Julian isn't dead. And on Saturday night, he was out and about in New York City.
I arrived at the client's apartment at eight o'clock. I shook her hand, then pulled her in for a kiss on the cheek. Believe it or not I actually recognized her perfume -- it was Obsession by Calvin Klein. I told her it was one of my favorite's on a woman.
"Really?" the client said. "I didn't know men paid attention so such things."
"They don't," I replied. "But then again, in my line of work, it pays to pay attention to such things."
She slipped me the white envelope quickly and discretely. I tucked it into my pocket, sure that it was all there. We settled on the sofa where she'd prepared a snack tray of sorts: wine, cheese, sliced pepperoni. Very rare, and just as considerate.
"Forgive me for making a pig out of myself," I said. "But I just love pepperoni."
"The wine is good too," she said. We toasted to what would be a good night, for that was what I was paid to provide. I won't lie -- I loved the feeling of being back in the game. The anticipation, the lingering glances... and yes, the sex.
We made our way to the bedroom. She lay down on the bed, lowered her panties to her ankles and told me to leave them there. Don't take them off. She liked it when a man ate her cunt when she was still dressed.
"Gladly," I said, then plunged my tongue inside of her. Her taste was delectable -- neither bitter not sweet, just hot and wet and filling my mouth. When I finally came up for her I pressed my mouth against hers and gasped when she plunged her on tongue deep into my mouth.
She wanted to know what she tasted like, I gathered. Plenty of women do.
But then again, Simone isn't what I'd call "plenty of women."
I treated her like I would a client. I was assertive, aggressive even, letting my hands do the talking. The idea of role playing had come up last week, and she very much liked the idea of me resurrecting Julian in order to see her as a professional, and not a boyfriend.
Finally I did manage to get her out of her dress. The bottle of wine we'd brought in from the living room stood on the nightstand; I picked it up and poured it over her breasts, then licked each of them clean. I sucked her nipples and then cried out as she did the same to me.
"Fuck me," she said. "But I'm on top."
"You're the boss."
She mounted me slowly, delicately, but quickly gained momentum. She cupped her breasts then let me suck the remnants of Merlot off her fingers. We came together, as always. She fell on top of me, kissed me once more, then let me inhale the sweet smell of her hair.
"We have to do this more often," I said. "Once a week at least."
"Deal," she said. She slid off of me, took the condom off my cock then tossed it in the trash can beside the bed. I was still hard, though that wasn't unusual. Seems at my age erections have a habit of lasting -- something I won't complain about, ever.
"Do you ever really miss it?" Simone asked. "Escorting, that is."
"Of course. The money, the hours -- or lack thereof, however strange -- and being with so many different women."
Simone laughed. "This coming from the man who waxed and waned on his blog how much he just wanted to have sex with me when he was still escorting. Now you're going back on your word."
"Am not," I said. "And don't pretend that you don't miss a few of your clients, too. We all do -- it's part of being an escort." I paused, brought her in close. "Besides, you still get to see yours."
"Yes, but now I beat them instead of fucking them."
"True. But for some guys, that's just as good." Though my eyes were closed, I could practically see Simone smiling.
"Very true," she said. "So rest up, then get ready for round two. My leather belt is waiting."
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