Carlene

I just lived through the most intense sexual experience of my life. Not just lived through it, I’d actively demanded it and met Rome at every level.

It’s so damned liberating.

So, this is what it can be like.

It seems I’ve never got to know what my body is capable of giving and receiving. I’m not going to dwell on resenting the past. It’s gone, and I deserve and demand better. Now that I know, I’ll never settle for lackluster sex again.

I just hope Rome hasn’t set the bar too high for me, because if I can’t have this, I think I’d prefer none.

Rome trails a lazy hand over my breast, still covered in red lace.

“How remiss of me, I didn’t even manage to get this off you. I do love your breasts.”

A smile emerges from my lips. I give him another squeeze with my arm around his middle. “I think you got distracted with my backside.”

I roll over and plaster my body down Rome’s. I feel more like snuggling than anything else just now and seeming to understand, he immediately pulls me into his arms, my head resting on his chest.

I realize now, snuggling is probably something I’ve missed the most without even realizing it. At the beginning of our marriage, Phillip and I snuggled a lot. We lost that too. And it makes me sad. There’s just something about being able to cuddle up with another person. It’s something about the connection.

Sensing him looking at me, I glance up; he’s grinning at me like a fool.

“I’ve been known to be an ass man, and Oz, your ass looks insane in that thong. I had no hope of resisting.”

His words always make me feel so good about myself. He gives me confidence and makes me feel beautiful, special.

“I get the feeling you’re an equal opportunity lover when it comes to the female body.”

“Pretty much,” he agrees and takes a sip of the Champagne he poured after he disposed of the condom and cleaned me up. “Here, take a sip.” He holds the glass and helps me balance to take a swallow of the cool, crisp liquid.

Then he offers a chocolate dipped strawberry to me. I can’t resist. I make a production of licking and nipping at his fingers as he lowers it into my mouth. It’s succulent and sweet.

“Look at you, you, sensuous creature. I think I’ve created a monster. The best type though—the sexy, sensuous type.” There’s a big note of pride in his voice.

I smirk up at him and realize I enjoy his playful banter as much as his snuggles; his eyes appear even darker than normal with the shadows in the room.

“You seem to be pretty chuffed with yourself there, Rome.”

“You’ve been an excellent student.”

“I’ve had a very patient and generous teacher.”

“You’d better stop, I’m starting to have fantasies of you bent over my desk, and me with a ruler in my hand, spanking your very fine ass.”

Rome removes the wrapper from another of the chocolates and lowers it down toward my mouth.

“Open for me, baby.”

A shiver tingles through my body. How does he always manage to make the smallest thing so damned sexy? The man should be illegal. I’m surprised I haven’t keeled over from a heart-attack at half the things we’ve done and continue to do.

“Are you eating any of these? Or are you just intent on getting me fat?”

He gives me a cheeky grin. “I’ve eaten a couple. And you don’t need to worry about getting fat while I’m around. I think I’m making sure you get plenty of exercise.” Once again, he trails his fingertips over my breasts. “Besides, the night is still young. Consider this as an intermission while we enjoy some refreshments before I get you to ride my cock. I did promise you that, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

I begin to protest. “Rome...I don’t know if I can.”

“Well, I guess we’ll find out soon, but I’m confident.”

He’s always so confident, and he hasn’t let me down yet, so I’m inclined to believe him when he says I can.

A comfortable silence settles between us for a moment, and his hand strokes through my hair. Being here with Rome like this feels incredibly intimate and connected. I’m hoping he feels the same way too, particularly after what he disclosed to me at dinner.

My mind kicks into gear and starts to wonder about the man who had made such a profound impact on my life in such a short time.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” There’s no hesitation in his answer, and it gives me the courage to ask what I’ve been curious to know almost from the beginning.

“Now you’ve let me in on your little secret about Perfect Gentlemen, can I ask you how you got into this business? Surely, you didn’t wake up one morning and go I want to be a…you know?”

Rome, traces his finger around the shell of my ear, and through a helpless shiver, I wonder if he’s going to answer me or try and divert my attention. Whether he’s regretting confiding in me earlier?

I glance at him through my lashes, and I can see he’s mulling over how much to tell me. “What you’ve suggested—it’s actually not far from the truth. You remember how I told you about the financial crash of 2007/2008?”

“Of course. The GFC.” I may be a country hick, but even I know what the global financial crisis was. The GFC didn’t escape us country folk. “In fact, the GFC was the beginning of the end for Phillip and me. Although, that’s a whole other story.”

His fingers continue to alternate between playing with my hair, my neck, and my ear, and it feels divine.

“I was a financial trader on Wall Street. They were crazy, stupid times. The numbers we dealt in each day were so big, they were insane. To the point, they no longer had any real meaning. They were just numbers. It was heady, and we were all young, cocky and reckless in a lot of ways. Amped up on the adrenaline of the game.” His eyes have kind of glazed over into a far-away look, and his hand stops momentarily.

“To cut a long story short, when the crash happened, I lost my job, and I was personally exposed financially. I’d made some personal investments on what seemed a sure thing. I needed cash quick, and I had no job options in New York anymore. It was a very common story among the traders.

“People like me were being laid off in droves. The company I worked for no longer existed overnight. But I’d been doing some side dealing, and if I couldn’t come up with the cash in a pretty short timeframe, I was going to have to declare bankruptcy. My pride wouldn’t let me do that, and I would have lost my financial trading license. Which, at that time, seemed fundamental for my career.”

I can very well understand how he felt. Back to the wall and no real options. Stubborn pride dictating you don’t give up and somehow you have to claw your way out of the mess. I run my hand over his belly in a move I hope is comforting, trying to let him know I understand his still evident pain.

“So, I cleaned out my apartment in New York, and hopped on a plane for LA. I had a suitcase to my name. I’d sold everything else I had of value to try and keep the wolves from the door for a few weeks. At that stage, I kept hoping the market would turn and adjust.”

I lace my fingers through his other hand in a move of support. “I know something about what you’re saying. Trying to keep the wolves from the door was something I lived with for years. The constant juggle. The incessant worry about how we were going to pay the mortgage, the school fees and the bills. What if the drought kept up? To this day, I have no idea how I did it for so long.”

His eyes connect with mine, and I read surprise before it quickly morphs into a deeper connection—we both understand the worst type of financial struggle.

“Exactly. It’s exhausting and so demoralizing when you feel like you should be able to sort it, but everything just seems to go against you and you can’t.”

“You’re trying to do the right thing, you want to do the right thing, but there’s just no light at the end of the tunnel.”

I nod my understanding. I know exactly the place Rome describes. I’m intimately familiar with the raw terror it can evoke at three am in the morning, when you wake in a cold sweat for the umpteenth night in a row.

“Anyway, I was at my wits end early one morning in LA. I’d been up all night it seemed, couldn’t sleep, so I walked the streets, looking for inspiration or whatever. More likely, I couldn’t stand to be in the four walls of the fleabag motel I was staying in because I couldn’t afford to get an apartment, that’s how broke I was. I was one step away from being homeless. It was such a slap in the face from the life I’d lived in New York.” He shakes his head as if still trying to believe it was possible it had happened to him.

“I stopped at this diner for a coffee and donut. My feet hurt from walking, and I was just done. Seriously, I could have gladly laid down and died just to escape the worry, the exhaustion, and the complete despair I felt. Then this woman walked in and slid into the booth opposite me. She looked as exhausted as I felt, and I knew straight up she was a hooker and had obviously just finished a hard night.

“At first, I thought she was looking for another John. Then she said she thought I looked like I could use a friend. And was she ever right. Looking back, I have no idea where I’d have ended up if she hadn’t have come along that night.”

I watch the emotions play out on his face. I can see just how deeply, he still feels and remembers the desperation, and I know immediately, escaping the helpless feeling is a big part of what drove him and made him the man he is today.

“We got to talking, and I don’t know, the damned coffee was like truth serum. The next thing I knew, I was spilling my guts to her. My whole sad tale of woe. It just came pouring out like a waterfall.”

So many things are starting to make sense to me. What he’s telling me is helping me put together the pieces I’ve been wondering about.

“She just sat there and let me pour it all out. Then she looked at me and asked me this question. ‘Do you own a suit?’ It seemed like a totally bizarre thing to ask me. Of course, I owned a suit, several in fact. I was a New Yorker after all, we lived in suits. Then she asked, ‘do you know how to treat a lady right?’ To that I answered, ‘of course.’ I’d been raised right. I was college educated. I’d live in New York and experienced the finer things in life until very recently. I had no idea where this conversation was going. Then she asked me, ‘are you good in bed?’”

An instant smile grips my face. I know the answer to that one first hand.

“I told her, I’d never had any complaints. Then she said she thought she could help me out. To which I asked her how? That’s when she about floored me. She said to me, ‘ever thought about becoming an escort?’ Well, you can imagine my surprise at her suggestion. I’d never even considered it. But I was so desperate, and I had no time, I was prepared to try just about anything.”

For the next hour, she told me all about the game. She also told me she had a male client who was looking for a man to satisfy his wife.”

I can’t suppress the gasp from coming out of my mouth. What?

“Who does that?”

“Oh, my innocent Oz. It’s far more common than you think in tinsel town, especially. Many couples have arrangements, such as those. Anyway, I spent most of the next twelve months as the male companion to a very wealthy woman.”

“Oh, my God. How on Earth did you cope with that? Was it weird?”

His mouth pulls up in a nonchalant manner. “I played her bodyguard and driver in public. An acceptable image and cover story for a woman in her position. In private, I was her lover, and in return, I cleared my debts and then some. The first few times, with her, it was weird. But she was very good to me, and I genuinely liked her as a person which made it easier. Once I mentally reconciled it all, it was fine. I figured I was being paid to do a job, and I’d better do it to the best of my ability. No different than if I’d still been trading or working whatever other job.”

When he put it like that, it made sense. I’m sure he’s downplaying it, though. It can’t have been easy, surely?

“I also had time on my hands. You can’t exactly spend every waking moment in bed, after all.” He looks down and winks at me with a cheeky grin.

“You sure about that?”

He shrugs it off with an easy smile. “One thing I quickly realized was the woman I worked for was not on her own. There were a whole swag of women in similar circumstances, wanting and needing the same type of service. They wanted class, and they wanted a gentleman. A man who knew how to devote his entire focus to them, rather than what they were getting at home, which essentially amounted to emotional and intimate neglect from their rich husbands.”

I’m still getting my head around it. “Husbands really don’t mind this?” Is the United States so different to Australia? I couldn’t imagine it flying at home, or was it I haven’t been exposed to those circles before?

“A lot women are divorced, but we do have a fair proportion who are married. Some even happily. They just get a kick out of being with another man. I’ve had quite a few husbands watch me fuck their wives. It’s their kink.”

I couldn’t imagine Phillip every agreeing to such a thing? My God, how do you go about having a conversation about taking a paid lover to your husband?

“I guess the business side of me kicked in, and I figured why not? I was already in the game, right? So, I took on more clients, found other guys to fill in the different looks and tastes the clients needed satisfied. And here I am, ten years later, owning arguably the most successful escort agency on the West Coast.”

Then all the pieces “click” together for me. “That’s what you meant by me having the luxury of time, where you didn’t.”

He nods, and his hand is back in my hair.

“Yes, exactly. What I didn’t tell you, but certainly understood first hand. I essentially chose this path because I couldn’t see any other, and I was desperate for cash. My back was so far to the wall, it wasn’t even funny. Once I started, things seemed to be working out, and I guess I just kept going with what was working.”

There was something I’d wondered for days. “Do you regret the decision you made?”

Rome rolls his jaw slowly and thinks about what I’ve asked him. “Yes and no. I’ll be forever thankful Roxie came along that morning and presented me with a solution to my problems. It took me a while, but I managed to work, or if I’m being really crude, fuck my way out of the financial hole I was in. From there, and once I got really going, I’ve made a pretty amazing living and invested wisely. So no, I don’t regret my decision from a financial point of view. The regret comes in around things like relationships and family.”

I can only imagine what his family thought. They’d have to be very understanding to accept his choice of career.

“My parents have basically disowned me. I see them very infrequently. They still don’t get I didn’t make this decision to hurt or shame them or because I’m some sort of sexual deviate. I’ve been accused of all those.”

I don’t miss the hurt in his voice and words, and I wonder how his family could be so cruel. Sure, it wasn’t a career choice that would sit well but he took responsibility for his problems and did what he had to do, to get himself out of a financial hole.

“I made the decision to survive, and this was how I could do it. I took the tools they gave me, my body, my looks, my upbringing and made the most of them. After the first year, I guess the ball kept rolling, and I’m very competitive. I always want to do better. So I did.”

He pauses then, and I know he’s trying to figure out how to break the next bit to me.

“Then, of course, there’s the whole relationship thing. I wouldn’t ever enter a relationship with anyone while I’m still doing this. It’s not fair to her or me. That’s the real penalty you pay in this job.”

I feel incredibly sad for him.

He brushes the hair from my face and looks down at me with what I read as harnessed regret. “Don’t Oz. I think of it like taxes. You don’t want to pay the price but you don’t have a choice.”

We both chuckle a little; no one likes to pay taxes.

“Anything else you want to know?”

There is one thing I want to ask, and I think he knows exactly what it was. In fact, I’m sure. It’s almost as if he’s daring me, challenging me to ask the unsaid question which has been hanging between us for a little while.

I’m feeling brave. Hell, I have a waxed pussy, ridiculously sexy lingerie, and a sky-high pair of Louboutins. Femme Fatale are now my middle names thanks to Rome.

“Do you ever think about giving up?”

He gives me an impressed nod. “I was wondering if you had it in you?”

“I’m starting to realize, there’s many more things I’m capable of than just running a cattle property.” And I give him what I hope, is a sassy wink of my own.

“Touché, my dear. Let me just say, of late, I’ve been considering my end date far more often than I did two years ago.”

And I could read many things into his answer, just as he intended. It could mean anything or nothing.

Don’t go there, Carlene.

What you’re feeling, it’s not real— a beautiful fantasy.

Live in the moment.

His hand is back on my breast. “Now you know my life story, I think intermission is over. What do you say, beautiful? Want to come up here and ride my cock while I suck your nipples?”

It’s hardly a question, when we both know the answer. He’s definitely created a monster, and I’m going to make the most of what’s left of our time together. Getting on the plane home in a few short days, I fear, is going to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.