Artful Attractions (7 page)

After another shower and she washed only her hair, we got dressed in business attire. Which of course I stupidly forgot to pick up new clothing for so I went with a black tight, high-waisted pencil skirt, black Gucci heels and a white tank with a thin red belt. It pops with sex appeal but it’s definitely business like. I don’t feel as sexy as usual. Becka has on a red slinky dress and black heels. It’s not as business as I think she should wear but it’ll make her client want to fuck her at first glance.

We pull up outside of Red and Blue and our driver gets out.

“Ladies, Mr. Blue and Mr. Saunders will be inside waiting for you,” Our chauffeur says, holding our door out for us. This time we have an actual limo. I’m used to town cars. But this is some pricy digs.

Anne, for all intensive purposes, gets out first and I slide out behind her. The place is packed as usual but we are greeted at the big front doors by a maître d’ in a fancy black tux.

“Hello, madams. Welcome to Red and Blue. It would be my pleasure to seat you. Please follow me,” He says pleasantly and opens the door, escorting us back to a private room with only a four person table. Candles are lit on the oversized table for four and two place settings have a bundle of flowers on them. The ambiance is enticing.

Both men seated in the opposite chairs stand and the tall thin blonde with broad shoulders that’s dressed impeccably in tan slacks and a light blue collared shirt approaches us. He bends down and kisses Becka aka Anne on the cheek.

“Hello baby. I’ve missed you,” he says sweetly.

She caresses his cheek peering into his eyes. “I missed you more, sweetie.”

Damn, she’s good.

“I hope it’s alright that I ordered for us. And if you could please introduce your best friend to Brad I’d be most appreciative,” he says, gesturing toward the table where the dark haired man is standing. It’s dimly lit in this room and over the top romantic. Andrew clasps Becka’s hand in his and escorts her to her seat at the table. I stand at the one opposite of hers with the big bouquet of red roses. Something about red roses and men. I can’t complain, they’re my favorite flower. Becka has a bouquet of white lilies. Which are her favorite. I wonder how they knew. Brian, perhaps?

“Brad, this is Tylah, my best friend,” Becka introduces, running her hand over her boyfriend’s arm.

He offers his hand. Which I accept and he shakes it firmly, my hand swallowed up in his. This isn’t what I’m used to. Most men kiss my hand. Oh, that’s right; he doesn’t know I’m an escort. Duh. This is going to make for an interesting evening. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tylah.” He smiles nervously.

“You too, Brad. So I hear you are friends with Andrew,” I state, taking a seat, my fingers caressing the softness of the rose petals in my dozen rose bouquet.

“Yes, sort of. I’m looking to co-own a restaurant chain with him. The first one we want to open will be here in New York and if it progresses as we expect, it’ll be a huge hit. He typically does individual restaurants and I’ve been successful with chains,” he explains evenly. His voice is extra deep and bellows in my ears. I devote all my attention to him, soaking up his intelligent words. This is the first semi-intellectual stimulating conversation I’ve had in weeks. It’s a welcomed change of pace.

“That’s fascinating, Brad. What kind of chains do you own? I know Andrew has this restaurant and a few others in the city.” I ask, truly interested in his mind. I feel normal and less like a piece of meat. This would be a first.

“I have a chain of fifteen Mexican restaurants around the country called Pablo Verde and a smaller Italian chain of six called Vino’s.”

My mouth drops open. No way!

“You mean Vino’s as in the Italian restaurant with homemade bread and dipping oil? You have signature salads of cucumber, romaine lettuce, tomatoes and bacon?”  

He chuckles and the corners around his eyes crinkle slightly. I wonder how old Brad is? He’s very attractive. Thicker than most men I’ve dated. He’s got big bulging arms and thick shoulders, a well-trimmed goatee and ice blue eyes. His hair’s dark brown almost black with no signs of gray and it’s spiked into a faux hawk. Imparting a young hipster vibe with his dark wash designer jeans, and white with a black skull button-down long-sleeved shirt. I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t have more tattoos than the two on his forearms. Not a man you’d see paying for an Escort. He’s sexy enough to get a date on his own but the air about him tells me he doesn’t much care for romantic connections. He couldn’t be any less interested in me. Which honestly doesn’t hurt or bother me one bit. It’s refreshing, if anything.

“Yes, that’s the one. You’ve been?” he sounds surprised and his eyes glow. I can see he’s very passionate about the culinary division of the world.

“I’ve been to it like fifty times. There’s one about an hour out of the city. I sometimes take vacations at this little B&B about five miles from it. I eat there every day when I stay.”

“You stay at Lolita’s?” His brow perks up.

I chuckle lightly, twirling my hair with a big smile. This is awesome talking to someone about my life and things I enjoy other than with Becka. During the holidays every year after I visit my parents, I stay at Lolita’s. If I get a free weekend night, I stay there too. I love that place. It’s amazing, with three guest bedrooms and attached baths. Total seclusion, country atmosphere with big queen sized Victorian style beds. Homemade breakfast every morning and it screams relaxation to me. I found it online about three years ago and I try to make it up there every few months. I’ve only ever visited it by myself. I don’t think I know anyone who’s ever been there, before now.

“Of course Lolita’s. I love that place. I go there every year after Christmas and I try to stay a weekend or so every other month. If I get time. I’m busy with work a lot. But I love that place. It’s so comforting.”

He smiles rubbing his fingers across the edge of the table. “Yeah, I love it too. I’ve not met anyone who’s stayed there. Unless I’m visiting the area myself. It’s off the beaten path. My sister’s the one who bought the place about seven years ago. That’s the only way I’d ever know about it.”

My eyes widen. “Amy’s your sister?” I ask excitedly. I know Amy, she’s my favorite person to see when I visit. We chat and sit on a couch in the living room together sipping hot chocolate by the fire. She knows I’m an escort and my real name. I never disclosed my career choice until I met her about twenty times but she’s rather worldly and hip for being in her late thirties. We text every so often and she always emails me the month’s specials. This is great.

He sips on his Sam Adams in the bottle. Tilting it to his lips by the neck with two fingers. He swallows and licks his lips. “Yep, my older sister. I’ve got a brother too.”

“Don’t tell me you share the same mother? Because that would mean Ruby is your mom.”

We’re so engrossed in our conversation I hadn’t even realized the waiter standing attention to take my drink order.

“Tylah, what would you like?” Andrew asks.

Hum, that’s a good question. This date is uncharted territory for me. I typically drink whatever my date suggests even if I don’t like it. Or I order whatever he’s having. It makes for commonality. Champagne with Joseph is probably the only alcohol I’ve enjoyed regularly with a date. Most of the time I’m stuck drinking foo-foo drinks or cognacs which are disgusting, no matter the kind.

“You know what, I’d really like a glass of ice water with a lemon and a Corona with a lemon too, not a lime. Please,” I order, carefree. This is fun picking out what I really want. Instead of fitting into an image I need to uphold.

“Certainly madam.”  The waiter bows and exits the room.

“Sorry, yes Ruby is my mom. I can’t believe you’ve met her.” He’s obviously shocked. Not that I can blame him. This is a bit odd.

Ruby, his mom, is the sweetest and loudest, most boisterous woman ever. She’s adorable in every sense of the word and I prefer to visit the B&B when she’s there because it makes for more excitement.

“Of course I have. I’ve played cards with her, she kicks my ass in poker and we’ve had a campfire or two. She loves smores.” I feel my eyes light up at the memory. So many mom chats I’ve had with that sweet older woman. She’s a great conversationalist. “So in the winter if she’s there when I visit we make them in the microwave. Ok, I take it back. We don’t, Amy does and we just enjoy the fruits of her labor.” I chuckle.

My drink arrives and I stuff the lemon down the spout and hand the tall pilsner glass back to the waiter. If Brads going bottle, I’m doing it too. It tastes better anyhow. Corona is the only beer we stock at home. That and vodka because I love vodka cranberry’s.

He sits back into his chair rubbing his chin with his fingers through his close cut goatee. He appears to be contemplating something. Maybe he thinks I’m lying. But I couldn’t make this up if I tried. I gaze over to Becka, who’s cuddled up to Andrew; he’s playing with her hair, but they don’t appear to be talking much. Maybe there’s not much to say.

“Are you sure you know my sister and mother? Andrew or somebody else didn’t put you up to this, did they? This just seems like too strange of a coincidence,” he asks through narrowed eyes. He’s definitely not a very trusting man; that’s clear as day. I’m happy for once I’m not making this up.

“Scouts honor.” I hold up my fingers with a purely genuine trust-me smile.

“Ok, so then why haven’t I heard of you? I know of two regulars at the B&B and Tylah isn’t one of them,” he states, pushing his seat back and defensively crossing his arms over his thick chest. The muscles in his arms making a sexy bold statement. Brad’s not a man I’d want to mess with.

I sigh and bite my inner cheek. Damn-it, I don’t give up my real name often. But the jig is up. I glance at Becka and she gives me the nod to proceed. It can’t hurt much anyhow. Maybe this way he’ll trust me.

“I know, because my first name isn’t Tylah, its Alexis.” I push back in my chair reading him. But he’s stony and certifiably unreadable.  “I’m sure you’ve seen two of my sketches in the pink room and the last name’s Monroe for validation. I do know your mom because she snorts when she laughs and sucks chocolate from her fingers rather loudly. Your sister has read all the classics and has tattoo on her left thigh of a rather large family tree.”

“You’re Alexis? Why did you same you’re name’s Tylah then?” His eyes in are tiny slits. He looks angry. This isn’t going how I expected.

“It’s my middle. I have a few stalker ex-boyfriends so I’ve come accustom to using my middle name as my first for the past four years. At least until I trust somebody,” I explain. It’s pretty convincing because he relaxes his shoulders and sucks back another sip of his beer. I follow suit and do the same with my Corona. Damn it tastes good.

We eat our steak, which is amazing. Becka complains that it’s too rare. Little does she know that rare steak is the best kind. I’ve been telling her that for years. She’s a well-done kind of gal. Our conversation stays light and Brad with his amazing eyes, seems to loosen up and mesh with me. He’s very relaxing to be around. Maybe it’s because I feel absolutely no pressure to screw him or make him like me. I’m being myself. It’s likely the last time I’ll ever meet him unless I bump into him when I go to Lolita’s to stay and he happens to be there. But according to him, he lives in Manhattan and Miami. So that’ll be a fat chance. I don’t think I’m his type either. He keeps eyeing Becka. So by my guess, he digs blondes. That would have been helpful when booking us if Andrew knew that. Even though from my understanding they are relatively new friends. By bringing me along tonight, I think it was his way to smooth over a casual encounter and maybe get his single business partner laid. Little does he know, that’s not going to happen. And if Andrew wouldn’t have suggested business attire I would have come dressed in jeans, heels and a normal t-shirt. That’s what you wear when you hang with friends and Brad radiates the friend vibe. Which I am completely cool with.

“So where to?” Andrew says, throwing his cloth napkin over his empty plate.

I rub my stuffed belly. I’m bloated. I don’t usually finish my meals because it makes a woman appear to be fat or over indulgent. Tonight, though, I’m breaking all the client rules.

“Oh, I dunno sweetie. Alexis?” Becka asks. I know she’s confused as to where this is going. I think she should leave with Andrew, it’s obvious he’s about to fuck her right at this table. He can’t stop touching her or complimenting how beautiful she is. I can make it a relatively early night and hit the hay at a decent hour without a sore pussy. That’ll be a first.

“Listen, everyone, this was great, I’m down with whatever you three are wanting to get into,” I add nonchalantly. I want to go with the flow.

“I say we get a hotel room and have a foursome,” Andrew blurts, like this is no big thing, pulling Becka into his lap.

Forward much?

Brad’s head rears back like he’s just been slapped and shakes his head, disgusted.

“Listen, if you three want to do that, by all means. But I’m not into four ways. Or screwing a woman I barely know,” Brad says, the deep bellowing in his voice vibrates through me.

I can’t believe he said no, without hesitation. Now that’s a shocker. Most men are enthusiastic about getting laid right away. At least that’s my extensive experience.

“How about we hit up a club? We can dance and have a great time,” Becka suggests and kisses her man lightly on the cheek.