Carlene

I won!

How crazy is that?

I’ve never won anything in my life, let alone at a casino.

It’s a first for me. Just like so many others on this trip. I’m smart enough to know my luck is very unlikely to last, and that’s exactly why I decided to leave the table after spinning up the longest odds going. Lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same spot!

In truth, the money is a drop in the ocean compared to the vast wealth I now have, but somehow, this win is sweet. I’ve spent far too many years stressing over how to pay the bills to not appreciate every cent I have and the financial headaches my life is now devoid of.

We settle at a bar just off to the side of the tables. Close enough to entice players to come on over, but also far enough away to allow conversation without the necessity to yell.

The scantily clad waitress delivers a bottle of bubbles and makes a huge show of removing the cork, to the point there’s a little volcano action, as the white froth spews forth over the neck of the bottle.

I don’t miss the slight shake the girl gave the bottle for a little more flare—so Vegas!

“Whoops!” she exclaims with a giggle and a look toward Rome.

She pours the golden liquid I’ve become so fond of into both of the flutes and makes her departure with a long, reluctant look at Rome.

Unable to restrain myself, I just have at it. “Surely, that must get old, eventually.”

“What? Enjoying Champagne with a beautiful woman or getting suggestive looks from the wait staff?”

“At least to your credit, you’re not denying the later.”

He brushes it off nonchalantly. “That would just make me a liar. She’s just trying to make a living. These girls survive on tips.”

“I guess. I surely know what the trying to make a living part is like. The tips, that’s foreign to me.”

“Can’t blame a girl for using what she has. And now back to the former of my comment—Champagne with a beautiful woman.”

Rome lifts his glass to me in salute. “To a beautiful, charming woman with a great sense of humor and adventure. May we get to enjoy many more nights like this and bottles of bubbles.”

I raise my glass, clink it with his, and go along with the sentiment. I want to believe him so badly. The likelihood of what he said has about the same odds as the win I’ve just had. Lightning doesn’t strike twice.

“To many more nights like this,” I return his toast.

His face settles into a happy and contented look. Does he actually believe his words? Does he truthfully want what he said in the toast?

“What are you thinking about over there, Oz? You’ve just cleaned up at the tables, and you look like you’re in the middle of trying to solve some crazy puzzle. Tonight’s supposed to be fun, remember.”

Damn him for being so astute.

I can hardly tell him the truth.

“Guess I’m just thinking of having to head home soon, and it makes me a little sad.”

He moves closer to me and wraps his arm around my shoulders. The benefits of a curved booth once again, become evident.

“You going to miss me, Oz?” Rather than lighthearted like I might have expected, his voice holds much more intensity. My answer really means something to him. His dark eyes bore into me, giving me an indication of just how much.

I don’t hesitate and go straight at him with the truth. “I’ll miss you, Rome. No two ways about it.”

He leans in even closer and whispers in my ear, “Stay.”

Stay.

One little word. So tempting, but I can’t. I’ll never know if what is between us is real or just some holiday fantasy.

I laugh it off even though every jovial sound is burning my belly. “You’d get sick of me real quick. Besides, my kids could go off the rails, plus my cat has probably disowned me.”

I don’t even own a cat. He nuzzles my neck with his lips. “I wouldn’t get sick of you. Your kids are adults, and I didn’t know you had a cat, but I hear they can be fickle.”

“I hear that too.”

He gives me a knowing look at my ruse. “Stay,” he prompts again.

“I can’t afford your rates. I’d be back in the poor house before I knew where I was.” I keep my vice lighthearted and playful, longing for there to be a way but knowing better.

I feel him stiffen beside me.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” He doesn’t manage to keep the hurt from his voice.

“We’ve been through this, Rome. Leave it. We’re supposed to be having a great night. Besides, I just won over three grand. Let’s do something I never do.”

“What’s that, Oz?” He’s trying to brush off my rejection, but his tone is stilted.

“Let’s frivolously spend it.”

“And you just said you were worried about being poor again.”

“Bad choice of words on my part. I’ve never been poor, just in severe financial duress. We both know there’s a difference.”

He nods in agreement. “So how would you suggest we spend the cash?”

I think for a second. “How about a ridiculously expensive dinner, a show, and maybe some dancing.”

Rome doesn’t miss a beat. He takes my hand in his and brings it to his mouth, kissing my wrist.

A shiver runs straight down my spine and satisfaction flares in his eyes.

“Done.” He stands and pulls me with him. “I know just the place.”

Rome has his game face on again, and I hope our night is firmly back on track. My remaining time with Rome is now best measured in hours, and I want every one of them to matter.

Rome

I’ve gone and done it again! Why do I keep pushing her? I want something I can’t have, and she’s made it more than clear—twice.

I just don’t believe her. I know she’s feeling what I am. She has to be.

Carlene isn’t a tease, and there’s nothing false about her. Even if her words are telling me one thing, her eyes, touch and manner are telling me something totally different.

There’s one thing I know in life, and that’s women. I’d bet the house she feels the same way about me—the way I’m feeling about her.

Just to Carlene’s order, dinner is a crazy, swanky affair. Amazing food, fantastic wine, and even better company. We make it a great time even if I have the feeling my guts are being ripped apart the entire time.

I made a quick call to a contact and have managed to snag some front row tickets to Celine Dion. This earns me even more points, but I know it wouldn’t be enough to deliver what I want—Carlene. She’s not the type to be swayed by flash or extravagance.

We are at the dancing part of the night, and I’m so looking forward to having her in my arms.

I choose the club carefully. It’s more a high-end bar offering dancing, rather than a dance club. I want the dancing to be intimate, a prelude to what will happen after we leave, rather than some drunken orgy of crazy— intermingled with strobing lights and several hundred other sweaty bodies fighting for a square foot of dance floor.

A hostess, who I recognize from a few previous visits, escorts us to a quiet table in the VIP section. It pays to tip well, and she remembers me.

“Good Evening, Rome, so good to see you here visiting us again.”

“Thanks, Divina, for fitting us in at short notice, it’s good to be back.”

She gives me a look that says, “I thought you were done.” And I hope the muted light and Carlene being on my other side will prevent her from seeing the look. I don’t need more tricky conversations tonight.

Divina shows us to our seats and has a bottle of Champagne sent over. We’ve only been sitting for a few moments when the DJ starts to play a song Carlene looks excited about.

“Want to dance?”

She nods excitedly.

I offer her my hand across the table, and together we stand and move to the small dance floor where about half a dozen other couples are gently swaying together. This club is perfect—intimate and sexy.

“I don’t know the name of this song but I really like it. I’m hopeless with song names.”

“’Sexual healing,’ Marvin Gay.” I pull her into my arms as I breathe the words into her throat.

She lets out a tinkling laugh. “How appropriate!”

The thing about Carlene is, she doesn’t try to hide who she is or pretend to be someone she isn’t.

Our bodies move together just as easily on the dance floor as they do in the bedroom. We’re in sync and have real chemistry. I know it’s real with her. I don’t have to think or try. I just do what comes naturally to me.

The song draws to a close and rolls into Rod Stewart’s “Tonight’s the Night,” another oldie but a goodie for exactly what I have in mind.

Rod croons about tonight being the night, and how he loves her, how she should let him come inside and nothing is going to stop them now.

Can the same apply to us?

With Carlene in my arms, her head resting lightly on my chest, her breasts pressed firmly to me, I can believe it. It could be us. It can be true

We move together as the song plays out. I can’t resist sliding the hand I have resting on her waist lower to her perfect backside and giving it a long squeeze. I grind my hips into her in case she’s confused about just how much I enjoy having her in my arms.

One of the first things a good escort learns is to be able to turn on and off an erection at will. All that control flew out the window when I met Carlene. She’s broken all the rules for me and devastated all my control. She’s special to me in ways other women will never measure up to.

“Let me know when you’ve had enough dancing,” I whisper into her hair.

“Why? Got something in mind?” She wiggles her hips suggestively into mine. I’ve become way more careful in underwear selection over the last days. I don’t mind in the least giving Carlene a show, but I’m not one to make others uncomfortable, and we are fast approaching that territory.

“I’ve got lots of things in mind. Like striping you naked and making long, slow love to you.”

She shifts in my arms, and her head tilts back. “Long slow love,” she repeats.

Yeah. The words are as foreign to me as they sound from my lips. I meant it, though.

“That’s exactly right, Oz. I want to take you back to the suite and make love to you. Please say yes.”

Fucking is not what I’m feeling at all. It has to be special.

“Yes,” she breaths against my neck, and I can barely contain the excitement racing through me. I want her in a way I can’t remember wanting another woman.

Tonight, will be different. If she won’t listen to the words I want to say, then maybe she’ll feel them. Surely, her body will know the difference?

The song ends, and I strategically angle her in front of me as we make our way from the dance floor. We stop briefly at the table to collect her purse and settle the bill.

At the concierge area of the hotel, I slip the guy at the desk a wad of cash to get us a car in a big hurry. Our hotel is way too far to walk right now, but I don’t want to wait for anything.

With a light, lingering kiss to her lips, I try to hang onto the mood from the club. I want desperately to keep it going. Carlene trails her hand down my chest, and once again, I wish we were in our suite and both naked.

I’m about to lower my head for another kiss, when someone catches my attention off to the side.

“Rome, is that you?”

Fuck!

My biggest fear springs forth and is about to play out— every escort’s worst nightmare.

I’ve run into a previous client while I’m with somebody who means more to me than the job. And knowing the previous client, there’s nowhere for this to go but ugly.

It’s like watching an accident about to happen. My past and my future are about to collide, and it’s going to be a disaster.

The victim is going to be my heart.