Love Story Of A Call Girl

He took the seat opposite me, and looked at the whole of me, saying nothing at all. Then there was a flash in his eyes, as though he had remembered something. He muttered something incomprehensible. Then he rose, saying that he would be right back. I heard him open a door somewhere behind me and slammed it shut.

The slam of the timbered door jolted my ears. Five minutes later, I heard the door open and shut again. My feet were glued to the soft carpeting but I turned to look at him.

"I am sorry I kept you waiting." He said, looking quite apologetic.

I thought it strange that he should apologize for what I considered an acceptable waiting time. Yet the thought never crossed his mind about apologizing when he was questioning me like a bulldozer on the way to his place. He did not bother about my feelings.

"Not at all. You have a lovely suite. I was admiring the furnishings." I said.

In truth, I was hoping we would get started and end it soon.

He sat opposite me again, crossing his legs while looking at my face, at my cleavage and then at my face again. Both his arms rested languidly at the arms of the settee. I took it as a hint to start undressing for him. I had worn a lilac cardigan over my little black dress and it was purposely left unbuttoned. I removed my cardigan and placed it beside me. His gaze was on me all the time. The eyes which had cast its spell on me at the restaurant forced its way in again. I tried not to fumble with my undressing. I started on the flimsy straps of my black dress. I was going to pull down a strap when I felt him touching me on my shoulders.

He pulled the strap back up. Surprised, I could only look at him.

"You're beautiful, I know, but I would rather not." He said.

I just froze and felt like a fool.

"I'm rather tired tonight. If it's alright with you, could I just have the p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e of your company without anything else?" He asked.

"Oh...of course." I said.

I felt absurdly silly. I thought that I knew how to read my clients. Quickly I grabbed my cardigan from the settee and I buttoned myself in, missing an alternate button. The front right of the cardigan was longer than the left. It must have looked such a sight but he did not seem to notice. I felt too embarrassed to re-button them. If he did notice, he said nothing at all, just as he did with my clammy hands.

"I'll get some more wine. You like red, isn't it? Is Pinot Noir alright? I do not have the Cabernet Sauvignon that we had at the restaurant. " He asked.

"Yes, thank you." I replied.

In truth, all red wine had a certain blood-like pungency to them which I disliked. It overwhelmed all other senses. I needed to be in touch with my senses; especially the sense of smell.