Buying Thyme (9 page)

“Tom Smythe.” He says to Ben with an impressive voice.

“Pleased to meet you sir. I will be back to pick Miranda up at eleven, tomorrow morning, as requested sir. Enjoy your night.” Ben returns to the elevator, “Evening Miranda.” Ben says looking at me as the elevator doors slide closed.

I turn back to Tom. Suddenly, feeling very lost in his beauty.
Not what I expected at all Mr Smythe!
I notice that he too is somewhat lost for words. He looks me in the eye very sheepishly, not daring to lay them anywhere else on my body. I break into
Miranda the seductress
mode upon recognizing Tom’s equally uncomfortable disposition.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you
Mr Smythe.” I stretch out my hand to meet his. 

Tom takes my hand in his, and takes a moment longer in his reply as he shakes it slowly. His touch against my skin is electrifying. I feel a pinch in the inner most parts of my body.

“Yes it is a pleasure to have finally met you Miranda.” He says slowly, “I have heard so much about you.” His hand releases mine but the pulse of electricity still remains firm inside my body, “Please. Come in. Would you like a drink or something to eat?” He says as he turns and walks back into the Penthouse’s entrance.

“Some champagne would be nice. I can order in some items for us. If you don’t mind? It’s what I usually do.” I say as I go into my remote control ‘escort’ mode.

“Sure, if that would make you feel more comfortable. But I have to tell you up front Miranda. I don’t want to have sex with you. It’s not what I got you here for. I’ll explain that to you soon. Would you like some dinner?” He says as he walks over to the kitchen, overlooking Bondi beach.
What? He doesn’t want sex? Great! He’s one of those kinds of men!
Let me guess… He either wants me to put on a show for him while he jerks himself off in the corner…  or he wants me to do some other kinky BDSM without the sex as the finale! Full bondage and discipline is usually extra… and he didn’t stipulate those specifics with Miss Stephanie, so unfortunately I am ill equipped tonight. He must just want to jerk off while he watches me frolic around naked.
So disappointing!
Where are the nice normal men in the world? Obviously
not
ordering hookers! I leave my suitcase in the entrance and follow Tom to the kitchen. The whole penthouse has dark woods with red accents, very much like a New York styled apartment.

“So what would you like to do to me tonight then
Mr Smythe?” I ask in my cool, calm, seductive voice, despite my mind racing at a million miles per hour.

“We’ll discuss that later. I am starving though. If you wanted to order something yourself… if that’s what you normally do, then I am fine with that.” He says, popping a bottle of Pol Roger champagne.

“The other items I
was
intending on ordering are usually part of the package. Which generally on these bookings… ends in sex. Was there something else that you had in mind?” I try and probe.

Tom laughs. His grin is just breathtaking as he pours us a glass each. His eyes remain fixed on the glass he’s pouring into. He still doesn’t reply.

“Have you ever had an escort before Mr Smythe?” I ask curiously.

“No. I haven’t.” He snaps at me, loudly planting the glass on the brown granite bench in front of me.
 

He quickly turns to put the champagne in the fridge. I am starting to get really confused. If he has asked for my services, why is he so irritated when asked such a simple question?

“So would you like to order dinner or shall I?” He asks, changing the subject completely, but remaining equally as cold.

“I’ll have what you’re having.” I bid, avoiding any further hostility from him.

“Fine. I will order. Feel free to take your glass and head out onto the terrace. The view is lovely out there. I’ll join you in a moment.” He replies, starting to sound slightly less agitated.

“I think I might slip into something more comfortable.” I say with a slight smile and raise of the eyebrow.

“If you’re suggesting that you are going to take your clothes off Miranda, don’t bother. In fact feel free to put more clothes on. Don’t get me wrong, you are absolutely stunning, but all I am interested in from you tonight is some company. Nothing more. Nothing less. Now feel free to wear whatever you like, but don’t do anything for the sake of me. I don’t need it.” He abruptly picks up the phone and speaks into the receiver, turning away from me as he does so. 

I eye his big strong hands and suddenly wonder what they would feel like inside me. His abrupt manner towards me only adds to his sex appeal right now. I shake my head to dissolve the thoughts floating around inside, and decide to head out onto the terrace, as directed. I feel slightly rejected as the reality of the situation sets in. What a strange yet interesting man. This isn’t the first time I have been booked just for my company, but not for my top asking price. Those types of bookings are requested up front and are a slightly lower fee than the usual ‘straight up sex’ booking. The half moon is rising above the ocean, but doesn’t cast much light across the water. I sit at the modern red and white designer table set that looks very Nordic in design, and watch the people out on the promenade across from the beach. Tom joins me with his glass of champagne and sits down next to me. I smile at him to gauge his mood.

“I’ve never been to this hotel. It’s not what I expected. It’s more New York apartment than the beach side chic I imagined.” I begin, not looking at him for fear of melting.

“Yes, I like it. It’s home for me for now until I find a new place.”

“Oh, what happened to your old place?” I ask as politely as possible, hoping that I haven’t irritated him again. 

He laughs as he looks over at me.

“I just arrived back into the country a month ago, after being away in London for the past fifteen years. So I haven’t quite made a home for myself in Australia as yet.” As he replies, I do notice a tinge of a hybrid accent, initially perceiving it as him just being well spoken.

“What made you come back after so long away?” I again hope I’m not prying too much.

“Unfortunately my wife died five months ago, so I thought it was time to come home and start again.” He says colder than I would have expected from a man who has recently become a widower.

“Oh… I’m sorry.” I look into my glass of champagne and feel extremely uncomfortable by his sudden frankness.
 

Me and my big inquisitive mouth! I understand now why he doesn’t want to have sex with me, but I don’t quite understand why he’s telling me this, after just meeting me fifteen minutes ago.

“I don’t have many friends in this country. Which has been great for the last few weeks. But I’m starting to feel a little bored with my own company now. So… here you are. I really don’t expect anything from you Miranda. I just needed to have a conversation with someone other than myself, before I start going completely nutty.”

“Sounds fair enough.” I reply feeling surprisingly relaxed in the newfound company of Tom Smythe.
 

I stare out at the promenade again, finishing my glass of champagne in record speed.
Pol Roger… your taste gets me every time!
The intercom in the kitchen buzzes to life and Tom jumps up to attend to it. A moment later he re-appears on the terrace.

“I hope you don’t mind… I decided that I’ve been cooped up in here long enough, so I thought we could go out for a bite to eat.” He says as he sits back down next to me.
 

I look down at the somewhat more provocative attire to be wearing on a casual Monday night out in Bondi. Tom on the other hand, is wearing well-fitted selvage jeans with an un-tucked red and white striped Tommy Hilfiger shirt, and black and white chequered slip-on Vans. I look over at him and try to seem happy at his decision. After all, I am his paid for company. Once again, I’m compelled to follow any reasonable requests that my client may have.

“I also took the liberty of ordering you some clothes to wear out, so you can feel more comfortable. I gathered that you wouldn’t have too many casual clothes in that bag of tricks you brought along.” I feel my cheeks start to flush with heat. 

How very interesting.
I smile genuinely at the suggestion, and wonder what I must look like to him, with my hooker red lips and sexier than normal suit. I pull my jacket inwards, to try and hide my bare chest. I feel my bottom lip start to strain under my top teeth. I catch a quick glance at Tom, praying that he’s not judging me too much right now.
Why do I care all of a sudden? He knew what I did before I even walked through the door!

I feel some relief from the whole situation when I hear the elevator doors open. Tom leaves momentarily to welcome the delivery. I quickly pour myself another glass of champagne and skull it in one quaff before pouring another glass for myself, and one for Tom. Moments later he strolls back into the penthouse from the foyer. A couple of square shaped, designer store bags in his hand. I walk to him with his champagne glass and smile, genuinely happy with the added courage that the dose of alcohol has just given me.

“Swap you?” He says as he holds out the bags for me to take in exchange for his glass of champagne.

CHAPTER 8

As soon as
I’ve finished staring around the gorgeous dark wood and white marble en-suite off of the main bedroom, I look inside one of the bags and find a pair of red skinny jeans, by my favourite Australian jean designers, Ksubi, in my size of course. Another bag has a white shirt with a black mask, screen printed on it and a black tuxedo style jacket by Sass & Bide, another fabulous Australian designer. I was very impressed that Tom knew my size just by looking at me, as well as knew my style perfectly. Somehow though, I don’t quite know how to take the suggestion to change from what I was wearing. Sure, I too felt a little insecure about going out in public dressed like this, despite my best to hide that fact, but I still can’t help but wonder… did he think my attire screamed hooker, or am I just a little over dressed for a Monday night? I decide that I’ll just accept the fact that we are in Bondi, an area that’s more boho than the sightly slutty corporate look I’m sporting. I skull the remainder of the champagne I brought in with me, and promptly change into the new clothes. I give myself mild shock when I look in the mirror and see my unrecognisable face reflecting back at me. I decide that I must fix my overly made-up face. I try my hardest to wipe off the excess eye make-up and lipstick but fail miserably. Now I just look more like a street worker who’s had a hard night, rather than the ‘
every day
’ girl I was attempting to find under the multitude of layers. I decide the only solution is to wash off Kelly’s best efforts altogether, and start again with my own make-up. I go to grab my make-up kit from my suitcase, and find that it’s now conveniently placed inside the bedroom door. Tom’s attentively perceptive! He must’ve moved it there while I was getting changed. I guess he has an eye for attention to detail and has foresight, something that most men lack! Explains why he picked an outfit perfectly for me.

After scrubbing my face down and reapplying make-up with far less effort, I decide I am now ready to face Tom, who must be waiting so patiently for me to reappear. I take one last look and can’t help but feel my make-up looks rushed. I leave my hair down in the nice waves and put my black pumps back on.

Tom is sitting
patiently out on the terrace with
his back to me,
gazing out over the ocean. I see that the bottle of champagne is finished. He must be just as nervous to have me around as I am about being here, for some strange reason. I realise that I am probably to first woman he’s been in the company of since his wife died. I feel sad for this delicate, broken-hearted man. He hears me approaching him from behind and turns to greet me with the most jaw-dropping smile.

“Wow! You look fantastic Miranda!” He says as he gets up from his seat.

“I feel much more comfortable… Thank you.” I reply, genuinely feeling so.

“Do you know Bondi well at all?” He asks inquisitively.

“I do actually… I don’t live too far… But… You didn’t hear me just say that right?” I blurt out before I realise I’ve given him way too much information. 

God what is wrong with me at the moment?
My head is starting to get fuzzy from the quick succession of glasses of champagne.

“Never heard it!” He says with a wink, momentarily hiding his gorgeous blue eye from me, “Well then. You may know where to go for a nice bite… with a casual crowd. I’ll let you be the tour guide for the night Miranda.”

“Expensive tour guide!” I reply, expecting the common repulse clients usually get from me stating the obvious about my paid for company. But instead, Tom is very much amused by my joke, and laughs. 

He looks down and shakes his head as if to be all too aware of the reality of the situation and for once, he seems very comfortable with it. From where I’m standing I have an ideal view of his perfect profile and his sexy-as-hell dimples lining the side of his cheek as he smiles. I don’t think I’ve been around someone so beautiful. His looks are mesmerising and all I want to do for once is kiss him all over and make him beg for more. In fact I would pay
him
to have sex with me and he doesn’t even want to touch me!
Oh this is going to be torture!

“I know just the place.” I say to interrupt the silence... and my wicked thoughts.

We head down
to the foyer of The Bondi and
pass the concierge. For once I look more like a girlfriend than a paid-for-date. I lead Tom across the promenade and pedestrian crossing, over to the beachfront and towards the pavilion, situated just off the beach. We walk casually together but we don’t talk, nor do we hold hands. I subtly glance in his direction to make sure he’s not uncomfortable, but he catches my eye and smiles wildly back at me. I feel a twinge in the pit of my stomach like a schoolgirl with a crush on a boy for the first time. What is with me at the moment, having feelings for clients? First Joe Tench and now Tom Smythe. I have to admit, the last few bookings have been with fairly attractive men, between the poor infatuated Michael Stephens, Joe Tench and now the ridiculously handsome Tom Smythe. I have had a fantastic run compared to the normal carbon-copy-scrawny- businessmen that I usually have to have sex with.
Definitely a good time to take a break and have a bit of time to myself
. My trail of thoughts allows Tench to slowly seep back into my mind. I wonder what he’s doing tonight? Probably debt collecting… in the most violent of ways as the last phone call I heard suggested.
Get him out of your head!
You’re with a gorgeous man who looks like a young Paul Newman and you’re thinking about that criminal Tench?
Quivers role over my body. I fold my arms across my chest as the cool wind blows straight off the South Pacific.

“Is it just me, or is it cooler a lot sooner in Australia than I remember it being?” Tom says when he notices me shiver, “It’s only mid way through March and the warm weather feels like it is well and truly over already!”

“Yeah I know. But we didn’t really get much of a summer this year, so you didn’t really miss anything anyway.” I reply with my arms firmly wrapped around my chest.

Strolling across the beachfront, I can finally make out the coloured party lights, strung underneath oversized white umbrellas at our destination. As we approach
The Bucket List-
the latest in Sydney’s ‘pop-up-bar’ trend- I hear the crowd is unusually vibrant for a Monday evening. There is a three-piece band playing cool Spanish-style music to the young patrons. All band members are shoeless, and look as if they’ve all just rolled out of bed for the gig, which pretty much matches the relaxed atmosphere of the mainly Gen Y crowd. We pass through the front seating area, scattered with settings made of recycled products such as milk crates and stacked wooden pallets, and various odd-matching chairs. Inside is slightly different to outside, with some of the furniture actually matching one another. Luckily enough for us, there is a private booth available against a window overlooking the beach.

Tom places his
hand across my back to guide
me into the booth. I feel a sudden spike in my temperature. I try and hide that I’m starting to flush by looking out at the ocean until my face has cooled. A young blonde waitress brings over some menus and lets us know that ordering is all done directly at the bar. Like most young waitresses in the area, she’s obviously a traveller with a strong Scandinavian accent. She barely notices I’m there, her eyes fixated on Tom. Tom seems completely oblivious to the waitress noticeably ogling over him. His eyes remain gripped on me. I have never been around a man who commands more attention than I do. Now I know how all of my clients must feel. I don’t mind it really. Feels nice to know that others look but can’t touch… little do they know that neither can I! Tom turns to the waitress after noticing her pausing longer than necessary.

“Was there anything else?” He asks with his head tilted to the side.
 

The waitress doesn’t reply, but I see she is a deep crimson as she turns to walk away.

“This place is great Miranda.” Tom says as he looks around. 

His blue eyes flicker in the candlelight coming from below. The booth is very intimate. The entire room has a dim light, enhancing the mood of the bar. Most of the crowd look like they are engaged in friendly banter with one another, creating a fun atmosphere. For once I actually feel like I’m part of society, as apposed to my usual feeling of being a fringe dweller to it all.

“So what would you like to drink?” Tom asks as he peruses over the menu list.

“I’m in the mood for some Sangria. How about you?” I ask with a confident smile.

“Good idea. It certainly matches the atmosphere in here, especially with that band!” He says nodding to the band playing beside us.

I watch Tom
at the bar from my seat, his
strong upper physique casually leaning over the bar. I can see that he is conversing coolly with the staff behind the bar while they mix our Spanish punchy-cocktail into a pitcher. They’re all laughing at something Tom said. Tom seems to exude a certain grace, making it easy to be around him. He is very confident in this environment, despite what he must have been through recently. He hands over a card and turns with pitcher in hand. I’m completely absorbed by this wonder of a man, my head resting in my hand as I watch him from the booth. He looks at me with a momentary frown, but beams his flawless smile at me as he strolls across the room. I must look like a crazed teenager staring at her idol! I start to feel my cheeks prick with heat again as I realise how captivated I am by his oozing sex appeal… just like the poor waitress earlier. Maybe she recognised who he is? I look out the window to the shimmering ocean and wonder why I am so embarrassed around this man this evening.

“I ordered us a bucket of prawns for a starter. Did you know that everything here comes in a bucket! What a great idea… Now I get the whole ‘
Bucket List
’ thing.” Tom says as he plonks himself down rather brutally in front of me,

“They even do buckets of beers! What a great idea.” He continues.
 

I look across at the other tables outside and notice the brightly coloured mini buckets, filled with bottles of beer. The buckets trigger my mind to be drawn back again to the memory of my weekend with Joe Tench. I start to feel a knot form in my stomach as my emotions are pulled between anger, hurt and confusion. Why am I still reeling with emotions over Tench?
Aaargh
… I should be stronger than this! This just doesn’t feel right to be still thinking of Tench.

“
Miranda
… Are you still with me?” I realise that the gorgeous Tom is still talking to me while my mind drifted back to Tench.

“Yeah. Sorry Tom. I just remembered that I have to organise someone to feed my cat.” I lie.

“Did you want to quickly go and do it now? You said you lived nearby. Well… not that I know that.” Tom winks at me with the last statement. My heart melts under his charm.

“No that’s fine. I’m home tomorrow. She will be fine.”

“So Miranda. I know you live near Bondi and I know you have a cat. What else am I to find out about you tonight?” Tom’s cheeky smile causes me to flush feverishly out of control.

“It’s alright. I’m just joking. Your secrets are safe with me.”

I pour myself a glass of sangria from the pitcher and avoid all eye contact. I can’t believe that I am so open with this
client
!

“Well seeing as you seem to know so much about me, why don’t you tell me more about yourself?” I try to change the subject quickly,

“Tell me about what you intend to do now that you’re back in Australia.”

“I’m not sure yet really. I still feel a bit lost to be honest. You think you have your life all planned out and then suddenly it’s all ripped away from you. I… I just don’t know what to do or where to start really. I found myself just wandering around in circles around my old apartment in London, so that’s why I decided to ship myself back to Australia. I had to get away. Start again. See new places and unfamiliar faces.”

I look down at my glass, the realisation of Tom’s pain more apparent than I realised or cared to understand before. I catch his eyes staring at me and I smile weakly.

“What was her name?” I ask, hoping that his sincerity is because he wants to share his pain with me.

“Sarah.” He smiles his intoxicating smile at me. I can’t help but reciprocate my smile in return. I feel so comfortable around this beautiful, caring man. I want more of him. I want someone like him as a boyfriend. Why do I want a boyfriend? I’m a prostitute! And who would have me?

“I bet she was beautiful.”

“Yes. Very much so.” 

A waiter places two yellow pales, one bursting with bright red tiger prawns and the other empty. The arrogant waiter quickly turns on his heel without saying a word to us. Tom smiles softly while reaching over for a prawn, breaking the head from its body and places the unwanted head in the empty bucket. I too grab a prawn and do the same. Tom places his hand on mine as I grab a prawn from the bucket. A butterfly flaps vehemently in the pit of my stomach as I feel his skin brush against mine only for the third time since meeting him.