Lustful Memoirs
By: Gina - gina@basic-nstynct.com
Chapter Fifty ThreeI spent the remainder of the day in my bed, the soft pillows, the plush blankets offering no comfort. The blinds were pulled, allowing not a drop of light to pierce the blackness that surrounded me, reminding me of the gloom that gripped my heart. The tears had surfaced the instant I sat behind the wheel of my car, and they continued their moist journey down my face for the entire afternoon. Sobs, followed by quiet tears replaced with more sobs the tide of a river, tumultuous then gentle. I wasn’t sure if the flow would ever stop. At some point, I drifted off to sleep. Restless, fitful slumber, images of him, images of my life, turning over and over in my head. The phone punctured my slumber and I was thankful, even though I knew it was Marie on the other end. I knew she would ask about the night prior, wanting to get as much information about the client as possible. I was in no mood to talk about the time that had passed. Actually in no mood to talk to her at all. Yet, I cursed myself. It was my conscious decision that I was home, that I had to answer her call that I had to do as she asked. It was my decision. I could have given into him, would have been with him at that very moment, and yet I knew that it was better that I didn’t. With that thought I answered the phone, a determined visage covering my face. It was only four weeks. With that thought, I quickly awakened, the thoughts of what the previous night meant crashing full force into me. I didn’t collect the money from the night before. I didn’t uphold my end of our deal. It would be five weeks instead of four, or I could pay the money myself, but that would be the direct opposite of the whole reason that I continued to work for Marie. Five weeks, it would be five, seven more days to lay in bed with a stranger, seven more days until it was over. Was it worth the night that had passed prior, was the short hours I spent wrapped in his arms worth the extension of my sentence? I had to think to myself that it was.
"Blake, dear. How are you?" Marie’s voice caused a wave of nausea.
"I’m fine, Marie. We do need to talk about last night though."
"Yes, indeed we do. I got a call from the client. His friend was more then pleased, told him that he had indeed experienced the best thing that LA has to offer. I hear that from your clients all of the time, I’m so sad that I’ll be losing you."
I blanched. What the hell was she talking about? And how was I to explain that, although she thought I had done such a marvelous job, I had no cash to show for it.
"But, Marie…" I couldn’t finish before she interrupted.
"Blake, there are absolutely no buts. However, I’m not clear on one point. Why did the client chose to pay me personally, instead of just giving you the money last night. That goes against our rules, Blake. I am unsure as to why you left this morning without collecting the fee. That might not have worked out in your favor."
"Marie, you told me how important this client was," I attempted to keep my voice stable, unwilling to let her know what had actually happened, unwilling to let her hear the confusion in my voice as I tried to comprehend exactly what had happened. "I didn’t want to offend him last night when I was told that he would pay you directly."
"Of course, Blake. I understand. Anyway, I’m tickled pink by the events of the day. And have a special job for you this evening as well. It’s a hotel on the coast, very chic. You will like the place, it suits you."
She continued to dribble. I wrote down the hotel information, not listening to a word she uttered after that. I tried to stifle the thoughts that continued to swirl in my head. What had happened? My mind drifted to him, he had, or someone had paid the hefty cost for the previous night yet I offered no service. It had to be him. I smiled, shaking my head. At every turn, without ever giving notice, he continued to amaze me. My thoughts reverted back to the previous evening, his arms wrapped around me, our bodies entwined, his breath fanning across my forehead, the rhythmic beat of his heart, his steady breath. I don’t know how long Marie continued to talk, but I was pulled from my reverie, as she mentioned that I had to stop by and pick up the money that belonged to me. Then she said that she had to go, she had things to do. She muttered her good-bye and I hung up the phone, without responding. I glanced at the clock and then at the information I had written on the pad, barely making out my own handwriting in the darkness. I sighed. I had to get ready for the coming evening, and although I dreaded it with every fiber of my being, it was only four weeks, and at the end, his arms would capture me again.
I arrived at the hotel, the sea air surrounding me, clinging to my hair, my clothes, tickling my nose. If I opened my mouth, I could almost taste the salt burn my tongue. The waves crashed in the distance, making sweet music that lingered in my ears. Marie was right. The place did suit me, if only I was going to meet my lover for a romantic weekend retreat and not this faceless, nameless client. I sighed, in time. Perhaps it would be that way. However, as the four weeks, the twenty-eight days, the 672 hours, the 40,320 minutes stretched out before me, it seemed it would be an eternity. I turned on my heel, walking toward the building.
I made my way through the lobby and to the room to stand in front of the door. I stood for a minute, trying to envision the man that would be on the other side. For the first time since I started working for Marie I wondered how the client felt. Was he nervous? Was he anxious? I wondered if he shared my feelings. Did he wish that the person standing on the opposite side of the door was the love of his life? Did he wish that the person that was meeting him held his heart and that he held theirs?
I shook my head, bothered by my thoughts. It didn’t matter what he thought or what he felt. The only thing that mattered was that he would get off, he would pay me and then one of us would leave. I knocked on the door.
The door opened revealing a tall man, dark hair covering his head, a black suit and white gloves graced his gangly body. He held the appearance of a butler. Dread filled me. I earnestly hoped that he wasn’t into role-playing, and that he didn’t want me to be the maid to his butler. I was in no mood. I wanted to have sex, satisfy him and leave. Participating in some stupid, silly foreplay game held no interest for me.
He pulled the door further toward him allowing me entry. I passed over the threshold, the familiar wave of nausea hitting me. I suppressed it, glancing around the nicely decorated room. In the center was a small table, arranged for dinner. I tried not to sigh at the dismay I felt, not only did it appear that he wanted to play games, but he wanted to be romantic too. I wanted to scream, "Can we just fuck so I can leave?" But I knew what Marie’s reaction would be if she heard that.
"Ma’am." His voice pulled me from my thoughts. "Through that door, you will find your clothes for the evening. Please change into them, and I will meet you back here when you are done."
I rolled my eyes, then quickly masked my features in the apathetic grin I typically wore, thankfully the man before me didn’t notice. I turned, retreating through the door that he pointed out. I expected to find the standard issue maid’s uniform. What I did find surprised me.