My Escort (12 page)

I
slipped into my casual white silky dress. I loved this dress; it caressed my curves gently as it flowed down the angles of my body. It was one of the only dresses I couldn’t throw out when I moved from Ithaca to New York. It fit the same as it always did, and now I questioned when the last time was that I actually had the chance to wear it.

I lightly dusted my nose with foundation and reapplied my soft brown lip gloss. I pressed my lips together approvingly in front of the mirror. The gloss gave my lips a nice, shimmery glow. I scrunched up my hair to give it that little more body, smiling at my adolescent aim of impressing a boy I liked.

He was waiting downstairs for me, leaning against the post, with one of his legs raised against it. He hadn’t yet noticed me as I descended the stairs, as he was looking out toward the large open windows of the kitchen. The thick carpet cushioned my steps and I took the chance to admire his strong, handsome side profile. His hair was messy and his strong jawline clenched as he thought of something. When he turned, the first thing he did was run his eyes up my lightly-tanned, shimmering legs. His lips parted as his eyes traveled up my body to rest on my eyes.

“Damon, I have to go,” Michelle said, walking out from the lounge room. She followed his transfixed gaze and smirked knowingly when she saw me. “I like that dress, Clover. It suits you. I am sorry I have to go so quickly after you arrived, but please enjoy today and I look forward to having a few drinks with you tonight. Please make the most of the facilities. It's on us.”

“If she lives by your philosophy, I will be broke by the end of the day,” he goaded.

“Don’t be stupid; I gave you the company card, and I would love to see the day when
your
personal account drops,” she challenged. You could tell they were siblings. They still had that immaturity that made you think that at any moment they might start biting and pulling one another’s hair, but you could also tell they respected one another as well. Michelle’s phone began ringing; she said her goodbye and answered it, her tone instantly changing from light-hearted and playful to sharp and authoritative.

“Shall we?” Damon asked, gesturing toward the door.

“Where are we going first?” I asked, walking through the door and enjoying the fresh smell of sea water. How long had it been since I had been at the
beach
?

“I have heard great things about the gardens, which aren’t too far from here, and then there is a nice restaurant by the pier I have heard wonderful things about. We can do scuba diving and things like—”

“No to the scuba diving,” I said quickly. He raised his eyebrow at me. “Sorry, I freak out under water; it’s just one of those things I don’t think I could ever do. Give me a plane to jump out of any day, but no to the scuba diving.”

“Clover, you realize we are on an island where most activities are based in the water,” he lightly chuckled.

“I didn’t know we were coming here!” I protested laughingly. “But the gardens and restaurant sound wonderful.”

And wonderful they were. There were so many colors; so many exotic smells and sounds. Small tables and chairs in the gardens created a tea-party sort of atmosphere. There were many tourists here already. Some were honeymooners, others were families. Local gardeners who maintained the plants smiled welcomingly at the guests. There was a large rotunda in the middle with beautiful golden trimming, and from here you could see the restaurant that Damon was talking about. Overhead exotic birds swooped and called to one another, adding to the surrealism.

A maze was made from plants and I made sure to record the names as we walked leisurely around. I watched as little blue birds flew around and then ventured past the flowers to rest on the palm trees for a few seconds. Damon told me a little bit about the islands as we walked. He had visited before, and he talked of sweet-smelling pine forests, tropical sands, and the amazing coral rocks. Apparently one of the islands was home to the third longest reef system in the world. We even watched as lizards stole a crab claw from unsuspecting tourists as they sat on a picnic blanket. It was quite funny to watch and we all erupted in laughter as we watched the culprits make their escape. A park guide explained that they were known as the “curly-tailed lizards,” and they were notoriously crafty.

Damon had brought a camera along with him to take photos to accompany my article. Often he would call out my name and catch me by surprise. He would then snap my picture when I had my mouth wide open, demanding “what?” He would laugh every time and I couldn’t help laughing along with him as I tried to wrestle the camera from him. It was nice just to bathe in the sun for an hour or so and enjoy each other’s company. It was also good to know that I couldn’t stereotype him as an escort, or even an eccentric rich man, or a handsome bachelor, but just as a person who admired the flowers as much as I did.

Eventually our walk came to an end. We decided to go to the restaurant for some lunch. The restaurant was beautiful. It was built upon a wooden pier over the green ocean. Wooden tables and chairs were placed near one another, which created an electric atmosphere as holiday makers laughed and drank together, side by side in an exotic paradise. All the doors were left open so you could look over the glimmering ocean. There was an impressive wine rack along the wall beside a large fish tank. The tank contained a small shark which was swimming around in it. It sent shivers brushing up my back as I thought about being stuck in there with it. Overhead, bronze fans swept around in a semi-circle, creating a cool breeze for the diners.

“Just a table for two?” a beautiful waitress asked us. The shimmery gold of her eye shadow contrasted beautifully with the dark glow of her skin.

“Yes please,” Damon replied, gesturing for me to go first as she escorted us to our table. It was a lovely spot, right near the open windows, which opened out over the ocean. She placed the menus down so we could look through them. Quickly I spotted what I wanted. Seafood, of course.

“Would you like an entrée?” Damon asked me whilst looking over his menu. He looked surprise when I lowered my menu to indicate I had made my choice.

“No I am happy with my main, and a glass of red wine,” I said politely.

“You have selected what you want already?” he asked. “Not many women choose so quickly.”

“What are you saying; you’ve brought many women to this place? And here I thought I was special,” I teased.

“You seem to forget, angel puff, that I have escorted many women. And they all seem to take hours to decide upon the same old salad,” he taunted with a cocky smile.

At the mention of a job, a heavy feeling gripped my stomach. I wondered again what kind of escort work he really did. He didn’t need the money, it seemed, so did he just get a kick out of it? If so, there was every chance he would regularly extend his “services.” But now wasn’t the place or the time to ask him. “Well, I’m not a salad kind of girl,” I said in defiance, feeling provoked by being compared to other women.

“No... No, you’re definitely not,” he agreed with a light smile that quickly burned away my slight discomfort. When I looked at him, my heart swarmed, and a warmth filled me. I
wanted
him to control me. He was exciting and made my heart race. For now, that was enough to try and accept.

T
he day went by and I could feel my skin browning under the sun’s hot glow. Although having Damon as a companion was enjoyable, the intimate pressure between us was at times hard to handle. I couldn’t look at him without desire rushing through me. My heart raced at the thoughts, and my legs quivered. My mind wanted to grasp onto reality once again. But as the sun soaked into my skin, I became more dehydrated with each sip of wine that passed by my lips. I could not so easily spark conversation with him. I wanted so much more. I couldn’t fathom the pull; how and when did my body become so consumed by his gaze. When did our games take grasp of my heart and body?

We finished the afternoon with a walk. Damon talked about when the island was first found, and about the sponsor behind the island’s tourism, Mr. Lanter, who was also the owner of the villa in which we stayed. As we walked along the beach, we came across a hut where you could rent horses. To finish the afternoon, we rode on horseback along the beach. The sunset framed the ocean and bathed the whole scene in a warm glow.

There were two families and another couple who were further ahead of us. Damon and I held back slightly to admire the scenery and to take a few photos. The sun’s glow over the water caught my eye, as if reminding me that this really could be my fulltime job. It was stunning and I couldn’t help but admire Damon’s silhouette on horseback, the sunset creating a shadow on the white sand. His muscular frame was outlined, and the image took my breath away.

I laughed hysterically at him when he tried to pose in front of me as I held the camera. He leant far too back at an angle the horse didn’t appreciate and it threw him off. He was uninjured, but I hadn’t the time to ask him if he was all right before my mirth took hold of me.

“You think that’s funny, do you?” he said brushing himself off then guiding his horse toward me by its lead. I still snickered under my breath, unable to disperse the image. “What if I threw you in the water, then? And leave you for the crabs,” he shouted, stomping over to me.

I raised my leg to him, pushing him back in hysterics. “No, my horse won’t let you near me,” I said, still kicking him away. There was no way he could reach me whilst I was so high on my horse.

He managed to grab my leg. He kept his hand there as we both looked up at as birds flocked overhead. The effect against the background was stunning. We both looked on in awe of the beautiful Bahama waters and sun. I collected my camera, focusing on the top of Damon’s head.

“Damon,” I whispered. As he turned to me I clicked the photo, finally getting my first photo of him looking surprised. He had stockpiled far too many of these throughout the day.

“You’re sneaky,” he said with a smile. I once again erupted in laughter when I looked at his horse, recalling him falling once again.

“It’s not funny,” he tapped my leg. “I could have been seriously hurt, and then what? Would you have raced me to the villa on your horse?”

“Are you guys coming!” the instructor yelled back to us huffily.

I giggled under my breath. “I guess you will never know,” I teased, lightly tapping my horse so she would catch up with the rest. He watched me from behind for a while. And when I looked over my shoulder at him with a smile, I nodded my head forward to indicate, “C’mon!”

He jumped back onto his horse, speedily coming to my side.

*

After we had disembarked from the horses and thanked the irritable guide, we began to head back to the limo. We had to walk a fair distance along the beach, but we chatted happily about my work and the time passed too quickly.

When we arrived back Michelle was already waiting for us. She had changed clothes into a bikini top and a deep-purple sarong that was wrapped around her hips. When she walked out to greet us she was laughing and calling to Phillip, and opening her hands out to us to welcome us. There was a red wine in her hand as she yelled out. “Damon, you won’t believe the collection Mr. Lanter has offered us from his wine shed beside the ocean. Apparently the shed was meant to store his jet skis and things, but his ex-wife kept drinking them all, so he hid them there. He encouraged us to help ourselves,” she said animatedly, obviously already half drunk. “Come Clover; let’s partake in some wine tasting together.”

She linked her arm with mine, dragging me away without further hesitation. Michelle was so full of life, even though she had dark circles under her eyes from her busy working schedule. She was enjoying this beyond measures. “I have been waiting all afternoon! I even organized a few cheese platters,” she waved her hand around to swirl the wine before taking another sip. She guided me through the sliding doors to a spacious garden area with a large wooden table. Phillip offered Damon a beer, and they took a seat at the table, chatting amicably.

On our right were two lounge beds and a hammock. We both took a lounge bed each and settled back on the comfortable white cushions. She offered me a glass of red wine, encouraging me to drink as much as I could as there were another two bottles inside, and more in Mr. Lanter’s wooden shed near the beach.

“Phillip, could you whip us up a few snacks? It’s your night to cook,” Michelle called in a sing-song voice. He looked at her with adoring eyes and agreed easily, even when Damon made a quip about him being whipped. He came over to kiss Michelle on the forehead before walking obediently inside.

“You too, Damon,” Michelle demanded, waving him off. Damon followed but not without shooting her a warning look first. “Finally, time for some girl talk!”

And that’s what we did; we talked about our lives, how we came to be who we were, our work ethics, if I enjoyed my position at
Candice
. It felt like an hour easily slipped by and we still had not yet seen the guys. I turned to look in the kitchen, but neither of them were there.

“I wish it was so easy to command them to cook,” she laughed to herself. “I bet they have driven across the island to Phillip’s favorite restaurant to pick something up.”

“How long have you been married?” I asked, now feeling the red wine bubble to my head. Everything became comical. She poured more wine into my glass. This was now my third of the hour.

“Nine years, and it’s been the best nine years of my life. Don’t believe the rumors that marriage is all hard work,” she said with a smile. “So whilst the boys are away, what do you really think of my brother?”

A small rush of air gushed through my lips as I stifled a chuckle, and she giggled in response, as if we were young high school girls. The wine was obviously hitting us hard. I stood up to feel the effect of how tipsy I was. I staggered as I walked; the sun must have dehydrated me a lot more than I had thought. I sat on the hammock as Michelle cut a small piece of camembert cheese and spread it onto a cracker.

“How did he become an escort?” I asked. I tried to retain some dignity by sitting on the hammock, but I quickly realized it was far more comfy to lie back. I swung slightly in the breeze and gazed at the stars as I took another sip.

“He hasn’t spoken to you of that yet?” she asked in surprise. I gave her a pointed look to indicate that he hadn’t. She looked at me for a moment longer before looking up at the stars thoughtfully. She was reluctant to say anything; in fact, I thought she maybe wouldn’t. But then she looked behind her to confirm the kitchen was still empty. “That was my idea, actually. You see, long story short, he was with a woman, Anabelle, they were high school sweethearts. She was my best friend at the time,” her tone took a bitter edge. “She fell pregnant, and they were excited, as they had been together for six years. When he found out, he proposed to her, and everything was fine. Until I found out it wasn’t my brother’s child. It was his best friend’s. So, cutting it short, Damon has never looked at another woman since.”

My mind raced over this, pitying him instantly for what he had went through.

“I started to worry about him. He refused to go out and meet anyone new. One of my friends had no one to take her to some clichéd event, so I suggested he take her. I thought it would do him good to get out of the house, and, well, I thought he might meet someone eventually. My friend insisted that she pay him, and after that it slowly started becoming a regular thing. I didn’t much understand it either. In fact, we even got into a fight about it once. But he was only escorting them and nothing more. But mostly, he was doing it for his writing.”

“Writing?” I asked, looking over the hammock at her.

She gave me a queer smile. “He really hasn’t told you anything, has he? Well, he builds the websites and handles the I.T. operations for
Be True
magazine. When our mother was diagnosed with cancer, my father wanted to be by her side, so he offered the CEO position to Damon. This was all happening about the time he and Annabelle split, so he declined, and I was given the position. But he continued doing the nerdy I.T. stuff I don’t much understand. But he was always a writer; you might have seen his work before. He titles them under ‘Anonymous.’”

              My jaw dropped. Damon was Anonymous?
My mind raced over the thought. All those years I had admired the writing, the sensitivity of each topic, and I had assumed the articles to be written by a woman’s hand.

              “Well,” Michelle continued. “He said that experiencing these events, and being by a woman’s side when not distracted by romance, helped him become more sensitive as a writer. He said it was beneficial to him. He wasn’t leading anyone on, it wasn’t a date, and they paid for his services. And in return he was having an in-sight into so many women’s lives. I was against the idea, but the results quickly showed within a few months on our online magazine. A lot more people were asking for his identity. Other magazines were enquiring if he was a freelancer. I think we even got one offer from
Candice
. Sales increased within those six months by eight percent. My little brother, always the genius,” she said with a smile, taking another sip of her wine.

“To be honest,” she interjected before my mind could focus on any one thing. “That is why I was so surprised when he spoke of you. He never mentioned any of the other women he escorted. I was starting to worry that Annabelle scarred him so much he would never find another woman again. But you...you have piqued his interest, that’s for sure.”

              My mind swallowed that thought. Could she mean that the feelings I was having for him were mutual? Damon was the writer I had admired for so many years. Never would I have thought, with all his cockiness and taunts, that he had been so hurt in the past. I thought of the moment when we had first stared at one another in my apartment when he was helping me with my website page. Did he leave so quickly because he felt something too?

              Suddenly Damon and Phillip came through the doors with a few hot food platters in hand. Michelle had been right—they had been too lazy to cook.

              “Ah, just in time,” Michelle said, swallowing the last of her wine. “We just ran out. Damon can you grab some more wine from the shedy thing near the beach?”

              “Don’t you think you have had enough to drink already?” Damon asked as he placed his platter on the table.

              “Don’t you talk like that to your older sister,” she pretended to scold. “Clover is out as well.” I looked down at the few mouthfuls still left in the glass. She gave me a glance that suggested I drink it, and quickly too. Under her watchful gaze, I drank it and then presented the empty glass in front of everyone. The bitter red wine tasted stale in my mouth.

              “Fine, what are you after?” Damon relented, placing his hands in his pockets.

“I don’t know. Clover, I chose the last two bottles, can you go down and choose something nice for us?” she asked with a sly smile. Damon and I looked at one another, knowing what his sister was trying to pull.

I was slightly amused by her directness. Much like Damon, she liked to play her harmless games. Damon waited for me as I struggled to get out of the hammock. “This hammock is like a trap,”
I thought to myself, trying to twist out of it. When I placed my feet on the ground, my head felt dizzy.

I walked over to him, trying to keep my steps steady. I allowed myself a small smile in triumph when I succeeded. When we were no longer in hearing distance from Michelle and Phillip, he commented on my walking.