took on more clients, found other guys to fill in the different looks and tastes the clients needed satisfied. And here I am, ten years later, owning arguably the most successful escort agency on the West Coast.”
Then all the pieces “click” together for me. “That’s what you meant by me having the luxury of time, where you didn’t.”
He nods, and his hand is back in my hair.
“Yes, exactly. What I didn’t tell you, but certainly understood first hand. I essentially chose this path because I couldn’t see any other, and I was desperate for cash. My back was so far to the wall, it wasn’t even funny. Once I started, things seemed to be working out, and I guess I just kept going with what was working.”
There was something I’d wondered for days. “Do you regret the decision you made?”
Rome rolls his jaw slowly and thinks about what I’ve asked him. “Yes and no. I’ll be forever thankful Roxie came along that morning and presented me with a solution to my problems. It took me a while, but I managed to work, or if I’m being really crude, fuck my way out of the financial hole I was in. From there, and once I got really going, I’ve made a pretty amazing living and invested wisely. So no, I don’t regret my decision from a financial point of view. The regret comes in around things like relationships and family.”
I can only imagine what his family thought. They’d have to be very understanding to accept his choice of career.
“My parents have basically disowned me. I see them very infrequently. They still don’t get I didn’t make this decision to hurt or shame them or because I’m some sort of sexual deviate. I’ve been accused of all those.”
I don’t miss the hurt in his voice and words, and I wonder how his family could be so cruel. Sure, it wasn’t a career choice that would sit well but he took responsibility for his problems and did what he had to do, to get himself out of a financial hole.
“I made the decision to survive, and this was how I could do it. I took the tools they gave me, my body, my looks, my upbringing and made the most of them. After the first year, I guess the ball kept rolling, and I’m very competitive. I always want to do better. So I did.”
He pauses then, and I know he’s trying to figure out how to break the next bit to me.
“Then, of course, there’s the whole relationship thing. I wouldn’t ever enter a relationship with anyone while I’m still doing this. It’s not fair to her or me. That’s the real penalty you pay
in this job.”
I feel incredibly sad for him.
He brushes the hair from my face and looks down at me with what I read as harnessed regret. “Don’t Oz. I think of it like taxes. You don’t want to pay the price but you don’t have a choice.”
We both chuckle a little; no one likes to pay taxes.
“Anything else you want to know?”
There is one thing I want to ask, and I think he knows exactly what it was. In fact, I’m sure. It’s almost as if he’s daring me, challenging me to ask the unsaid question which has been hanging between us for a little while.
I’m feeling brave. Hell, I have a waxed pussy, ridiculously sexy lingerie, and a sky-high pair of Louboutins. Femme Fatale are now my middle names thanks to Rome.
“Do you ever think about giving up?”
He gives me an impressed nod. “I was wondering if you had it in you?”
“I’m starting to realize, there’s many more things I’m capable of than just running a cattle property.” And I give him what I hope, is a sassy wink of my own.
“Touché, my dear. Let me just say, of late, I’ve been considering my end date far more often than I did two years ago.”
And I could read many things into his answer, just as he intended. It could mean anything or nothing.
Don’t go there, Carlene.
What you’re feeling, it’s not real— a beautiful fantasy.
Live in the moment.
His hand is back on my breast. “Now you know my life story, I think intermission is over. What do you say, beautiful? Want to come up here and ride my cock while I suck your nipples?”
It’s hardly a question, when we both know the answer. He’s definitely created a monster, and I’m going to make the most of what’s left of our time together. Getting on the plane home in a few short days, I fear, is going to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.
Chapter 19
Rome
Last night was incredible, even with me pouring out my life story. In fact, I struggle to remember a night I’ve enjoyed more. As terrible as it sounds, I’ve organized dates like that before—nothing compared, though. Something I’ve done before with countless other women, doesn’t mean squat to me anymore. With Carlene, it’s different. This tells me a lot.
In my line of work, I physically give my body to a woman and a little part of my soul goes right along with it each time I romance a lady. If I can’t give a little part of my soul, then the connection isn’t there. And that’s what being the best escort is about—making a real connection with a woman. What I have with Carlene feels like so much more, though.
It’s who I shared the evening with—she’s special to me.
It’s the time and place I’ve reached in my life.
It’s Carlene.
And I have no idea what to really do about it. I have nothing to offer her while my life is like this. Plus, does she really want something from me other than these two weeks?
These questions and thoughts keep bouncing around in my head as we spend the next day enjoying private tastings and wine tours in Napa Valley.
Carlene is developing quite a taste for the local reds and has selected several she’s having shipped back to Australia.
And doesn’t the simple action of sending stuff home, just bring it all back to me, harder. She’s going back to Australia in a few short days. I’ll probably never see her again.
“Rome, you have to try this. It’s so good.” She raises her glass at me. Her eyes are a little glazed. It’s getting to the end of a long day sampling the best wines Napa has to offer. I’ve diligently been doing my best to keep her hydrated with water between tastings. The reality though, is on days like this, the buzz often catches up to you regardless how carefully you try to avoid being drunk. She isn’t drunk, just a little buzzed, and I wonder if she’s ever been like this before.
Her spirits are buoyant and so alive. The haunted and shut off look she sported when she arrived is gone. In its place is the face of a confident and carefree woman. Carlene now looks as if she’s ready to greet the world with open arms and ready to meet every challenge and sample every delight life has to offer.
I’ve done this for her. We’ve evoked the change together.
Regardless what happens, I know she’ll leave this experience a richer and more awake person. I’ll always have the gift of knowing I helped her become the person she now is.
I sip at the smooth red she offers expectantly.
“It’s excellent.”
“I know,” she gushes. “Do you think I should get some of this?”
“Totally up to you. I think you’ve got six cases so far. If you want it and you think you’ll drink it, then get it.”
I can see her thinking it over.
“Ah, stuff it! I’m going to get a case of it. I’ll never remember the name of it otherwise, and if I don’t drink it, at least it will help fill up my wine rack. The kids will just have to help me drink it.”
The tipsy edge is making her a little more impulsive. It looks good on her. Another case of wine is certainly not going to break her financially. I’ve been amazed at how tight a rein she’s kept on her spending over the time we’ve been together.
She’s never skimped on experiences, food or drink, but unlike many women I host, she rarely buys herself anything. Her children are going to do okay out of her trip, but not so much for herself.
“Good plan.”
A slow smile holds mischief, and a little regret slips across her face. “It would be so much better if I could drink it with you.”
“It’s not outside the realms of possibility, you know. I’m not averse to making international trips to visit ladies.”
Her face falls, and her shoulders stiffen. I could kick myself for my poor choice of words. Why did I mention other women? I know the answer. I’m so used to being in “work mode,” gently suggesting the next encounter. I’m off my game, because I’m emotionally all over the place. Nothing feels normal, and my head and heart are at war.
“I’ll keep it in mind. You never know.”
She takes another sip of the wine and turns her attention back to the sommelier and starts to discuss the next wine.
I can’t focus on what he’s saying. The characteristics he’s explaining might as well have been blah, blah, blah…and I’m normally super good at managing these sort of scenarios. Today, I suck at my job. I just can’t get my head around where I should be.
I want her—as mine, for real.
Do I try to make it happen? Or should I just let things ride for the moment?
Will she believe me?
I watch her take a sip of the new wine, and I know right away, she doesn’t like it. Her body language gives her away.
The shadows are falling outside, and I figure this will be our last vineyard of the afternoon. We have a long drive tomorrow from Napa to Las Vegas, so we probably need an early night. I don’t mind driving at all. Although tomorrow will be our longest straight through drive if we decide not to stop anywhere along the way.
The sommelier seems to have come to the end of his spiel, and I see Oz press a crisp bill into his hand before I can react. That’s my job. Which only highlights more how distracted I am.
She’s picked up the American ways now, it seems.
“Ready to go?” She nods and steps down from her stool at the tasting table.
I take her hand in mine in an attempt to establish some form of connection between us again, and I give her what I hope is a warm smile. I know she could be my future and I have no idea how to manage it.
There are no two ways about it—Carlene has me tied up in knots.
We walk out to the car in silence, and I open her door and helped her in.
“What would you like to do for dinner?” I ask.
She thinks for no more than a couple of seconds. “You know what I’d really like to do?” There’s a glitter in her eyes.
“What?”
“I
’d like a casual night. If I was at home, I’d say let’s go to the pub and have a counter meal.”
I don’t need to be an Aussie to figure that one out.
“Would a sports bar do the job? I know a good one just up from the hotel. They do great steaks, burgers, and ribs. How does that sound.”
“Perfect. As long as I can have a cold beer. I’m about done with wine for the day, I think.”
I glance across at her, a little surprised. I didn’t think she would want a beer, but if the lady wants a beer, then a beer she will get.
“There’s not a sports bar I know in the whole of the United States that doesn’t have at least a few beers on tap and a pretty decent selection of bottled, as well. I think you’re safe in getting your beer, Oz.”
“Excellent. Let’s go, then.”
“Done.”
A relaxing, easy night sounds divine.
Carlene
The sports bar is great and much more my usual pace than some of the fancy restaurants we’ve been dining in. I’m a country girl at heart, and quite honestly, I’m not fussy when it comes to food.
As long as there is enough of it and it’s reasonably tasty, I’m happy.
I pick up the last rib on my plate and pull the succulent meat from it before licking my fingers in appreciation.
Rome sends me a pleased look. I’m relieved to see, he’s more relaxed than he was earlier this afternoon. Something has been off with him today, and I wonder if what’s plaguing him is the calls he’s received of late.
At least I understand now, and I’m not worried he has a sick relative or something at home. He has needed to take calls because he’s running his business. Business pressure, I can easily understand and accept. I’m not the sort of person to need a person’s undivided attention twenty-four seven. I’m fine with him taking those calls if it helps alleviate him worrying unnecessarily about something work related.
“So, so good. I could eat these ribs again tomorrow night.”
“I have no doubt about it. You really enjoyed those ribs. In fact, I think it’s the meal you’ve enjoyed the most our whole trip.”
When With Rome (Perfect Gentlemen Book 1) Page 23
