Then again, perhaps if I were in Dan’s shoes, I’d be angry and abrupt too. I ought to be more understanding, so, making an effort, I relaxed back into my chair and laid my hands on my lap. “Yes, I would. If you asked me politely.”
Dan swallowed. He was staring right at me and the hoodie had fallen back a little. I thought I could see the beginnings of his ruined features. I didn’t flinch.
“Go on then,” he said, his voice no more than a whisper. “Take off your shirt, please.”
I stood up. Firstly, I unbuttoned my cuffs, and then started on the buttons at the front. When I’d completely undone them, I shrugged the shirt off and let it fall onto the chair or floor behind me without checking which. I just let Dan look at me.
He sucked in a breath. “You’re very beautiful. I hadn’t realised.”
“Thank you.”
He pushed himself up from the sofa and came nearer. I took a few steps to one side where we had more space, and he slowly walked a full circle around me. I could feel his eyes on my skin, almost devouring me. I swallowed back a protest at being treated like a hooker again. Nothing about this encounter made me feel in control, but perhaps that was the way Dan needed it. “You can touch, if you want to.”
“Sure, thanks.” His fingers were surprisingly cold. I thought he might start with my nipples or chest, but he didn’t. Instead he ran his hand across my back and up to my right shoulder. “What’s this?”
I smiled. Clients always commented on my small tattoo. “It’s a Star of David. My mother was Jewish.”
“Oh, I see.” Then, “Is your name really Adrian?”
Once again, he’d made a leap of thought I hadn’t anticipated. “No, it’s not. But only Max knows my real name. It’s not something I share with anyone else.”
He let that pass without comment and, as he continued his exploration of my back and then my chest, I wondered how much both of us were hiding, in different ways.
When he came to my nipples, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply as they hardened.
“You like that?” he said, his hand pausing.
I nodded, opening my eyes again. This close, his head was turned to one side, still protected by that hoodie. “Yes. Very much. Is there anything I can do for you, Dan? Anything you’d enjoy?”
He stopped stroking me and stepped away. Behind me, where I couldn’t see.
“Take off the rest of your clothes,” he whispered. “Please?”
Gritting my teeth, I hesitated for a moment or two, but then nodded. I took it slow. This was not at all like my usual encounters, where stripping took place much later on. I wasn’t wearing shoes or socks so there were only my trousers and briefs to deal with, but I made every movement count.
Behind me, his breath jittered as I slipped off my pants, and I thought he might touch me. He didn’t, but his next words warmed the back of my neck.
“Do you want me to draw the curtains?”
I shook my head. “There’s no need. Nobody can see. It’s very private here.”
“I suppose it has to be.”
I didn’t respond to that.
“Turn round,” he said, and I obeyed him. He drew in a breath. “You wax yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Does it hurt?”
I smiled. “Only sometimes and only at first. I’m used to it.”
His lips were pursed, as if he planned to say something else but wasn’t sure how. His nearness heated my skin and he felt somehow far too close, so I gestured at the sofa, asked stupidly, “Do you want to sit down?”
“You’re naked,” he said, and then, in a rush, “You’re very beautiful. I envy you, the way you look. I wish . . .”
He swallowed, and before I could think again, I reached out and took his hand. His fingers felt cold in mine, colder than they’d been when he was stroking my skin. I led him to the sofa and pushed him down gently. He disentangled himself from my clasp and shuffled to the edge, where he’d been before. Feeling the loss more than I imagined I would, I sat down next to him, my body turned slightly towards his. If he was minded to touch me again, I was determined to make it easy, for us both. More determined than I ought to have been. God knew why—perhaps because that relaxed sensation which had somehow settled between us at the start had arisen again. I wasn’t sure, but even now, the irritation of the scene he’d just made me play was already fading. I didn’t feel entirely in control, of him or my own reactions, and that knowledge made something in me pulse with a deeper heat. It had been a long time since I’d found any client this exciting, or perhaps I never had. Dan could say or do whatever he wished, and I wasn’t convinced I could mastermind his decisions at all. Almost like money wasn’t an issue between us, if I could remember that far back.
We said nothing for a while. It should have felt strange, me naked and my client fully clothed, but it didn’t, not at all. I sat there, enjoying the afternoon warmth and the muted sounds of the outside world. A blackbird hopped across the patio, carrying something I couldn’t quite see in its beak. An insect, perhaps.
“What do your neighbours think?” Dan said after a while.
“Does it matter?”
He shrugged, a gesture that somehow made him fold in on himself even more. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“All right,” I said slowly. “My neighbours think I’m a rich man with a full social life and a few close friends. If they think of me at all. People don’t notice as much as you imagine they do. Or if they do, they interpret it in the way that suits them.”
“That’s crap,” Dan said, folding his arms tightly across his chest. “Total crap. People will look at me and always think the worst. Always, do you hear? It’s all right for you. You look fucking good whatever you’re wearing or not wearing. Your skin is so fucking perfect. You don’t know how lucky you are.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but his anger swept over me and left me winded as he began to shout, “But it’s not like that for everyone, is it? No, it’s bloody not! When people look at me, all they see is my face and how it is now. It changes everything, you know, it changes fucking everything, and nothing I say or do makes any bloody difference at all. They don’t see me, they just see how I look. Every fucking time.”
Dan stopped speaking, his breath coming hard and fast and his whole body shaking. It was the most I’d heard him say in one go since he’d arrived, and I wondered how long he’d been waiting to say it. Perhaps for a while, and I probably wasn’t the person he wanted to say it to, but I was here now, and he needed a response. I swallowed, took a deep breath, and laid my hand on his shoulder. He was still trembling, but he wasn’t the only one.
“I’m sorry about your accident,” I said.
He jumped as if I’d hit him, or maybe he’d forgotten I was there at all. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
I tightened my grip, but not enough to hurt him. “All right. You can talk about whatever you’d like to, Dan. I just wanted you to know I was sorry.”
“Not as sorry as I am. Stand up.”
I let him go and glared at him. “I don’t respond to bullying. If you want to ask me to do something, then you need to be polite. You know that.”
“Okay, then please stand up, would you?”
My lips tightened and I raised my eyebrows. Saying nothing in response, I did what he asked but took my time. I’d be damned if he thought he was the one in control here, whatever commands he gave out.
Only when I was standing did he speak again. “I want you to fuck me,” he said. “With that oh-so-perfect body of yours.”
This time, he’d pushed too far. Turning away, I shook my head and reached for my trousers and pants, pulling them on. “I’m sorry, but I won’t do that. However much you’d like to make me into a whore, I’m not one. I’m going to put my clothes back on now, and then we’re going to talk, if you want to. Or you can leave if you prefer. If we do, at any time, decide to have sex together, then it won’t be fucking. Neither, of course, will it be m
aking love, but something in between. An encounter that will bring enjoyment to us both, if you like.”
He snorted. “Some escort you are.”
Without buttoning up my trousers, I dropped down next to him and turned his head to face mine. I made sure he had the protection of the hoodie, so I didn’t expose the scars he was keeping hidden.
“Yes,” I said quietly but firmly. “I am some escort. A very good one. If you’d like to find out more about who I am and how I can help you, then I suggest you leave your attitude at the door. If you think you can do that, then I’m happy to make time in my schedule for you next Sunday afternoon, Max’s approval permitting. If you can’t, then I’m afraid I’m not the man you need, and you should find someone else to take your anger out on. Understood?”
He stared at me for a moment, his lips pursed tight, then nodded before shaking me off.
“I’ll see,” he said.
Max came to visit on Monday afternoon, and I was ready for him. I opened the door and called a greeting while he was still walking up the path.
“Max.”
“Adrian.” He nodded and searched my face. “Dan seemed thoughtful when he came back yesterday, though he wouldn’t tell me anything. What happened?”
I told him as much as I could without breaking any confidences. While I talked, I poured him a cup of the herbal tea he usually enjoyed. Camomile and spearmint. He always said it cleared his mind. Coffee did the same for me.
“So,” I said as I came to the end of my account, “I don’t know if I did the right thing by asking Dan to leave, and I’m sorry if I was too harsh. But your business matters to me as well as your family. You run an escort agency, not a whorehouse.”
Max laughed. “You’ve always been loyal, I can say that for you.”
“No more than you deserve,” I said quietly, and he stopped laughing and held my gaze. “You know that.”
He nodded, and we sat in silence for a few moments. He finally took a sip of the tea he’d been holding as I’d spoken, and smiled his approval.
“So, do you think Dan will come back?” he said. “That attitude of his, it’s not always been there, you know. Just since . . .”
“Since the accident.”
“Yes.”
I thought for a while before speaking. Took a gulp of coffee to help me focus and stared at my plush cream carpet. Its softness warmed my feet.
“Things happen to everyone,” I said. “I can understand that. And sometimes we need other people to help us find ourselves again. You helped me once, Max, and I won’t forget it. I’m happy to try to help Dan, for your sake as well as for his. But he needs to be willing to meet me halfway.”
Max put down his tea, took hold of my hand, and kissed my palm. The feel of his lips made me smile.
“Yes,” he said. “You’re a very generous man, in all you do. Thank you.”
I worked hard that week so I could spend more time with Dan on Sunday, if he came. I had a new client on Wednesday who was nervous and needed extra attention to open up, but by the time we left the restaurant he was much more relaxed. Still, I could tell sex had been off his agenda for quite some time, so once at home I allowed him free rein and he made the most of it.
His favourite activity was frottage, much to my surprise, as I’d not entertained one of those for a while. His cries when he came were his loudest of the evening. I held him afterwards while he floated down from his ecstasy. The name he mumbled against my ear wasn’t mine, but the loneliness of the sound only made me hold him tighter. We all need comfort when we can’t get what we want.
We enjoyed each other all night long. My waste bin was full of condoms and my arse aching by the time he left at daybreak, kissing me deeply and promising another evening when he was next in town.
That was fine by me, as regular clients were an escort’s bread and butter and everything else besides, and I told him I’d look forward to it. I would too, but I needed to rest before my last appointments of the week, and of course before Dan.
Dan was late again. Perhaps that was a habit with him. On my doorstep, he was wearing different jeans but the same bright red hoodie. It made me smile that he wanted to hide and draw attention to himself at the same time. I wondered if he even realised the paradox he’d created.
This time, I didn’t ask him in, but grabbed my jacket, stepped out, and closed the door behind me.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s go to the park.”
He pulled at my arm. “No, I don’t want to. What’s wrong with staying at yours?”
“What’s wrong with going out?” I countered. “It’s a beautiful day and the fresh air will do us both good.”
Still, he hung back, stooping so his face was even more hidden than it had been before. I quirked one eyebrow at him, but I didn’t know if he saw it.
“Are you ashamed of being seen with me?” I asked. “Because, trust me, nobody knows what I do, so you’ve no need to worry.”
“I’m not ashamed,” he said. “Max is a good man.”
I wasn’t sure the two statements necessarily fitted together, but I let it pass. “Good. In that case, if you’re not worried about being seen with an escort, and I’m not worried about being seen with a young man who won’t show his face, then there’s no problem, is there?”
With that, I turned and began to stride along the path in the direction of the park. A couple of moments of silence went by, and then I heard footsteps clattering along behind me. I smiled.
We made the journey in that fashion: me leading Dan along the wide streets of my suburb. Few people were about and I imagined most of my neighbours were either enjoying their gardens or at the park. The one or two we did encounter smiled and nodded as they passed by. There was a sense of peace about the day that seemed to dissuade people from conversation. I felt it too.
The park was five minutes’ walk away. Once there, I weaved through the herb and rose gardens and reached the bower, which gave shade and privacy. It was far enough away from the children’s playground to be relatively quiet, though you could hear their laughter if the wind blew in the right direction. Above all these delights, it included a bench.
“Sit down,” I said.
When we were both settled and knew we wouldn’t be overheard, I began to talk, to try to bring Dan out of himself. I made no reference to the choice I’d given him about seeing me only if he left his attitude behind. He was here, so it was enough.
“If you were given the chance to redesign the park,” I asked, “how would you do it?”
He drew in a sharp breath and sat up taller. “You know a lot already, don’t you? Though I suppose I should have expected it. But my past has nothing to do with you, or me either. It isn’t relevant anymore.”
Slowly, I moved my hand so it rested lightly atop his on the bench. He flinched but didn’t shake me off.
“I’m not worried about the past,” I said softly. “I was asking what you thought, that’s all.”
He sighed and gazed round as much as he could without giving too much of his face away. He looked as if he were taking in the shapes and spaces of the park for the first time, though he must have been here on countless occasions. I wondered what he thought of the wide stretches of grass, the statues of local dignitaries dead and alive, and the oh-so-municipal flowerbeds.
His answer, when it came, began with echoing my thoughts.
“I’d rip out the flowers,” he said, almost as if talking to himself, but becoming more intense as he continued. “Put something far more exciting in, maybe change their shape and position completely. I’d take the statues and place them where they’d be something to discover and find out about, not just some artwork that’s there because that’s what you do in parks. Then I’d take the herb gardens, the roses as well, from the front where they’re wasted, and put them where we are, at the centre, so people could discover them when they get here. Not only that, but in the summer, if they were here and not by the gate, then you’d get the scent
while you were sitting or walking around and it would make the whole thing so much better.”
I hadn’t heard Dan sound impassioned about anything but his own problems. I thought I could grow to like it.
“So it’s the outdoors which does it for you more than interior design, then?”
Dan shrugged and tugged his hoodie back over his fringe, which had begun to peep out while he’d been speaking. “Not really. I like—liked—them both. Now it doesn’t seem to matter.”
“Why not?”
He eased his hand out from under mine. “Because, like I said, it’s the past. It’s not now.”
I nodded, trying to appear wise when at heart I didn’t understand what he meant. How could I? His experiences were a long way from mine. “So you’re saying your accident and the way your face is dictate to you how you want to live your life. And everything you valued once can disappear that quickly. But surely what you look like doesn’t affect your ability to want to make things beautiful. It’s art, not appearance, and art matters, doesn’t it?”
From the corner of my eye, I watched Dan purse his lips, as if there was much he wanted to say but he didn’t know if he could say it and stay. Instead, he risked a sideways glance at me, a frown crinkling the part of his forehead I could see.
“Some things change everything,” he said. “Or doesn’t a bloke like you know that anyway?”
“A bloke like me?”
“Yes. An escort.”
Dan’s tone was more than slightly ironic, but I let it go this time. “Yes,” I said. “I do know it. The thing that changed everything for me was the realisation I could use my social skills to live the kind of life I’d dreamed of. Art galleries, museums, top-quality restaurants, not to mention good conversations and—yes—good sex. All of which I enjoy and all of which I can have whilst doing what I really love most.”
“Which is?”
I turned to Dan and smiled. “Studying. I enjoy learning about things, finding out what makes people and events tick, and how everything affects everything else.”
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