Love Story Of A Call Girl

"I'll get the drinks. Would you like a glass of red wine? Or perhaps what you're really aching for is a glass of water but you cannot tell me that for some reason?" He asked.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

I looked at him and it was then I knew that he was aware of what I did yesterday with the dilution of my wine. I thought that he had not noticed, being in the troubled state he was in, and furthermore, the lighting was quite dim. He was a very perceptive man, whatever state he was in. I should have learnt that by now.

"We could dispel all needs for theatrics." He said, looking at me, trying to read my expression.

I was caught off-guard. I was thinking of the right answer to give. I breathed in deeply. Again, the scent all around me was saturated with something I could not quite make out.

He was still waiting for me to say something.

"A glass of water, please." I said instead.

He filled a glass of water from the flask and proceeded to hand it to me. His choice mirrored mine. He took the seat opposite mine.

I took a big gulp and then I started to explain myself.

"In this line of work, clients expected you to drink with them. So I always choose red wine because it's supposed to be classy. I wouldn't look the part if I drank water." I said, apologetically.

I felt as silly as silly goes.

He did not smile or mock me when I expected him to do. I wondered when that arrogance would emerge from his personality. It was easier for me to react to his arrogant behaviour than kindness, for the simple fact that I was justified to go on the defensive to salvage my ego. With kindness, I was lost for words. I had to strip my heart b.a.r.e and I could not do it.

He gazed at me kindly, and for a moment I was lost in the sea of the grey wolf's lair. My preference for water was such a trivial issue that it should not have arisen at all. It surely was a non-issue to him. However, the fact that he was making this an issue made me feel like a liar the second time round all because I had sought to conceal it.

I saw that he was trying to understand my motivations, and his attempt to understand me touched my heart. Not many people have tried, and throughout my life, I was always neglected. I hoped that he could see that I had not meant to be anything other than myself. I simply wanted to match his preference for drink and to speed up the process.

He brought me back to the present.

"If you do not like red wine, you could have just said so. You needn't hide that fact. Yesterday I told you that I appreciated honesty. But then I saw you secretly add lots of water to your wine. You thought that I was not looking. You had this guilty look about you." He said, in a calm voice.

I felt like a mischievous schoolgirl playing truant. I looked at my glass of water on the coffee table.

"I'll forgive you this time because you had red wine the first time we met in the restaurant, way before I told you about my principles. I suppose you were just keeping up with this pretence." He said, still in that calm voice.

Because he had spoken so calmly as if he was trying really hard to get through me, I felt disorientated.