Chapter Four

Reed

I studied my shoes as I escorted Laurie down to street level and our waiting limousine. I had to, at least for now, to avoid tripping over my own feet and keep my tongue—and other things—in check. One look at her, and I’d been overcome with lust, all the way to max on the dial. There was just something about her. Like she had an internal magnet pulling my steely cock toward her.

I silently thanked my own recklessness for taking on this job, and whatever lucky stars shone down on me for having such a delectable creature as my first date. My mouth watered when I looked at her, the first woman I’d really wanted since Robin left me high and dry. She had full lips perfect for kissing, and the blue dress hugged her lush curves. Tiny and yet padded in all the right places. Totally my type.

I had to admit to being worried ever since reading through Irene Sutton’s P and P manuals. I’d never had to work too hard to get the attention of attractive females and was pretty discriminating on who I escorted around in public, tempting the tabloids and the local entertainment news reporters. I doubted I could fake it with a woman who fell into the ‘coyote’ category. For some reason, I’d never expected that a drop-dead gorgeous girl could want something like this. She could go out to any expensive bar or steakhouse and find a good-looking, successful guy to bang her. Laurie didn’t need to pay.

Regardless, she’d get what she paid for and then some because I’d make damn sure of it. I was already imagining her flat on her back, legs spread, panting for breath as I pounded into her. Her blonde hair flying loose across her full tits, her clear blue eyes misting over with desire and her pouty lips begging and pleading.

“Do you like the theater, Reed?”

“What? Oh, yes. Absolutely.”

My train wreck of thoughts aligned back onto the rails as she spoke. But I didn’t have a clue what she’d said. Like the theater? I’d rather stick my head in a vice and squeeze. But Irene’s warning had been clear. Smoke should be blown firmly up ass. If Laurie liked it, I liked it. If Laurie wanted her pussy licked for an hour, I wanted to lick it. If Laurie wanted me to fuck her in a pile of hundred dollar bills, I said make it rain. My ears had shut down along with the rest of my brain. Sutton’s guidelines said to always agree with your client unless it puts you in physical danger. I found myself in danger all right. More like in serious danger of losing my load if I didn’t smarten up and pay attention.

As we settled into the back of the limo, I opened the envelope and checked the tickets. Something called Wicked. How appropriate. This chick looked wicked in the best kind of way. A sexy expanse of thigh showed from beneath the slit in her skirt that ran from the hem almost to her pussy, and a low-cut neckline revealed two perfect creamy mounds. Despite all that, her face wasn’t painted on like a lot of women I saw every day. No fake lashes or heavy eyeliner. Her complexion looked naturally clear and smooth. I liked that. I liked her. Something about her seemed familiar.

And safe.

“So, tell me about yourself, Laurie. What do you do for a living?”

She turned from the window and fixed her blue gaze on me. Just a look tightened my groin and clenched my stomach. Sitting through the play was going to be the hardest two hours of my life.

“I work in IT,” she said simply. I could understand her desire to keep things superficial.

“Really? Not many women in that field. You must be very good at it.” I realized she couldn’t really ask me the same question since it was obvious what I was doing to make a living. The thinly-veiled come-ons and suggestive innuendo I’d practiced all my life had somehow deserted me. I sucked at small talk. At least I sucked at it with her. I’d always been the one with the upper hand in all male/female interactions. I wanted to impress her, make her like me. She seemed a pretty tough nut to crack, but I wanted to knock it out of the park and impress Irene so she’d keep sending me out on engagements.

“I do all right,” she answered with a light laugh. “You seem very athletic. Do you play any sports in your spare time?”

My stomach lurched. It hadn’t occurred to me until now she might have seen my sorry mug on the front of a newspaper. Had she chosen me as a lark? To make fun of me? My stomach sank. So much for actually enjoying my journey over to the dark side.

“Used to,” I said. “A knee injury a few years ago kinda sidelined me. Do you like sports?”

“Used to,” she said with a grin, clearly mimicking me. She had a sense of humor, and I liked that too. “We must be talking pick-up games at the local gym. I watch football on TV sometimes, but I’m not what you’d call a fan. I used to be a bigger supporter back in high school.”

Shit. There goes that line of conversation. Something I could actually talk about intelligently fell from the shelf. I wondered if she felt as nervous as I did. If that were the case, we’d at least have that in common, and it was a start.

“Listen, can I tell you something?” I asked, trying a different tack by inviting her into my confidence.

“Sure.” Her luminous blues seemed to see right through me, as if she knew my soul’s intentions. I felt emboldened and intimidated at the same time. In that moment, I wanted more than just her smoking hot body. I wanted her. All of her. Inside and out. With a stab of guilt, I remembered that was strictly against agency policy. I couldn’t have Laurie. As if a woman of her caliber would want my sorry ass anyway. I was a poor, pathetic has-been.

“If I seem nervous, it’s because I am. It’s my first gig with Irene’s agency, so I hope you’ll forgive me if I do anything off color. I’m really trying my best.”

Her eyes met mine, seeming to soften. “Well, I won’t tell if you won’t. To be honest, I’ve never used an escort service before, either,” Laurie said, exhaling as though relieved to be rid of her secret. “So, let’s call it even and just enjoy the evening. And whatever comes of it.”

“Deal,” I said, smiling. Her relaxation seemed to rub off on me. I sat a little closer and took a chance on placing an arm casually around her shoulders. It felt right in a way I couldn’t describe. Something familiar floated over me like we’d done this all before. Laurie snuggled into my embrace like a kitten in a mitten. Fitting like a glove.

We walked into the Rochester Civic Center looking like a couple that had been together forever. I hadn’t been much for live musical theater, but with Laurie on my arm it took on a whole new dimension. We had time for a quick cocktail before being ushered to our seats, and I felt the magic of the performance just by watching her reaction as the lights dimmed and the orchestra began to play. She seemed to know all the lyrics too and seeing her delicious lips mouthing all the words turned me on. I pictured where else those lips could play a sweet song.

For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how such a desirable woman could possibly need to hire an escort. Since I couldn’t ask her, it would probably remain one of life’s great mysteries. When the curtain dropped at intermission, we made our way to the lobby. Another drink might loosen the tight reins she seemed to keep on herself.

“That was certainly spectacular,” I said as I brought her glass of wine to the tall table we’d commandeered. I found that I actually had enjoyed the performance and expanding my limited artistic horizons. Would wonders never cease? “That Elphaba sure got a bad rap.”

“Yes,” Laurie agreed. Our fingers grazed as she took my proffered glass, and I sensed her tense up and become rigid. She looked at me over the rim of her wineglass, those gorgeous azure irises piercing me with serious intent. “Outcasts and villains are always the most misunderstood. Just because your looks don’t conform to society’s ideals doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“Nope. But you gotta admit, green skin is a little hard to ignore.” I offered a quick toast with my crystal tumbler of scotch on the rocks, wondering where she was going with this comment. It smacked of insecurity, and I couldn’t imagine her being insecure about anything. She had it all going on. “And green skin looks so… sickly. But I’m sure you’ve never had that problem.”

“What? Green skin?”

“No,” I laughed, kicking myself for my verbal clumsiness. “Being an outcast or a bad person. And personally… I think your looks are ideal, in any society.”

There. Redemption, possibly? The compliment was genuine, and I want you to accept it as such. Please? I’m like a cut dog begging for a bone, so throw me one.

Laurie smiled and sipped her wine, her cheeks flushing a little, whether from my comments or the alcohol. Seemed I’d never get out ahead of it by knowing anything about her private thoughts. She was keeping it close to the vest. So guarded it was almost as if she had something to hide.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I took a swallow of my drink and admired the view. Why would this fantastic woman ever need, or want, to pay money for sex? My curiosity wouldn’t let it go. Maybe I could push just a little and not get fired. Emboldened by a little alcoholic bravery, I set out to assuage my morbid curiosity.

“Forgive me, Laurie, but I have to ask. Why would someone like you need Irene Sutton? I can’t believe you would lack for male attention. You’re beautiful, intelligent, and articulate. There’s probably a long line of men who would be honored to escort you to the theater. Or anything else you might need.”

“Someone like me…” she said, almost as a question, and took a long pause before continuing. “Let’s just say there are times when you don’t want any questions or judgments. You just want business taken care of. I could turn the tables and ask you the same thing. Why would someone like you need to work for the Irene Suttons of the world?”

A swing and a miss. I had no right prying into her personal life. This was a business transaction, as her pointed remarks reminded me, pricking my skin with regret as if they’d been knives. But a compliment lurked in there somewhere. She finds me attractive. I know it, and so does she. Our respective histories were irrelevant. For a second, I considered ditching the second half of the show and going straight to her place. Take care of that business she needed to be done, regardless of the real reason.

“You make a good point. Sometimes you just need what you need.” I lifted my glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

I downed my scotch in one gulp, just as the warning chime sounded. I swallowed, then nearly choked as I saw a figure walk toward me. Dark haired. Sexy. Smiling. No, not smiling. Leering.

“Why, hello, Reed. Fancy meeting you here. I’d never expect to see you at a musical so far from Duluth. It’s just not your… style.”

The face and figure I remembered, but I scoured my memory for a name. “Olivia?” I ventured. Shit. Now wasn’t the best time for this particular blast from the past.

“I knew you wouldn’t forget me. Or all those great times we had,” Olivia said, her lemon drop martini sloshing over the edge of her glass. “What a surprise to see you here. Don’t you have some Peewee team to coach somewhere? Even though you had the face for broadcasting, I can see why the networks wouldn’t want their reputations tainted with your personal issues.”

The sparkle I remembered in her brown eyes had become a booze-induced glow. Her hair lay piled in an elegant up-do, a few loose ringlets draping over her nude shoulders exposed by a strapless, sequined gown. She appeared to still be in the money judging by the outfit and the skill of her glam squad.

“Uh… no.” I clamped my stuttering mouth closed. I hadn’t coached since college and didn’t want to discuss my background in front of Laurie, lest she recognize me and tell me to fuck off before I got paid. The thought of over seven thousand dollars slipping away from me tensed my shoulders. “How long’s it been? Fifteen years? What brings you here, Olivia?” I asked, steering the conversation away from myself.

What did Sutton’s guidelines say about bumping into old lovers while on a date with a new client? Couldn’t remember, but it seemed impolite to have an impromptu high school reunion. I needed to cut this short and get her the hell away from me before my date with Laurie imploded.

“Oh,” Olivia scoffed and waved her free hand. “What’s a few years between friends? Bet we could pick up right where we left off. Like we’d never been apart.”

Her unsteady gaze drifted over Laurie, whose face seemed etched from stone. The Statue of Liberty couldn’t have looked stiffer. Olivia was being annoying but hardly obnoxious enough for Laurie’s tragic reaction. Damage control, Matheson. Now.

“Laurie Arnold, this is Olivia….” I paused, waiting for a prompt. Fuck. Really didn’t recall a last name. I’d had so much pussy between Olivia and now, I’d lost track. Shit. Sometimes after drunken benders, I’d woken up with some strange chick in my bed and hadn’t even known her first name before I ushered her out of my apartment.

“It’s Sheridan now. Olivia Sheridan.” Olivia looked askance and beckoned across to a nearby group of patrons. “Troy,” she snapped. An older, gray-haired gentleman turned and sauntered over at her command. “This is my husband, Troy Sheridan. Of Sheridan and Sloane.”

“Pleasure,” Troy said, extending his hand. I was certain I’d seen his picture before. In the dictionary under ‘distinguished gentleman.’ Wait. Wasn’t Sheridan and Sloane a personal injury law firm? Must have been the yellow pages. Olivia with the dead pussy and the sharp tongue... married to an ambulance chaser. True justice.

“Reed,” I said, returning the handshake. Irene had advised against using true surnames. “This is Laurie.”

Troy started to acknowledge Laurie when Olivia cut him off.

“A new girlfriend so soon after your divorce, Reed?” she interrupted. “I always thought you preferred brunettes to blondes. Or maybe… she’s only blonde on the surface? Carpet and drapes don’t always match. I hope you did a background check to make certain she’s not a back-stabbing bitch like your ex-wife. You can’t afford to lose anything else.”

I froze, horrified at Olivia’s rudeness and broadcasting of some personal factoids I didn’t need advertised. Mercifully, the house lights winked off and on, and the remaining crowd milled around us to re-enter the theater. I turned to grab Laurie’s hand, but she’d backed away from the table.

“Curtain time,” I said, moving toward her, anxious to put her mind at ease and soften the expression on her gorgeous face.

“Yeah. It sure is.” Her voice dripped with utter disgust, and before I could reach her, she bolted. I lost her in the slow-moving river of bodies, but she’d gone in the same direction we’d come in, toward the stairs that led to the main entrance. I hadn’t said anything wrong, so I couldn’t be responsible for what came out of an old high school sweetheart’s drunken mouth.

I cut a swath through the crowd and sprinted up the steps, just in time to see a glimpse of a sexy blue dress skip out the doors along with the money for Jess’s treatments.