Page 52 of Mayfair Madame
“No, I’ve only been here five years. Again, thanks to Rupert. We met at a restaurant. He had an important client and his wife to entertain. He’d asked for someone intelligent and classy, beautiful and not likely to embarrass him. I fit the bill in most areas, although ply me with enough alcohol and I might just break into the Macarena.”
She giggled. “I’d like to see that.”
“A couple more whiskeys, and I might do that. Why Rupert didn’t ask one of his friends, I didn’t know. Surely, a man like him had many friends, women who would be more than happy to be on his arm, but he later told me he thought they were vacuous and only wanted him for his money. He was a very cynical man, but then it served him well in business.”
“But he owns this building, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, and many others in London. Not quite as many as the Duke of Westminster, but not far off. I live here because of him and his generosity.”
“So, he’s your sugar daddy?” If I hadn’t seen the small smile flit across her face, I might have thought she was serious, but there was truth in the statement.
I laughed. I’d never thought of him in that sense of the word at first, but it was true. He no longer paid for my company. I gave it freely, and in return, he gave me all this.
“I guess so, but not in the true sense of the word. We have no sexual relationship. We’re good friends, and he looks after me. He knows my background, knows where I came from. I’m lucky he agreed to take me under his wing. He didn’t have to do that.
“As for my agency, I could have done anything when I moved to London, but it irked me that escort workers were looked down on as cheap hookers. You’d be surprised by the number of men and women happy to pay, and where there’s a need, you will always get people like us. Most of us are intelligent people who actually enjoy the job we do.”
“I guess I’ve always wondered how you’d get into a job like this and why you’d stay doing it. I mean, surely there are other options available.”
“Like working in an office eight hours or more a day. Working in a shop, on your feet for hours. I’m not saying those are poor jobs to do, but they don’t suit everyone. I do this job because I enjoy it, and I make a lot of money doing it, but also, I’m helping people like Rupert, and to a certain extent, Clement, who, for whatever reason, don’t have a partner, don’t have the confidence to find one, so they pay.”
She nodded, a pensive look on her face. “I never thought about it like that, and someone has to do it.”
I observed her face as she assimilated the information I’d given her. Sure, I’d still not really explained how I ended up here, but it was enough for now.
“Prostitution in any form has been around since the dawn of time. Some say it’s the oldest profession, and I agree with that.”
Before we could talk further, the buzzer sounded.
“That’ll be the food.”
I hopped off the sofa and wrapped the robe tighter around me. I gave the pizza guy a hefty tip and set the boxes on the table.
“Let’s eat.” We couldn’t drink whisky all night, as much as I wanted to lose myself in my feelings tonight.
Water seemed more apt, and I grabbed us both a chilled bottle from the fridge.
She opened the box and inhaled. “Fuck, Naomi. This smells and looks amazing.”
“They are good. I don’t have pizza often but then wonder why I don’t when I buy it. Does that make any sense? I feel like I’m rambling.”
“It makes perfect sense.” I watched enraptured as she fed a piece into her mouth. Her shoulders sagged, and an obscene groan left her mouth. “Good?”
“Fuck, I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
She almost had today, but I said nothing. We’d had enough upset for the day. I didn’t need to bring it up again.
We ate in silence. I hadn’t realised how hungry I was. When I looked over at Ellie, she’d almost finished hers.
Was it weird to think we could do this every day? I’d known her a week, yet here I was planning a future for us together. Stranger things had happened, and my life had been anything but scripted, always taking a turn.
“So, when can we meet up again?” I took a large bite of pizza, and a drizzle of oil dripped down my chin.
“Here, you’ve got a little something just here.” She reached across the table and swiped at it with her thumb. She pressed it to my lips. I flicked out my tongue and licked the oily liquid.
“Sometimes, I don’t think you know what you’re doing to me. Then at other times, like now, you know exactly what you’re doing.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.” But the look on her face was one of mischief, a sly smile gracing her beautiful face.
