Love Story Of A Call Girl

"Ah, Lila, I did not mean you any offence. I am merely bem.o.a.ning my sorry, pathetic state. You are the smart one. You are a high society call girl. You pick and choose your clients." He said.

I saw no link to his pathetic state and to me being the smart one. Unless of course, he likened his sorry, pathetic state to a lack of intelligence.

Ironically I thought only the smart ones were the pathetic ones simply because they were smart enough to give themselves every reason to be pathetic.

"I am here with you, and I have chosen to be with you tonight. I accept you as you are, in this state you are in." I said instead.

"Thank you for tonight, Lila. I do appreciate your company. From the bottom of my heart." He said.

When I was still finding my sensible words for the situation, he breathed in deeply and his deep-set, wolfish eyes closed. His forehead furrowed and his eyes looked too tightly shut to be really comfortable.

I had no words. Instead I felt an urge to talk to him again to get him to do what I wanted. I felt it would help him sleep better.

"If you like, you can rest your head on my l.a.p while I sit still here." I said.

At least, I found this soothing when I was a child. I remembered my mother soothing me to sleep like this while she mended our tattered clothes. It was a miracle that the sharp needles never fell upon my head, or my eyes for that matter.

"Are you sure you are not disgusted by the thought of a grown man laying his head on your lap?" He asked.

I shook my head. Had he known what I had been through, this was of no disgust at all. I was not easily disgusted.

His eyelids fluttered open and he looked at me, as if still seeking approval. When he sensed it; without speaking, he bridged the minuscule distance between us and placed his head on my l.a.p.

"You're as good as your agency says you are. You are worth the amount I paid, even if it means I'll go bankrupt soon." He whispered, barely facing me just before he lay on my l.a.p.

"Hush now, close your eyes. I'll make sure you don't have nightmares." I said.

"How can you be sure I don't?" He asked, arching his head to look at me.

"If I see your forehead furrowed in, your eyes shut too tight and your body twitching, I will wake you up." I said.

"What an original way to prevent nightmares." He said, as a matter of fact, but nodding his head.

"Thank you, my..." He said, before biting his lip.

"I'm Lila." I said.

He must have more than just tired to have forgotten my name. He was clearly troubled by the nightmares.

"Lila, thank you." He said on his second attempt, and then he raised his slender fingers to c.a.r.e.s.s my face.

His long, practical fingers brushed my cheeks and then my lips. I took his hand in mine and squeezed it tight. I gave him a reassuring smile.

"Tonight you shall sleep better. I promise." I said.

I switched off the night lamp beside the bed and my gaze concentrated on this fragile man who lay on my l.a.p like a child.