Rome

Last night was incredible, even with me pouring out my life story. In fact, I struggle to remember a night I’ve enjoyed more. As terrible as it sounds, I’ve organized dates like that before—nothing compared, though. Something I’ve done before with countless other women, doesn’t mean squat to me anymore. With Carlene, it’s different. This tells me a lot.

In my line of work, I physically give my body to a woman and a little part of my soul goes right along with it each time I romance a lady. If I can’t give a little part of my soul, then the connection isn’t there. And that’s what being the best escort is about—making a real connection with a woman. What I have with Carlene feels like so much more, though.

It’s who I shared the evening with—she’s special to me.

It’s the time and place I’ve reached in my life.

It’s Carlene.

And I have no idea what to really do about it. I have nothing to offer her while my life is like this. Plus, does she really want something from me other than these two weeks?

These questions and thoughts keep bouncing around in my head as we spend the next day enjoying private tastings and wine tours in Napa Valley.

Carlene is developing quite a taste for the local reds and has selected several she’s having shipped back to Australia.

And doesn’t the simple action of sending stuff home, just bring it all back to me, harder. She’s going back to Australia in a few short days. I’ll probably never see her again.

“Rome, you have to try this. It’s so good.” She raises her glass at me. Her eyes are a little glazed. It’s getting to the end of a long day sampling the best wines Napa has to offer. I’ve diligently been doing my best to keep her hydrated with water between tastings. The reality though, is on days like this, the buzz often catches up to you regardless how carefully you try to avoid being drunk. She isn’t drunk, just a little buzzed, and I wonder if she’s ever been like this before.

Her spirits are buoyant and so alive. The haunted and shut off look she sported when she arrived is gone. In its place is the face of a confident and carefree woman. Carlene now looks as if she’s ready to greet the world with open arms and ready to meet every challenge and sample every delight life has to offer.

I’ve done this for her. We’ve evoked the change together.

Regardless what happens, I know she’ll leave this experience a richer and more awake person. I’ll always have the gift of knowing I helped her become the person she now is.

I sip at the smooth red she offers expectantly.

“It’s excellent.”

“I know,” she gushes. “Do you think I should get some of this?”

“Totally up to you. I think you’ve got six cases so far. If you want it and you think you’ll drink it, then get it.”

I can see her thinking it over.

“Ah, stuff it! I’m going to get a case of it. I’ll never remember the name of it otherwise, and if I don’t drink it, at least it will help fill up my wine rack. The kids will just have to help me drink it.”

The tipsy edge is making her a little more impulsive. It looks good on her. Another case of wine is certainly not going to break her financially. I’ve been amazed at how tight a rein she’s kept on her spending over the time we’ve been together.

She’s never skimped on experiences, food or drink, but unlike many women I host, she rarely buys herself anything. Her children are going to do okay out of her trip, but not so much for herself.

“Good plan.”

A slow smile holds mischief, and a little regret slips across her face. “It would be so much better if I could drink it with you.”

“It’s not outside the realms of possibility, you know. I’m not averse to making international trips to visit ladies.”

Her face falls, and her shoulders stiffen. I could kick myself for my poor choice of words. Why did I mention other women? I know the answer. I’m so used to being in “work mode,” gently suggesting the next encounter. I’m off my game, because I’m emotionally all over the place. Nothing feels normal, and my head and heart are at war.

“I’ll keep it in mind. You never know.”

She takes another sip of the wine and turns her attention back to the sommelier and starts to discuss the next wine.

I can’t focus on what he’s saying. The characteristics he’s explaining might as well have been blah, blah, blah…and I’m normally super good at managing these sort of scenarios. Today, I suck at my job. I just can’t get my head around where I should be.

I want her—as mine, for real.

Do I try to make it happen? Or should I just let things ride for the moment?

Will she believe me?

I watch her take a sip of the new wine, and I know right away, she doesn’t like it. Her body language gives her away.

The shadows are falling outside, and I figure this will be our last vineyard of the afternoon. We have a long drive tomorrow from Napa to Las Vegas, so we probably need an early night. I don’t mind driving at all. Although tomorrow will be our longest straight through drive if we decide not to stop anywhere along the way.

The sommelier seems to have come to the end of his spiel, and I see Oz press a crisp bill into his hand before I can react. That’s my job. Which only highlights more how distracted I am.

She’s picked up the American ways now, it seems.

“Ready to go?” She nods and steps down from her stool at the tasting table.

I take her hand in mine in an attempt to establish some form of connection between us again, and I give her what I hope is a warm smile. I know she could be my future and I have no idea how to manage it.

There are no two ways about it—Carlene has me tied up in knots.

We walk out to the car in silence, and I open her door and helped her in.

“What would you like to do for dinner?” I ask.

She thinks for no more than a couple of seconds. “You know what I’d really like to do?” There’s a glitter in her eyes.

“What?”

“I’d like a casual night. If I was at home, I’d say let’s go to the pub and have a counter meal.”

I don’t need to be an Aussie to figure that one out.

“Would a sports bar do the job? I know a good one just up from the hotel. They do great steaks, burgers, and ribs. How does that sound.”

“Perfect. As long as I can have a cold beer. I’m about done with wine for the day, I think.”

I glance across at her, a little surprised. I didn’t think she would want a beer, but if the lady wants a beer, then a beer she will get.

“There’s not a sports bar I know in the whole of the United States that doesn’t have at least a few beers on tap and a pretty decent selection of bottled, as well. I think you’re safe in getting your beer, Oz.”

“Excellent. Let’s go, then.”

“Done.”

A relaxing, easy night sounds divine.

Carlene

The sports bar is great and much more my usual pace than some of the fancy restaurants we’ve been dining in. I’m a country girl at heart, and quite honestly, I’m not fussy when it comes to food.

As long as there is enough of it and it’s reasonably tasty, I’m happy.

I pick up the last rib on my plate and pull the succulent meat from it before licking my fingers in appreciation.

Rome sends me a pleased look. I’m relieved to see, he’s more relaxed than he was earlier this afternoon. Something has been off with him today, and I wonder if what’s plaguing him is the calls he’s received of late.

At least I understand now, and I’m not worried he has a sick relative or something at home. He has needed to take calls because he’s running his business. Business pressure, I can easily understand and accept. I’m not the sort of person to need a person’s undivided attention twenty-four seven. I’m fine with him taking those calls if it helps alleviate him worrying unnecessarily about something work related.

“So, so good. I could eat these ribs again tomorrow night.”

“I have no doubt about it. You really enjoyed those ribs. In fact, I think it’s the meal you’ve enjoyed the most our whole trip.”

I look at him curiously. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you’re relaxed and seem really content with the food. Plus, you’ve eaten every last bit of food, sucked the bones clean, and licked your fingers. Dead giveaway!”

I glance at my plate, then slowly look back up at him in a teasing way. Maybe the beer on top of the wine is going to my head. “It’s the bones, isn’t it? That’s what gave me away. I couldn’t resist.”

“Nor should you. You’re supposed to be doing what you want and enjoying everything.”

We look at each other across the table of the booth on the window where we sit. The bar isn’t very busy, and a country song plays in the background.

I’m trying to read what he’s thinking. His eyes are so intense. It’s as if he’s trying to see into my soul. What is he searching for? Am I even reading his look accurately? I have drunk quite a bit today, although I don’t feel tipsy. Relaxed more than anything, but now, a little on edge with Rome looking at me like this.

He doesn’t break contact with my eyes.

The only thing which changes is the air shifting around us. It’s as if everything else in the bar dulls into insignificance. There’s just Rome and me.

In the time we’ve been together, I’d never seen Rome look so serious or grave. A moment ago, he appeared relaxed, and now, he’s intense. Whatever he’s about to tell me isn’t easy for him to voice, of this, I’m certain

He pushes our plates to the edge of the table and moves the beers toward the wall, then reaches for my hands. His fingers are cool to the touch. Probably from hanging on to the chilled glass beer bottle.

His eyes glance down for a long moment, and I see him steady himself before he looks up and his eyes snare mine once again.

“I’m about to break all the rules here, Carlene. Every rule I’ve lived by for the last ten years.” His voice is low and raspy. It’s filled with an emotion and a warning I haven’t heard from him before.

My body stiffens in response to the anxiety I feel running from his body, through his fingers to mine. I sense what he’s going to tell me, and I’m not sure I’m ready to hear it. If I’m guessing correctly, it’s the next obvious progression from him opening up last night and telling me about his past.

Part of me wants the words. I want to hear them—so much. I want to be the one who’s different to him. I want to be his unicorn.

But my heart and girlish fantasies are doing the talking.

Crazy talk.

Common sense and maturity tell me, some things are better left unsaid. Left to the imagination. Left to mystery.

I can’t do it to him.

I can’t give him the hope, because I know to my very essence, I don’t fit into his world. Tonight is a perfect example. I’m pubs and finger food. Rome is fine dining and Champagne.

I’m nothing more than a temporary interloper in fantasyland.

We’ve said from the beginning, our time together is about living in the moment. Nothing more, nothing less.

Those lines have been blurred over the last couple of days. We both know it. But somehow, if the words aren’t said, we’ll be okay. The fragile bubble we live in won’t burst. Stretched, maybe, but not broken.

I couldn’t stand for it to be broken.

I pull my hand from his, press my index finger across his lips and silence him.

“Don’t say the words. Don’t make something more of what can never be.”

Pain slashes thorough his eyes, and I feel it deep in my belly, too. We can’t deal on false hope or promises.

“You’ve said from the beginning to live in the moment. Do that for me. For us. That’s all this is ever supposed to be, Rome. Our worlds are too different.”

Rome is USA. I’m Oz.

This is a holiday of a lifetime.

Not my real life.

These are beautiful memories for me to treasure forever.

It can never be.

I’m starting over and have to find me first.

Besides, I could never share him with his job, and he would never ask me to.

Our time together is as it is supposed to be. An amazing fantasy morphing into my reality for a very short time. Just like Rome has said, the fantasy gets fulfilled, then you move on.

We would too—apart.

Friends at best, fond memories at worst.

The way it’s supposed to be.

The hurt and disappointment is there for me to see. I know exactly what it is, because I’m feeling it too. My throat constricts as I take a sip of beer.

“Is that what you want?” he whispers, his face scarcely inches from mine.

“Don’t ask me that, Rome. It can never be. I’m going to go home soon, and you’ll go back to your day to day life.”

He nods slowly, resignedly.

I take his hand in mine again.

“Please, Rome, don’t ruin it. Let’s enjoy the rest of our time together. And when it comes to the end, you’ll kiss me goodbye, I’ll get on the plane, and maybe we’ll exchange an email every now and then. You’ll wish me well, and I’ll know you truly mean it. I’ll do the same for you.”

My throat starts to get difficult to control, and the tears welling in my eyes are a hairsbreadth from spilling over. I won’t let them fall. I won’t break. I won’t be a blubbering mess.

I’m not that woman.

Strong I am, and strong I will be.

I will be strong enough for both of us and do what needs to be done.

“You’re right.” His voice acknowledges his return to reality, and it’s one of the most painful admissions I’ve ever heard.

Ever had to accept, even if I’m the one who asked for exactly that.

It’s for the best. We could never work, and it would be stupid to try and make it happen. More than likely, we’d only wreck whatever is there between us— if in fact, it’s real in the first place.

The server picks that moment to collect our dirty plates, and I’ve never been so glad to be interrupted.

A few moments more with this pain in my belly, and I might well not be strong enough to do what needs to be done.

Rome

I stare at the decorative number plate on the wall above her head. My heart and hopes have been whisked away right along with our dirty plates. The only thing remaining is her rejection of what I’ve been trying to tell her.

Is it really what she wants?

It doesn’t matter. Carlene’s the client, and what she’s asked for, I have to respect. Maybe she doesn’t want another relationship? Maybe having a paid man is enough for her?

She’s never asked me for more, and it burns deep in my gut. More times than I can count, I’ve refuted pleas of a client wanting more. Each and every time, I’ve politely refused and passed them off to another one of the guys if they’d become too demanding.

It’s another rule.

Don’t let the clients get too clingy, ask or assume more than what happens within the bounds of the arrangement. It keeps everybody safe. Feelings from getting hurt.

Then why do I feel like I’m being denied something I need to the depths of my soul?

My head finally kicks in as I take a sip of beer from the bottle.

She’s right to do what she did.

I have no business thinking I could ever have a real meaningful relationship with a woman.

I made my decision almost a decade ago.

I am an escort.

People say you’re not what your job is. Maybe that’s true, but not when you’re an escort.

The job defines me and my life.

No room for any decent woman.

With Carlene, I thought, I’d hoped, just maybe—I’m wrong.

It’s not to be.

We were not to be.

Back to the job, idiot.

Do what you’re paid to do and stop wishing for what could never be.

“We should probably get a good night’s sleep,” she suggests and starts to gather her purse and make a move from the booth.

How could she seem so composed when I’m dying inside right beside her? Does she not feel it?

Pull it together and do your job—moron.

Enjoy what’s left of our time together. It’s all I’m going to get.

I get up and join her at the end of the booth and signal to the server we’re ready to leave.

“I’m just going to visit the bathroom while you take care of the account.”

I watch her walk away from me as I move to the station to pay. My heart hurts, and my belly feels emptier than I can ever remember, even though I’ve just worked my way through a giant burger.

The brightly colored décor suddenly seems dull, as if someone has turned down the lights.

You’ll get over it, Rome. You’ve just been out of the front line for too long. I try to convince myself, only it isn’t really working. It doesn’t seem like that at all. I’m lying to myself. I truly fear for the first time in years, I’m going to get my heart broken and there isn’t a damned thing I can do about it.

How ironic, the perfect ladies’ man, doesn’t get the lady.

I pay the server and move to the entrance of the bar. Carlene joins me a few moments later and looks far more composed than I hoped.

Is this not affecting her at all?

Maybe she genuinely doesn’t feel the same way about me?

I place my arm around her waist and walk her out. If all I have are the next few days, then I’m going to make the most of every second. I’m going to imprint the feel of her body against mine in my brain, so I can recall it at will when she’s gone and just a memory.

Call me stupid. I probably am. It’s just what I want, what I need from her right now.

I’ll deal with my battered heart later.

Once we’re outside and heading back to the hotel, she places her arm around my waist. “You’ve given me so many firsts, Rome. I hope you’ll continue to do so. I hope you understand where I’m coming from.” She squeezes me to get my full attention until I have to look directly into her eyes and I find it so hard to hold the contact. I don’t want her to see the truth. “I hope things won’t be weird between us now. It’s not what I want. I want to keep going with the amazing time we’ve had. Enjoyed to the brim.”

Time stills between us, and all the thoughts and feelings I’ve been fighting swirl around in my head. I want to argue we can never go back, because I want to go forward with her, only how we did it would be different.

It would be real.

We’d be together as a couple, not pretend.

Then reality whispers in my ear again.

Client Rome, client.

What choice do I have?

There’s a frustration I know I have no business feeling raging in my gut, but there’s nothing I can do about it.

The words nearly chock me. “Of course, nothing changes. We go on. We stay in the moment.”

She gives me a smile of relief. “I knew you’d understand.”

I do.

Doesn’t mean I agree or like it.

My heart doesn’t matter in this. I have a service to provide and a contract to honor.

I chose my bed long ago and now I have to lie in it.

It’s the first time I truly regret the choice I made all those years ago.

I am an escort.

I’m never going to get the girl in the end.

It isn’t how it works in this game.

It’s nothing more than just a stupid dream.

A stupid fairytale, and we all know they never come true.