She curled up sinuously around me, and I pulled her close. She looked up at me, smiled, and laid her head on my chest. I nuzzled her silky hair, breathed deeply and relished her delicate fragrance. I'm in bliss. Judging by the smile on her face, I think she is too.
To absolutely everyone else in the world, it was just another session with my favorite. And I think that she would just tell others that it was another date with one of her regular clients. And for the most part, both those things are absolutely true. It was a transaction, payment exchanged for services rendered, as told in the cold light of day.
Yet, there is so much more. Because I've seen that soft look in her eyes. I've seen much more than fondness behind them. And I think that she has seen the same from me, I'm sure, although she has never pointed it out. So much has been left unspoken between us.
I remember the day we first we met. It was instant chemistry, a lightning bolt striking us both. We ravished each other with wild abandon that day, in a way that only mutually attracted total strangers can. I relive that evening every time I reread my review of her. I smile at all the bravado in that tale, the crowing worthy of the most macho locker room talk. But still. The memory of that last gentle kiss that evening, though, lives on only in my memories. I could never have whispered about it on anyplace as blunt and crude as an escort review board.
I've been seeing her for a long time. I think that it's been four years now. We've had our ups and downs to be sure. We've argued, at times. About nothing much of importance, really. But it's never been long before we've made up, and I'm at her door again. And oh, it's true what they say about the best part of making up.
I have so many happy memories with her. The truth is, many of them were right here, in this bed. But it's not just the delicate touches, the deep and passionate kisses, and the barely controlled thrusting I remember. I love lying beside each other, just like this, with her. We make jokes. We laugh. We share our little secrets, whispered in each other's ear, for just the two of us only. And I remember one special afternoon, a surprise stroll down to the river. A checkered blanket laid out on the grass, the sun sparkling on the water. I brought bread I made myself, some meat, cheese and fruit. A nice wine I picked just for the occasion. We talked under the summer sun about everything in the world except the review boards, her business, my hobby. She was off the clock, and I had no expectations about how we might spend our time. We were just friends that day, nothing less.
Our time together has outlived jobs, my other flirtations in this hobby world, some of my bigger life changes. Our time has become an indispensable part of my life. Yet, I don't have any illusions that things would stay the same if I was no longer able to pay her. I once started to tally up what I've left at her candy store and I've shaken my head. I could have had a very nice car instead, or perhaps a down payment on some property.
But sometimes money is just useless printed flimsy plastic. Just random electronic ciphers in a bank account. Having saved the money instead would have provided me more security, but it wouldn't have bought me happiness. And she makes me so very happy. Not that I could ever tell her that. We have our boundaries.
All that money has bought time with her. And that time with her allowed me to get something that was priceless, for I couldn't have paid her to be as kind as she has been to me. I couldn't have bought her true and honest friendship. I couldn't have paid her to freely share what was in her heart and in her mind as she just had, mere moments ago.
So I'll hope, and I'll dream of the day when we can drop our boundaries, although I know it's a fool's fantasy. I imagine, in the deepest, darkest corner of my heart, that she wishes the same things too. But I know we'll never talk about it. It won't go any further. I know we'll never uproot our lives for each other, because we both have so much to lose.
Still, I can dream. And I do. And I dream that she does too.
To absolutely everyone else in the world, it was just another session with my favorite. And I think that she would just tell others that it was another date with one of her regular clients. And for the most part, both those things are absolutely true. It was a transaction, payment exchanged for services rendered, as told in the cold light of day.
Yet, there is so much more. Because I've seen that soft look in her eyes. I've seen much more than fondness behind them. And I think that she has seen the same from me, I'm sure, although she has never pointed it out. So much has been left unspoken between us.
I remember the day we first we met. It was instant chemistry, a lightning bolt striking us both. We ravished each other with wild abandon that day, in a way that only mutually attracted total strangers can. I relive that evening every time I reread my review of her. I smile at all the bravado in that tale, the crowing worthy of the most macho locker room talk. But still. The memory of that last gentle kiss that evening, though, lives on only in my memories. I could never have whispered about it on anyplace as blunt and crude as an escort review board.
I've been seeing her for a long time. I think that it's been four years now. We've had our ups and downs to be sure. We've argued, at times. About nothing much of importance, really. But it's never been long before we've made up, and I'm at her door again. And oh, it's true what they say about the best part of making up.
I have so many happy memories with her. The truth is, many of them were right here, in this bed. But it's not just the delicate touches, the deep and passionate kisses, and the barely controlled thrusting I remember. I love lying beside each other, just like this, with her. We make jokes. We laugh. We share our little secrets, whispered in each other's ear, for just the two of us only. And I remember one special afternoon, a surprise stroll down to the river. A checkered blanket laid out on the grass, the sun sparkling on the water. I brought bread I made myself, some meat, cheese and fruit. A nice wine I picked just for the occasion. We talked under the summer sun about everything in the world except the review boards, her business, my hobby. She was off the clock, and I had no expectations about how we might spend our time. We were just friends that day, nothing less.
Our time together has outlived jobs, my other flirtations in this hobby world, some of my bigger life changes. Our time has become an indispensable part of my life. Yet, I don't have any illusions that things would stay the same if I was no longer able to pay her. I once started to tally up what I've left at her candy store and I've shaken my head. I could have had a very nice car instead, or perhaps a down payment on some property.
But sometimes money is just useless printed flimsy plastic. Just random electronic ciphers in a bank account. Having saved the money instead would have provided me more security, but it wouldn't have bought me happiness. And she makes me so very happy. Not that I could ever tell her that. We have our boundaries.
All that money has bought time with her. And that time with her allowed me to get something that was priceless, for I couldn't have paid her to be as kind as she has been to me. I couldn't have bought her true and honest friendship. I couldn't have paid her to freely share what was in her heart and in her mind as she just had, mere moments ago.
So I'll hope, and I'll dream of the day when we can drop our boundaries, although I know it's a fool's fantasy. I imagine, in the deepest, darkest corner of my heart, that she wishes the same things too. But I know we'll never talk about it. It won't go any further. I know we'll never uproot our lives for each other, because we both have so much to lose.
Still, I can dream. And I do. And I dream that she does too.
