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Oh shit, I need to get my act together. I ask for the first thing I see on the menu and add a bottle of wine to boot. But then I hesitate. My date probably isn’t even twenty-one, and I suppose I could technically “supervise” her alcohol intake, but that seems cheesy. Fuck, the law is so twisted. How can she be old enough to have sex legally, but not drink? I have no idea how these things work.
I’ll give her half a glass and tell her to sip it slowly. God, I sound like I’m giving some juice to a toddler, but it is what it is. The wine arrives and I pour Prim half a glass. She smiles and sips while winking at me, and I decide to let the issue slide. Some things are better left in silence, and besides, I’m enjoying myself. But then, the maître d’ comes over and bows slightly before smiling at us.
“Hello, Miss Talbot. It’s nice to see you again,” the middle-aged man greets. Prim starts slightly, her cheeks flushing a bit.
“Oh hi, how are you? How are things going?” she stammers.
The maître d’ bows again.
“I’m happy to report that the restaurant is doing well, Miss Talbot. It’s been smooth sailing since the last time you were here.”
She bites her lip and nods, but then manages to crack a smile.
“That’s great to hear! Oh by the way, Barry, please meet the manager of this restaurant, Mr. Sutherland. He’s a great guy.”
I offer my hand and he takes it. Then the maître d’ bows again and begins to back away from the table.
“If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. In the meantime, I’ll let you get back to your dinner.”
He seems sincere and genuine. Meanwhile, I’m surprised because I never would have guessed my date to be someone who hobnobs. Does she come to Lalita often?
“We could’ve gone elsewhere if you’ve were just here, sweetheart.”
Prim looks up and there’s embarrassment on her face. “Yes, I was here recently, and it was an interesting experience.” But before I can ask what happened, our food arrives, and the vittles look heavenly. Her lamb chops are bedecked with rosemary while the aroma of my steak frites hits just the spot. Plus, I love seeing a woman eat more than a few bites of salad because I hate when they do that. It makes me feel like I’m dating a rabbit, or even worse, someone with an eating disorder. But in the middle of dessert, Prim cocks her head at me with a curious look.
“I know we don’t know each other very well yet, Mr. Childers, but would you mind if I asked you a question?”
I grin and wipe my mouth.
“Uh oh. That’s never a great start.”
The pretty girl laughs, the sound flowing over my soul.
“You’re right, it isn’t, but I’m going to ask anyways. Why do you use escorts, Barry? You’re rich, gorgeous, and great in bed. So don’t you have a line of woman at your door ready to punch your ticket?”
I grin at Prim. “Good in bed, hmm? Tell me, do you like punching my ticket sweetheart?”
She titters again, her cheeks flushing.
“You know what I mean. And I said great in bed, not just good, so answer the question.”
I have to think a moment about how to answer. “It’s complicated. The women interested in me aren’t really interested in me, you have to understand. They are interested in the idea of me.”
Prim looks puzzled.
“How so?”
I shrug.
“I’m a rich man who sold his company for an unbelievable sum, I’ve got a penthouse, fancy sports car, and all the accoutrements of a luxurious lifestyle. If you’ve ever read a gossip magazine, then you’ll know that the paparazzi love me. If they see me with a woman more than even once, the speculation begins about when we’ll tie the knot. Even worse, my date starts wondering about that too, and it’s a pain to deal with. Don’t get me wrong. There have been some nice women in there, but the emotional aspect of a relationship is too much to handle.”
She nods. “Of course,” she murmurs.
I shrug.
“With escorts, it’s a nice clean transaction, and no one wonders when I might propose. I can actually take her out a few times without getting into “expectations,” not to mention wedding bells. Besides, we had fun last week, don’t you think?”
Prim smiles softly.
“That we certainly did. What gave me away, Mr. Childers? My screams while I orgasmed? My yelling ‘harder, harder?’ Or my request for more?”
Her cheeks are flushed and my grin begins to hurt my cheeks. She’s so uninhibited in the bedroom that it’s utterly delightful, and even better, I have a feeling that there’s nothing she won’t try. But then I go serious.
“You asked me why I use escorts, sweetheart, and I gave you my honest answer. Now, I’d like to ask you the same question. Why are you an escort? You’re gorgeous and sweet, not to mention charming and intelligent. So what gives, honey?
