Artful Attractions (17 page)

Brad pulls out his mother’s chair and pushes it back in and I take a seat, scooting myself in. The table seats ten and the opposite side is already set up for tonight’s poker game.

The dish in front of me is steak, red potatoes, carrots and mushrooms. It smells fabulous and looks almost identical to the meal we ate the first night we met. I wonder if this is on purpose or just a coincidence.  I take a bite and this meal is even better than the first time we dined together, times a hundred. He shouldn’t own restaurants; he should cook for them. The steak is succulent and perfectly medium rare. But as I peer over at Amy’s hers is cooked more. He must know she doesn’t like bloody steak. I love it. I don’t dare speak at the table, I just want to savor this beautiful plate of food. I feel like I need to worship it or something. It’s that perfect.

I clean my plate. Brad and Amy are finished before I am and mama finishes just seconds after me. Amy stands and removes the plates from in front of us, taking them into the kitchen. 

“That was amazing,” I compliment, breaking the pregnant silence.

“Thanks,” Brad smiles genuinely, blushing a little.

“I’ll be back in a bit. I’m going to sit outside and suck up some pollutant free air.” I stand and make my way out the back door and into the courtyard to sit on the bench. It’s late and the stars are out in full force tonight. The sky is dark and perfectly clear with a crescent moon smiling down upon me.

“Care if I join you?” Brad asks in a whisper, a blanket draped over his arm.

“Sure.” I scoot over to make room for his big body. This bench isn’t very long and I know as soon as he sits down he will be touching me somehow. The thought makes my stomach do a little flip with nervousness. I feel like a little girl going on her first date. How lame am I?

“Here.” He wraps the blanket around my chilly shoulders.

“Thanks.” I pat the seat next to me. His knees crack as he lowers himself onto the bench beside me. Our legs are touching and so are our arms. It’s impossible not to touch on this short of a bench with his large size.

He scoots as far over as he can. “Sorry, I’ll move.” He goes to stand and I grab his knee.

“Please stay and share this with me.” I tug the blanket off my shoulders, draping it across our laps. He exhales loudly and settles back down onto the bench. “See not so bad. I don’t have cooties,” I chuckle.

“You said I could ask you some questions about your job. Is now okay?” he inquires hesitantly. I know this has to be uncomfortable for him. I’m not exactly enthusiastic about discussing my work either.

“Sure, ask away. Just don’t call names,” I say happily. Even though I can feel the flood of dread sweeping through my body. Turning my stomach into a big ball of throbbing anxiety.

“Why do you do it? And how did you become an Escort?”

“I do it because it pays well, like most people who want a job they want the ones that pay the most money. I was working as a cocktail waitress when Brian, my boss, recruited me. I started slow, tried it a few times. The money was steady and helped me pay for college. I could barely afford Ramen noodles on my wages. So this gave me opportunity to pay off my school loans, buy decent food and clothes. It made sense and I’ve just accumulated more clients and money over time,” I explain as delicately and cleanly as possible. I don’t want this to seem gross to him. It’s a job.

“So what do you…” He stops and sighs, gripping the arm of the bench.  “What does the job entail?” he finishes with a gush of air.

“I date men that I’m paid to date after they sign a contract with my boss and are read the rules. I find out what they want me for. Then I provide a service. Typically it starts as a high profile date to a business dinner, a gala, family reunion. Things of that sort. Afterward, I add the extras to their specifications within my limits. I control the flow and there is always protection involved,” I clarify in the best business terms I can formulate with a smooth even tone.

“Basically men pay money to take you out first then afterward like a normal date would progress, you sleep with them. But instead of like a normal women you do it for money?”

“It doesn’t always involve sex. But typically yes. I have regulars. Two actually. You’ve already met Joseph.”

He slumps down into the bench more to get comfortable and kicks his leg up over his knee and I notice he’s in moccasins too. Except his are brown and all leather with no tread. Cute.

“How much did you get paid to date me the first night? Since we didn’t have sex,” he blurts quickly. Like it was hard to speak out loud.

“Fifteen hundred.”

He chokes and then clears his throat rubbing his hand to it. “That’s a lot. Is that normal?”

“Joseph paid me nine thousand for Friday and another ten for attire to dress for the night. We didn’t even spend the night together and he won’t accept refunds.”

“That’s a car!”

“I know,” I chuckle, amused by his cute outburst. “Like I said, it’s where the money is. That’s why I do it. If I could make this much money running a charity or doing art or working at a museum, I would. But it’s not possible unless I strike it hot. Which isn’t likely,” I express.

Which is true. I love my job because of the money and the fun of it. But if I could make the same amount doing something legal and normal, I would. I’d miss the thrill sure, but it beats worrying about the creeps that surface.

“Would you stop it if you met the right person?” he asks blankly, like he’s trying to make conversation.

I shrug, tucking my chilly hands between my legs under the blanket, for warmth. “Maybe. That’s a big hypothetical. I couldn’t have met him as a client. Joseph would leave his wife for me, I’m sure, if I asked. But I could never trust a man who paid to sleep with me. They’d go off and probably hire one of my coworkers and do the same behind my back. So that eliminates most men I encounter.” Except you, I refrain from adding. 

“I understand. I’ve been single for the past ten years. It’s not easy to date,” he says. In a way, I get this feeling he’s kind of pushing me into inquiring about his past. I don’t know if I should or not. I do want to know about it. But I don’t want to pry. Oh, what the hell.

“So tell me about you.”

“What about me?”

“Everything you want to tell me. I gave up my goods. You give up yours,” I tease and poke him in the side. Oh wow. He’s hard under that thin layer of fat. He yawns and stretches and when his arm comes back down it finds its way across the back of the bench. I scoot a smidge closer to him so my entire thigh is pressed against the outside of his. This is becoming more intimate and my heart has taken notice. She’s banging vigorously in my chest.

“I’ve never been married, I have no kids and my longest relationship I dated the girl for eight years and she tore my heart out and I’ve not dated much since,” he states a matter-of-factly.

“What happened?” I push delicately with a sweet loving tone.

“The short version is I met her my senior year of high school. We fell in love. I followed her to Kentucky for culinary school which I attended too only because she did. I was whipped. I fell in love with cooking and was a natural at it. We both graduated, moved to Florida and rented an apartment. Both of us worked at nice resorts. I got lucky and landed a job at Disney in one of the bigger resort restaurants. I moved up the ladder and got put in as head chef when ours quit and my hours went from forty a week to sixty. Things started to fade out when she began to pull away and I got us into couples counseling towards the end. Found out through that, that she’d cheated on me five times in our relationship and was seeing one of her co-workers for nearly five months. I ended it and she moved out. Three months later, she came crawling back saying she missed me and was sorry. I was young and dumb and took her back and it was great for a while. I kept thinking she was cheating and in the end I let her go. I couldn’t trust her,” he reveals and I can’t help but feel serenaded by the deep tone of his voice. Even though his story is heart wrenching.

I untuck my hands from between my thighs and place my hand caringly on his knee for moral support. “I’m very sorry, Brad.”

He shakes his head dismissing my empathy. “Don’t be. I’ve had a wonderful life since her. I can’t complain, except the loneliness sucks. I dated another woman four years ago casually for about a year. Never said I loved her but once she started wanting more I had to say goodbye. Amy and my mom think I’ll die alone.”

“You should try online dating. It might help. Plus it will get Amy and mama off your back.” I squeeze his knee for reassurance, his free hand finds mine and lays it on top. A spark ignites making my pulse accelerates tenfold. Cue the giddy butterflies.

“No, I don’t want to do that. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. You get used to being alone after ten years. How about you and your love life? You know, besides the men that pay to date you?” he chuckles. Wow this is the first time he found my job funny. Good, we are moving in the right direction.

“There is none. I’ve been working for Brian for four years and I’ve not dated anyone at all since then. Before that I dated a few men here or there. Nothing serious. A had a high school boyfriend for about a year but that was stupid kid stuff. I can honestly say I might not be a virgin sexually, but I’m a virgin to love.”

He squeezes my hand and his arm finds its way to my shoulder. My heart leaps into my throat and I swallow hard to make the foreign feeling go away. I inhale a deep breath and hold it, trying to break my sudden trance. I can’t think of anything other than his hands on me. The little sparks of recognition are intense and my clit jumps, excited.

“You two going to come in here and get your asses kicked or not?” Mama calls from the backdoor.

“We’ll be in shortly, mama,” Brad hollers back.

“Okay, well don’t let me interrupt nothin. I want some damn grandbabies and if you two are up for the challenge I’d like to have one nine months from today.”

I burst out laughing and I feel my face flush fifty shades of red. Thankfully we are in the dark. “Give us two minutes mama, we’ll be in,” I say through a string of laughter.

“Make it five. I’m sure Brad can perform under pressure. Remember nine months from today. I’m starting the clock.” She laughs a naughty laugh and shuts the backdoor.

I shake my head. “That mother of yours,” I tease and poke him in the side again.

“She’s your mother, I don’t know whose mom you’re talking about. She’s not mine,” he chuckles. I can’t see his smile but I’m sure there is one.

“I wish. My mom is crazy and not half as sweet as Ruby.”

“Try growing up with her, trust me she didn’t seem so sweet then. She ruled the roost and let’s just say my friends hated coming over because if they so much as said something wrong she’s smack them a good one.”

I snicker happily and tuck my head against his chest. He sucks in a hard breath and stiffens. I inhale deep and salivate over his scent. My clit hums and my panties moisten. I reach across my body and lean into him and rub my hand on his chest and down his abs. He’s as still and quiet as a monk. The warmth of him heats my chilly hand and the thickness of his body is even more beautiful than I expected. I brush my fingers over thick ridges of abs muscle and tight pecks. I’ve been wanting to do this since we met. Now I have the chance and guts. I tilt my head in and kiss his peck. “Thank you for bringing me. I know this makes your mom very happy and thank you for such an amazing dinner. It was delicious. You’re a fantastic chef,” I whisper appreciatively, stand and make my way back into the house. Leaving him alone to soak up the peace of the serene night sky.

Last night after Brad made his way back into the house we played poker until the wee hours of the morning. The pot starts with ten dollars each unless you lose and want to cash in for more chips. Ruby won the most last night. I left the game ten dollars lighter and too many beers fuller at four this morning. Brad is a rather feisty poker player like his mom. Amy and I held back and left them to colorfully trash talk. It’s even more entertaining with Brad around to be caddy with mama. It’s a rather adorable mother son dynamic.

After last night I’ve decided I’m going push my stay until Tuesday morning. I have to be back for the gangbang by eight, but that means I have to be out of here by three to get back in time to doll myself up and coordinate wardrobes with Becka. I guess I’ll either catch a ride with Brad if he extends his unplanned vacation too. Although he brought nothing but his suit and the extra pair of clothes I presume he had in the back of the BMW. Or I’ll rent a vehicle and drive back. Either way, I’m staying until Tuesday. If I could live here all week I would but that would mean leaving John, Joseph and Becka high and dry and that’s not fair.

I stretch naked in bed and toss back the covers. The clock says it’s ten. I should have slept longer. I am on vacation after all. But the smell of pancake batter and bacon wafting through the house is the best wakeup call on the planet.

A knock. “You up Alexis?” Amy calls from the other side of the door.

“Yeah, you can come in if you want I’m just waking up,” I answer, swiping the sleep from the corners of my eyes. 

My door creaks open and I sit up in bed naked, my beasts completely exposed. Amy gasps and adverts her eyes. “Sorry I didn’t know.”

I giggle, shaking my head. “It’s okay Amy, we’re both girls. I sleep in the buff. It’s no hidden secret.” I slide out of bed and tiptoe across the room to the closet. The old floor creaking under my weight.

“I came in to say we are having breakfast in ten and I have some towels if you need fresh ones,” she offers staring at the ceiling, rocking nervously back on her heels. Sister like brother.

I’m half tempted to make her look at me. It’s the escort in me talking. There’s zero reason to be uncomfortable around nudity. I’m not naive to the fact that there is a large majority of Americans who are not only uncomfortable with nudity but are downright afraid of it.

“Hey,” Brad greets cornering into the open door of my bedroom to be greeted by an uncomfortable sister and my naked body. He stops dead in this tracks and his eyes deliberately admire the white plastered ceiling too. “Sorry, I didn’t know,” he apologizes, clearing his throat and I spout a chuckle.

“You two are crazy. I’m naked, not a divine being. Take a chill pill, will ya? What’s up Brad? How can I help you?” I pull my body wash and shampoo out of my bag and a change of clothes for the day.

“Mama has me running a few errands for her today. I guess there’s something important at an antique shop in town she needs me to pick up. I thought you might want to tag along if you’re free,” he offers courteously.

“Did she make you ask me or did you do it on your own accord?”

He jams his hands into his jean pockets the same ones from last night and rocks back on his moccasin covered heels. Yep, I figured she ordered as much. That’s mama for ya.

“Right… So, nope you can go.” I dismiss his question and go into the bathroom and shut the door my arms full of today’s clothes and my bath products.

A knock comes.

“Alexis please come with me. Mama will be mad if you say no and I won’t hear the end of it,” he begs.

I grunt loudly. “Fine, but that means you get to dig into my suit case and pull out their gifts and hand them over to them. I’d rather you bear the brunt of the argument that I spent too much. Than me. That’s my compromise,” I order through the door turning on the bathwater to fill the claw foot tub.

“Okay, but I don’t know who’s is what.”

I pull open the door and leave the tub to fill. I’m still nude but I don’t care. He backs away as I exit and I pull the three gifts for Amy and two for mama from the suitcase in the Sak’s bags.

“Here.” I push them to his chest. “The bag with the poker set and truffles is mamas and the other is Amy’s.”

He peers into Amy’s bag pulling out the blanket. Rubbing its fine silky texture through his fingers. “You spent hundreds on this, didn’t you?” He’s cross.

“Yes, I did. It’s worth it. She’ll love it and that’s all that matters.” I leave and go back into the bathroom, ignoring his displeasing tone and furrowed brows.

I take a long leisurely bath in the perfect tub. I love claw foot tubs. There is something old school about them at the same time they give off that spa like luxury. I get out and dry off with the pink towel hanging on the heated towel rack. This is the only bath in the entire place with a warming rack. Amy had it installed a year after I started coming here. It was a small gift to me, I suppose. 

I blow dry my hair, standing in front of the big bathroom mirror in my white bra and thong set. I finish up and tug on my basic white fitted t-shirt, orange featherweight cashmere cardigan, worn washed jeans with cuffed bottoms, a dark floral printed snood and a pair of citrine teardrop earrings. It’s casual but a little fancier than normal. I was going to go with just the cardigan, jeans and tee. But I figured if I’m going out into town I might as well dress up a bit. I finish my makeup in the bedroom mirror sitting on the pink tufted stool and go for something more natural with accents of pinks. I slide on a fuzzy pair of orange socks and my brown leather three inch chunky heel ankle boots. They have this rustic country feel to them. I don’t feel quite right wearing them in the city.

I meet my three favorite people downstairs and they are all engrossed in some sort of conversation when I sit down at the dinner table that’s sat with a giant serving tray filled with pancakes, bacon, sausage links and a bowl fresh orange slices on the side.

“This smells delicious,” I compliment, dishing out myself some food. I don’t normally eat this much. Once a day maybe, twice at most. I’m not the three meals kind of gal and I certainly don’t want to gain any weight. I’m happy being a size six and would love to keep it that way. My butt couldn’t take another ten pounds. When I do gain weight it goes straight to my hips and ass with the occasional migration upward into my breasts. Although to my amazement I’ve stayed this size for the past eight years or so.

“Alexis, I could just smack you,” Mama says, feeding a truffle into her mouth. I knew she’d love them. Brownie points for me.

“I knew you’d like them, Mama,” I smile warmly and slather homemade maple syrup all over my steaming pancakes.

“The gifts were beautiful, thank you,” Amy says although I can read between the lines of her tone. She’s happy with them but she feels I spent too much. That is why I let Brad bear the brunt of the exchange. Every time I come, I bring a gift and in turn I always get scolded. It’s not that my strange adopted family doesn’t appreciate my gifts. I know they do. But I’ve been very lavish with some of the items I purchase for them. I know they’ll spend the money on certain things but the ones I choose to purchase are the ones I know they refuse to splurge on themselves. That’s what you do when you love somebody. And they mean the world to me.

They break back into the conversation they were having about Brad’s businesses adventure. And I dig into my meal.

“Andrew wants to open in the next three months. I keep telling him it will take at least six to get it all settled,” Brad says to his family, sipping on coffee.

“Then cut him out of the deal and do it on your own,” his sister suggests. As I feed forkfuls of pancake into my mouth. It’s like heaven on a plate and the thick crispy bacon is the pearly gates.

“Sorry, I haven’t quite heard about what type of restaurant chain you’re going for and why you need Andrew? You don’t seem like the same type of men,” I emphasize, cutting into the conversation. I swallow down a big bite and take a sip of my ice water.

Brad turns to me with a quizzical brow. “How so?”

“He parties and likes women a lot. You don’t. He wants to press forward when you say you should take your time. It seems like a bunch of unwarranted hassle,” I answer forwardly without apology. Dabbing my mouth with my napkin.

“Yes, but he’s the financial backing I need. I can’t afford this all on my own. Not to go as big as I want in such a short amount of time. One or two chain restaurants maybe. But to hit eight to ten in less than a year. I can’t pull that much resource from my other restaurants without border lining on insanity. I’ve already paid my loans with my other chains off. I refuse to rack up another ten million in debt or more to get this underway.” The deepness of his voice in business mode speaks wonders to my soul.

“Then maybe you should do the two restaurants and gather enough income then push to add more in the next three years instead of one. If you’re splitting the profits I would think that’s smarter. Plus you’re not dealing with a flashy man like Andrew to keep under wraps. He owns big name single restaurants that are amazing. But you only do single ones for a few reasons. You don’t like duplicates or you can’t handle the structure of global restaurant management,” I add.

He sits back in his chair thinking, his hand playing with his short trimmed goatee.

“Plus, if you need backer money without the intrusion of a bank I can surly help to some degree. If my calculations are correct I’m sitting on about three hundred thousand in savings you’re welcome to borrow. All I want is a menu item named after me,” I chuckle, but I’m serious.

“It’s going to be a gourmet pizzeria chain. There are tons of Domino’s and Pizza Huts. But no place specializes in gourmet pizza with strange but delicious toppings. And I thank you for wanting to help but you’ve already done plenty.”

“The Monroe pizza. I like the sound of that. Make it with sun dried tomatoes, capers and white cheeses. People will think it’s after Marilyn Monroe. No one would be any the wiser. I’ll give you the money when you bring me home on Tuesday morning,” I slyly add in and see if he catches that I want to extend my vacation a day.

“I can’t take your money Alexis. And Tuesday? I thought we were leaving Monday?” he catches me. Brad’s one smart cookie.

“Yes, you can and you will if you want to do this on your own. I know that’s not a lot of money to help but it will do more good than sitting in a safe in my bedroom. Plus I know mama will kick your butt if you don’t pay me back. It’s a win, win if you don’t want to work with Andrew. Which I get the sense you don’t. Plus I can help during the days if you want free labor. And if you’re going Italian themed with décor I could sketch some less provocative nudes. And yes I’ll let you buy the supplies.”

He looks to his mom and sister and back at me, then back at them.

“Just do it, family helping family is smart, son. If you don’t want to work with that Andrew fellow and are okay with stretching out the chains progression, I’d take it,” Mama reasons with him and I give her a thank-you smile. She winks back at me. Mama has the most radiant blue eyes. Brad’s eyes take after hers. Amy has green blue eyes, not the same but just as captivating.

I don’t know why I want to help Brad out so much but I do. I feel like I need to. He’s like family to me in a sense because of Amy and Ruby. And family is supposed to help family. It doesn’t hurt that I really like him. Okay, it’s moving into the more than like category but when it’s unrequited it doesn’t matter.

“Listen guys, I appreciate the input. I’ll think about it. This isn’t something I can just decide right this second. Plus, we have some errands to run.” He stands and I shoot back the last of my water and follow him to leave.

In the car on the drive into town he strums his fingers on the steering wheel as we rock out to Fall Out Boy. He’s in a daze, paying attention to only the music and driving. The wheels are turning inside his head; I can see it on his face.

We pull up outside a huge white pole barn with a sign out front that says Welcome to Josie’s Antiques.

He gets out and I follow him inside. This place is massive with furniture everywhere. Old cedar chests, bedroom sets, it has a loft above our heads with a large staircase the leads up. Tables upon tables are arranged with antiques, all in pristine condition. I flip some of the colorful price tags around and even the prices are reasonable. More than reasonable compared to city pricing. I pick up a blue wavy art glass serving bowl that would make a perfect centerpiece for a table or Brads Island. He says he likes blue and it’s a steal for only ten dollars. I check for chips or cracks and it’s mint.

“Hey Brad,” I call to him. He’s chatting with the older woman behind the counter.

“Yeah?”

“Do we have room in the car to pick up a few items for your apartment?” I ask, holding up the bowl for him to see.

“That’s beautiful. Yeah we’ve got room. Are you still wanting to leave Tuesday? If you do, I have to rearrange my schedule.”

The woman slides him over a small box. I can’t tell what it is but it must be what his mother sent him to retrieve.

“Yes, I’d like to stay as long as we can. If you have to go back sooner I’ll just get a rental from in town.”

“You’re not doing that. I’ll cancel with Andrew Monday night.” He turns and tucks the small white box into his pocket and walks over to me. “Thanks Josie,” he says over his shoulder.