Читать книгу For Hire: The Intimate Adventures of a Gigolo - Luke Bradbury - Страница 10

Easter time

Heather was on her third tequila shot. Not that she was counting.

I, on the other hand, was party to her total shift from the after-work businesswoman who’d hired me for a drink only a couple of hours ago, to the increasingly dishevelled—let’s be honest, pissed—creature before me now.

It wasn’t a pretty sight.

‘C’mon Luke, schyou have one too,’ she slurred.

I raised my beer bottle to her. ‘I’m sorted, thanks,’ I smiled broadly.

It was never my job to get plastered, however much a client demanded it. However much it tempted me. Because I needed to remain in control.

But God, it was tempting me now. From our table we had a clear view of the dance floor, and though Heather was likely too far gone to realize, I was very aware that she was the oldest here by a mile.

The point being that she was over twice my age.

Whichever way you looked at it, we appeared a very odd couple indeed.

It hadn’t been an issue when we’d first clapped eyes on each other at the bar where we’d arranged to meet. Both of us had been in relaxed professional mode. She’d clearly accessorized her business suit for the evening, and I’d gone for my smart gear, so we’d sort of complemented each other.

It was supposed to have been a preliminary drink before she made an actual booking. A chance to suss me out. But we’d hit it off so well that we’d moved on to the neighbouring club without much thought.

A choice I was regretting now.

‘I can’t keep up with you, Heather,’ I pointed out. ‘Can you hold back a bit to let me catch up, eh?’

Not that I had any intention of doing so, but I wasn’t quite sure how else to rein in her alcohol intake. If she kept up this rate, I’d soon have to scrape her off the floor where she fell.

If Heather was trying to prove how she’d still got ‘it’, she certainly wasn’t doing herself any favours. At the start of the evening I was certainly aware of the age difference. But she wore it well and the overall effect was one of class.

God, that sure had slipped since.

Heather stopped in her tracks. She fiddled for a second with the empty shot glasses, and reached out and gripped my hand. She looked directly at me.

‘I’m happy to wait for you, Luke,’ she said, speaking very slowly, in that way that drunks had, trying so hard to get the right words out.

Then the familiar intro beats of ‘I just can’t get you out of my head’ flooded the sound system, and Heather was instantly reanimated. ‘I like this one!’ she all but squealed as she jumped up.

She was still gripping my hand and didn’t let go. It wasn’t as if I could refuse to budge. It wasn’t my place to cause any sort of scene. She tugged me on to the dance floor. Like a lamb to the slaughter.

Oh God.

I wasn’t any sort of dancer at the best of times. I shuffled from one foot to the other, very aware of how out of step I was with the other guys. They were at least free to take advantage of the range of babes that filled the floor. I could smell their pity for me as I faced Heather and tried to mirror her moves and give the impression we were a real couple.

We were getting into some sort of rhythm when I spotted Rich, one of my Aussie mate Simon’s old teacher pals, through the crowd. My heart sank. I could only hope he hadn’t noticed me, though I realized that was just wishful thinking. I had the distinct impression that the entire fucking club was watching our strange, mismatched pairing.

I turned my attention back to Heather in front of me. There was a glazed smile across her face. She seemed lost in the music, oblivious to any attention we might be attracting. Maybe that was the better approach. Forget about everyone else and just enjoy the night out.

Yet, even in her drunken state, Heather could sense how feeble my dancing was. She grabbed hold of my wrists.

‘Come on, Luke!’ she jeered, pulling my arms wildly to and fro.

And then she lunged at me, wrapping her arms tight around me and swung me round with her, and I tried not to think about what was happening to me and where I was.

But over Heather’s shoulder I could only watch the dance floor clearing around us. A sea of heads turned towards the two of us, eyes and mouths wide open, laughing like hyenas. Through the flickering lights I could make out pointing fingers, and mobile phones raised and aimed at Heather and me. Taking pictures of us. The fucking centre of attention.

Beneath my floundering feet, I was dying for the ground to open up and swallow the both of us.

The DJ clearly had the same idea as we’d all but emptied the floor. He wound down the Kylie song and phased in some Gorillaz track. The guys started refilling the floor again. I used the opportunity to drag Heather back to our table.

‘No more, Heather,’ I fake-laughed, taking her hand. ‘I’m no dancer. You’ve seen that!’

We flung ourselves down in our chairs again. I had nothing more to lose—I had just died of shame. We were still getting one or two glances from some clubbers, but now we were off the dance floor, the crowd had resumed its shape as if we’d been forgotten about. At least, I hoped so.

It was strange. Feeling so humiliated was weirdly liberating. I suddenly realized that there was simply no point in giving a damn what people thought. Heather and I snogged. When we came up for air again, we turned our attention back to the dance floor. Heather leaned drunkenly against me, and my hand was on her thigh.

It was a relief just to sit like that for a few minutes. Out of the limelight. My sense of shame hadn’t completely disappeared, then.

And then the empty chair beside me was being pulled back from the table. I glanced up and Rich was standing there looking at me.

Not now.

‘It’s Luke, isn’t it? You didn’t go back to Australia with Simon and the others?’

I shook my head mutely as I watched him sit down. My hand was still on Heather’s thigh. She had straightened up but was still drunk.

‘Hello, Rich. This is Heather,’ I introduced.

He looked at her—I could see the surprise in his eyes. He’d been expecting someone younger. Heather and me didn’t match. And that didn’t fit with what Rich had seen of Simon’s mates. I wasn’t sure how I was going to explain what I was doing with a woman her age.

‘Pleased to meet you, Heather,’ he chimed.

Rich reached over to shake the limp hand she offered and, as he reached in front of me, I saw him clock my hand still on her thigh.

Don’t you dare say a fucking thing, Rich.

Rich sat back in his chair, looking uncomfortable, I guessed he had questions he wanted answering. But I wasn’t about to give them to him right now.

To his credit and my eternal thankfulness, he wasn’t about to raise them. He stood up and looked down at me. ‘It was nice bumping into you, Luke. You’ll say “hi” to Simon from me when you’re next in touch?’

I nodded: ‘Sure, will do.’ I raised my BlackBerry in the air. ‘Look, I’ll text you. It’d be nice to catch up,’ I told him, flicking a glance at Heather as I did.

Rich responded with a knowing smile. He knew what I was implying. That when I’d made sure Heather had got home in one piece, and I’d given myself time enough to get tonight’s humiliation out of my system, I’d call. So I could let him in on what the fuck that was all about.

I watched Rich as he left our table and headed towards the exit. Some people had no problem with me being an escort. They could handle it. My mates had been like that. They envied me the girls on tap, and the money. The fact that I knew Rich through Simon told me that Rich could handle it too. To be honest, I was looking forward to getting it off my chest.

I turned my attention back to Heather and squeezed her hand: ‘A friend of a friend,’ I said.

‘Hmm,’ she nodded. ‘He seemed nice.’

She’d grown subdued. It was time to think about calling her a cab. I winced as I recalled our dancing fiasco earlier in the evening. That was the down side of this business, the one that those guys who presumed I had the best job in the world didn’t think about. Sometimes escort work wasn’t all it was made out to be.