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“Yes... I mean, no. Not really.”

  “What’s bothering you?”

  “It’s the same old thing. And I’m sick of talking about it, but today, of all days, I had an epiphany after I saw that man at the gym.”

  A soft laugh travels to me.

  “Are you still thinking about him? Poor guy. He made quite an impression on you.”

  I smile.

  “Yeah. He did, didn’t he? Although not a good one. I forgot about him and then I remembered him as I was having dinner, and it dawned on me that maybe that’s all there is out there. What if I’m wasting my time hoping to find something else?”

  “What are you talking about?” she asks, a dash of worry tinging her voice. “You’re not thinking about settling down with someone just for the sake of it, are you?”

  “No, no,” I say with a softer voice. “It’s not that, although it is in a way. What if all I need is a klutz and make it work. Suck it up in other words.”

  “You tried that before.”

  “Yeah, I did. And when I failed at it I thought that all I needed was to move up a league and find someone better. What if all I needed was to kick my expectations down a notch? It’s pretty realistic if you ask me.”

  She puffs at the other end.

  “That’s not the only kind of man out there.”

  “Keep the Kings out of that,” I say, laughing.

  She breathes out a chuckle too.

  “Kings aside, there’s your father. And even my father is a good example. Despite his questionable choices, he never acted like a, um... klutz.”

  I sigh again.

  “What?” she mutters.

  “I could give you several examples of men who are different than my father and your father and women who put up with them. And things seem to be working just fine.”

  “It’s not about that. People choose whatever works for them. It wouldn’t work for you, Eve.”

  “I’m not arguing that with you, but the truth is, I can’t find someone after all this time.”

  “Oh, come on. It can’t be that bad.”

  I laugh quietly.

  “No?” I mutter amused.

  “No. You said that you started to date again and you found a few guys.”

  “Uh-huh. Yeah, I did. And you know what happened?”

  “No.”

  “I wanted to spare you the details because it was beyond ridiculous, but seemingly, I need to share my experience with you so that you get a better idea. Three people were interested in me at one point. That was a couple of weeks ago. They were all looking for long-term relationships, or so they said. They had good jobs, their own places, degrees, the works. One was much older. It didn’t bother me. He was skilled at charming me. He had a nice conversation, good manners, and he took me out to dinner at a nice restaurant.”

  “So far so good.”

  “Uh-huh. Then, he invited me to his place and fixed me a drink and before I knew it the conversation shifted from casual stuff to his high-octane career and stellar accomplishments, his family and weekly schedule, and not surprisingly to the way he’d like to see my life adjusted to his world. He gave me an idea of how he wanted our relationship.”

  “Wait, wait... Wait. Did he say that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you bring up the relationship topic?”

  “On the dating app, I said that I was looking for a good match and I was considering a relationship if things worked out.

  “Okay. Go on.”

  I take a deep breath and continue.

  “By the time, he hinted to me that he wanted me to visit his bedroom, he had my life planned for the next five years without me having a say.”

  “Oh...” she mutters.

  I laugh.

  “You think you’re disappointed? You have no idea how I felt.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I excused myself, told him that my aunt called––”

  “What aunt?”

  “Exactly. And off I went. I ran for the hills. The next day, he blocked me on the dating up. I didn’t do anything to him. Really. Other than not liking the fact that he didn’t even bother to ask me if I liked the life plan that he had drawn for me.”

  “Okay,” she says with a quiet voice.

  “The next guy was a young professional like me. He invited me to dinner as well. Right from the get-go, he told me that he never pays for a woman’s dinner the first time he takes her out. He needs to know her, and that’s what the first date is for. I said... okay. I didn’t have anything against it at first. But then I quickly learned that the first date was also an opportunity to test a woman for how much crap she was willing to take. He wasn’t very charming or courteous with me either. And then, in the middle of the second course, he started to talk to me about his sexual prowess and how masterful he is at giving women multiple orgasms, and how they always beg for more. That killed my appetite and made for a very short first date.”

  “Oh, boy.”

  “Yeah. The last man was a couple of years younger. I have no idea why the app thought that we were a good match. He had a background in arts, and I said, okay. I expected someone with an artistic and creative side, and perhaps a little more profound than the rest of the bunch if I didn’t ask for much. Someone interesting. We spent some time in a coffeehouse down on Lexington Avenue. I just couldn’t see myself in a restaurant with him quarreling over who pays what. The man had the attention span of a love bug in a mating season and the conversation skills of a doorknob. I lost him to a blueberry muffin topped with whipped cream and sprinkled with powder sugar that completely captivated him for a good ten minutes. I walked out a moment later. So that was that.”

  “Hmm... Maybe you should take a break from this.”

  “I did take a break, but then I started to feel lonely, and I began to think about the future. I don’t want to be alone for the next five years. Or ten, or more. That’s why I thought that if all there was out there was that, maybe I should adjust my expectations.”

  “It wouldn’t do you any good. The heart wants what the heart wants. You wouldn’t be happy.”

  “Well, I’m not happy now either, but I don’t want to be alone. And I’m aware that I can feel lonely with them too. I felt that way with these men, and others before them, while I was having dinner or a drink or a chat. But I’m thinking that I might get used to it... To them. To someone like them. Anyone, for fuck’s sake. And ultimately, I could like him.”

  I stay silent.

  “Listen. I know that it’s disheartening, but these things don’t work that way. I wouldn’t write off the right man just yet if I were you. And there is no better way to increase your chances of crossing paths with him than going out and meeting new people.”

  She pauses.

  I speak.

  “I agree. But until then, I want to try something different. I want to shed my fears and regain my confidence before I go out and date again. That’s why I want you to help me.”

  “Okay...” she mutters. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

  “I’ve done some online research, but I couldn’t find enough details, and I’d rather have a recommendation from someone who knows these things instead of poking around blindly.”

  “Are we talking escorts again?”

  “Yes. And it’s not again. It’s the first time I’m serious about it.”

  A few moments of silence slip away from us.

  “Are you going to help me?” I ask.

  She ponders for a moment.

  “I can make a few calls.”

  “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

  “But...”

  “There is no but. I’m doing it.”

  “Yeah... Yeah. I’m not going to stop you. I don’t think it would solve your problem, but I understand your decision. Before you do that, there are a few things that I’d like to point out.”

  I slacken against my pillow.

  “The men that are, um, available for this kind
of activity...”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “While they may be good looking and perfect liars, they shut down their emotions.”

  “It’s not much different than what I’ve experienced before, other than the upgrade in the looks department and being better liars.”

  “Good point. So, what I wanted to say was that you would still feel alone, and I am talking about those few hours you would spend with him.”

  “I don’t expect anything different.”

  “Okay. And as far as their lies go, they are as effective as your willingness to buy them. In other words, if you have a hard time believing their bullshit, it doesn’t make a damn difference how good they are.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now, when it comes to sex–– if you get there with them, they know their stuff, but there’s a caveat to it as well. They will go through the motions with you, do their best to pull you in and make you believe that it’s real. If you find someone really good at it, he might give you the boyfriend experience, but I wouldn’t expect it if I were you. Not all male escorts are that good. I’m talking good enough so that you buy it. And even when they are skilled, they still need to keep their pleasure and emotions in check. It’s a tricky situation. What would most likely happen–– and I’m going to be very honest here, is that you’d get a mix of sexual prowess and expertise but also a lot of mechanical stuff, and you would feel it. There will be no real emotions to speak of. More like a workout session that involves sex.”

  “I know. I never imagined that it would be anything else.”

  “Good.”

  “How do you know, anyway?”

  “Um...”

  She collects her thoughts for a moment.

  “I had a few friends who worked in the same line of business back in the day.”

  “Friends, friends, or more?”

  “Oh, no. Only friends. They told me how they did it, and that’s how I know.”

  “Thanks for the heads up.”

  “The experience that you’d have would be akin with something that you’d get on the Internet for free. You know... Like the personal porn stuff.”

  I laugh again.

  “Oh, thanks. You really sold me on that.”

  “I’m just saying.”

  “I know that you’re trying to protect me and that’s fine. I’ll check the Internet stuff as well, but I want to meet someone in real life too.”

  “Okay. Fine. I’ll make some phone calls. How soon would you like to book someone?”

  “As soon as possible.”

  “All right. Someone’s in a rush.”

  “To get laid,” I say.

  She chuckles.

  “Please don’t tell James,” I add.

  “I might need to. Otherwise, he’d think that I book someone for myself.”

  “No, he won’t. I mean... I understand if you need to tell him, but please leave the details out.”

  “I will.”

  With that, we end the call.

  I set the phone down, get off the couch, and walk to the window.

  My reflection flickers on the glass.

  It feels as if a different woman looks at me.

  3

  EVE

  The first week of November comes with a hefty bonus at work, a few art exhibitions I excitedly attend, and a birthday party that gives me a good reason to look into my escort options again.

  Rain gives me a few suggestions, that help me narrow down my options to two agencies. One–– my first choice, offers a catalog of men that are available to accompany their clients and show them a good time. It sounds ideal for the party I’m invited to.

  The second option is men who have posted their profiles and photographs on an escort website. After sifting through their pages for an entire evening, I choose to go with the agency.

  I fill out the form, stating the few things that I am looking for in a man, and several choices arrive via email an hour later.

  I go with a thirty-five-year-old man who has a degree in Economics and is proficient in three languages. I like his pictures and the short bio that comes with it. He seems like a down to earth guy, very polite and courteous.

  I book him for Saturday night.

  The days fly by, and the weekend finds me a nervous wreck.

  Saturday evening, I go through several outfits before I settle for a simple black dress–– boring, I know, but my imagination seems to have vanished completely.

  I keep telling myself that I don’t need to go all the way with this man–– because I don’t, and that we’d simply make a great fake couple without raising suspicion.

  A lot of coworkers come to the party, and, I want to show up with a plus one that doesn’t tip anyone off.

  Per my instructions, the man meets me in front of the building where the party takes place.

  He arrives on time and not surprisingly, he looks great. Dressed for the occasion, he fashions a stylish suit, a dress shirt, and designer shoes.

  A warm smile reaches his eyes when our hands connect.

  He looks at me as if we’ve known each other for some time. As if we’re friends.

  The moment feels surreal.

  Our gazes lock as our lips begin to utter words.

  “Eve,” I mutter, mesmerized.

  “Andrew,” he says, my train of thought shattered for a moment.

  “Yes. Andrew. Of course. I know your name,” I say, grinning.

  I selected him after all.

  He gently squeezes my hand as he tries to make me feel more relaxed about the circumstances.

  He does it graciously, being polite and attentive while charming me with ease.

  For a moment, my mind spins a pestering thought.

  Why does it have to be so hard with the other guys?

  It takes a moment before Rain’s words come to me, swiftly reminding me that I paid this man to be nice to me.

  So this whole thing cannot be real.

  Not entirely I’d say, because his eyes, expression, and demeanor, tell me that he likes me a little bit.

  At least, that’s what I like to believe.

  Perhaps his friendly attitude is nothing but experience. Whatever it is, it feels good.

  “Shall we go inside?” he asks, motioning to the lobby.

  “Oh... Yes, sure.”

  The doorman pulls the door open for us as we climb the stairs. We stride past him, and head to the elevator, chatting casually.

  “Just a quick thing...” I say as we find ourselves alone in the elevator. “No one knows that I hired you.”

  Smiling, he tips his chin down.

  “Don’t worry. Nothing will clue them in. I’m discreet and very experienced.”

  “Thank you,” I say, tearing my gaze away from him and secretly studying him in the mirror.

  He looks like the perfect boyfriend, the kind that I’ve had a hard time finding in real life. I guess that was the whole idea when I hired him.

  His clothes exude elegance and good taste, a confident smile glowing on his clean-shaven face.

  He is polite and well-mannered, and his focus stays on me.

  At. All. Times.

  Even now as I glance at his reflection, he observes me secretly.

  “Are you nervous?” he asks with a smooth voice.

  He reads my emotions too.

  That’s something I haven’t seen often in a man before.

  I smile.

  “A little. It’s been a long time since...”

  I stop, wishing I could take my words back. There is no point in telling him the truth––the other reason that I pay him for being that I don’t need to confess.

  A small smile creases her lips.

  “You’re doing fine,” he says as if we’ve been together for some time.

  Casually, he takes my hand as the elevator slows down and smoothly pulls to a stop. The doors slide open, a beautiful lobby sprawling out in front of us.

  A man greets us with a smile, directing us
to the rooftop terrace bar. My hand trembles in the stranger’s grip the moment we walk in.

  For one, the beauty of the surroundings is overwhelming.

  Located about sixty stories above the ground, the place has walls of glass that let in one of the most captivating aerial views of Manhattan.

  And secondly, the idea that this handsome man keeps me company for the evening makes me nervous as hell.

  I spot my colleagues quickly.

  A few of them occupy seats at the bar while others sit around the tables.

  We head to them.

  All jittery, I register the people’s reactions as I start to make the introductions.

  Luckily, everything goes smoothly. I don’t register the slightest glitch.

  Soon, Andrew and I grab our drinks, and take seats, joining the people at the tables.

  The evening is perfect.

  For a couple of hours or so, I forget that a male escort accompanies me, that he is not my friend, and I don’t get to take him home unless I want to.

  As the evening progresses, Andrew gives me his undivided attention and the affection that I crave.

  At first, I melt, and then I realize that the man does his job. He seems sincere, but I cannot fall for that. In order to fool the other guests, he needs to fool me.

  And he does it extraordinarily well. I’m sure he draws a line somewhere if there’s a line.

  Unlike him, I don’t have the skill to turn off my feelings the same way he does.

  There’s not one person in our entourage who doesn’t buy the fact that we are a couple. I get quite a few flattering remarks from men and women, a few of them laced with jealousy.

  It’s almost midnight when the party draws to an end, and people begin to leave. We say goodbye to my co-workers and take the elevator down.

  Silently, we walk across the lobby, our hands locked.

  The moment we set foot on the sidewalk, I stop and spin around.

  He reads my eyes. I’m torn.

  “Is everything okay?” he asks, his voice lined with genuine concern.

  I nod in response.

  “I had a great time,” I finally say, sounding a bit broken.

  I try to plaster a smile on my lips to disperse the gloominess growing in my heart.

  A grin lifts the corners of his lips.

  “Are you sure?”