“What’s his name?”
“Claud.”
“Is he cute?”
“I didn’t think so at first, but the more time we spend together, the more attractive he becomes to me.”
She takes out her phone and thumbs through her photos until she finds a picture of them together. “What do you think of him? Honest truth.”
I wouldn’t classify him as good-looking, but I definitely see some sexy qualities about him. “He has pretty eyes.”
“He does, right?”
“I like his facial scruff.”
“Me too. I like the way it feels.”
“How old is he?”
“Forty-four.”
Yikes. Twice her age. “You’re okay with him being twenty-two years older than you?”
“Aye, I actually love that he’s in his forties. I’ve always had a thing for older men.”
“Rachel, have you landed your whale?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” She smiles and shrugs. “I’m the only inamorata that he sees. And our dates have become regular. We see each other at least four times a week. I haven’t been out with another client in over a month because he books me out weeks in advance.”
“Sounds as though he has a thing for you too.”
“I think he does.”
“Was the sex good?”
Rachel bites her bottom lip and rolls her eyes. “It was really good. He was very… attentive, which was truly surprising. I expected it to be all about his wants and needs.”
Rachel’s client sounds thoughtful and considerate. Sounds like someone that I know. I suppose that it makes sense. A selfless person is more likely to be a giving lover.
Hmm. That could definitely sweeten Hutch’s offer. Who knows? Maybe it could take it from tempting to irresistible.
6
Maxwell Hutcheson
I’ve hardly slept since meeting Lou. I’m fine during the day while I’m busy at work, but she invades my head when I’m home, especially in the evenings. The worst is when I’m alone in my bed in the dark. And my hand always seems to find its way to my cock while I picture her beneath me, legs spread wide, hair splayed wildly on the pillow under her head, mouth forming a perfect O when she orgasms.
Damn.
My life has become a tragic circle of desperation to move on but plagued by the inability to do so because of the expectations of friends and family. I know that they love me and want only the best for me, but they’re making me miserable.
So fucking miserable.
Am I wrong for wanting a woman in my life? I don’t think so. At least not when I consider the circumstances that led to this place that I’m in.
“Lovely to see you again, Mr. Hutcheson. Please come in.”
“Thank you.”
Cora sits behind her desk and I take the chair across from her. Someone on the outside looking in might mistake our interaction for a meeting between an investment fund manager and his client. But this meeting is about something entirely different.
I’m here to pay for Lou’s time. Pay for the use of her body.
I’m buying Lou. I’m not proud that it’s come to this.
Cora laces her fingers together and places them on her desk. “I’m keen to hear what you think of Lou.”
Her smile screams self-satisfaction. And it should. This woman is good at what she does.
“Lou is everything that you promised.” And more. So much more.
“I knew that she would be, but the real question remains to be answered: is she everything that you’re looking for in a companion or would you like to meet another girl before making your final decision?”
I don’t care for the way that I feel when I consider the possibility of never seeing Lou again. “I don’t need to meet other inamoratas. Lou is my choice. We clicked.” Or at least I think that we did. It could all be an act, her playing the role of an inamorata.
Cora winks at me. “Lou feels the same. She’s happy with your pairing.” I’m relieved to hear the affirmation even if it does come secondhand. “She accepts your proposal and has agreed to move forward with the companionship agreement.”
I’m soaring above the clouds. “Grand.”
“I thought that you might feel that way.”
“What’s the next step in the process?” I want the formalities out of the way as soon as possible.
“I need a list of boundaries and expectations from each of you. Every single one of them must be made known upfront so that you’re both clear about what the other wants in the relationship. It’s a tedious process but necessary. After we have each of your lists, we’ll meet again and discuss your requests. Once the two of you reach an understanding, you’re ready to move forward.”
She says that it’s a tedious process, but it sounds simple enough.
“Payment will be banknotes, in full and upfront.”
“Understood.”
“You told me that you were interested in booking for three months when we spoke last week. Is that still the case?”
“Aye, through August 31.”
Cora takes out a calendar and counts the weeks beneath her breath. “Three days a week over the next twelve weeks. That’s thirty-six dates. We’ll estimate five hours per date at a rate of £200 per hour.” She stops and looks up at me. “You understand that £200 per hour doesn’t cover sex?”
“I need you to allow for sex. And I want Lou to be available to me twenty-four-seven for the full duration. Not for five hours, three days a week.”
Cora’s mouth parts but no words come out.
“And I’d like to pay for sex without condoms.”
“That’s not a service that we offer. I’m sure that you can understand why Inamorata wouldn’t encourage unsafe sexual practices.”
“Of course.” Makes sense.
But Lou and I won’t have the typical inamorata-client relationship. I will be her only client. Condom-free sex would be a safe practice as long as neither of us were having sex with anyone else. And I know that I won’t be.
Cora counts beneath her breath again. “August 31 places us at eighty-five days from today. Availability twenty-four-seven for the duration is a lot of hours.”
“Aye, I’m aware but it’s what I want.”
“All right. Let’s start over with our calculations.”
Cora taps numbers on her keyboard and jots down a number before doing it all over again. “By the way, I’m calculating from today since we aren’t certain when this will be finalized. Her time between now and then must be accounted for.”
Which means that I’m paying for days that I might not spend with her. But by paying, I’ll be assuring that she won’t be with other clients. I’m all right with that.
“Eighty-five days is 2040 hours.” She blows her breath out between pursed lips and slowly shakes her head. “Each hour at £200 equals £408,000. Now let’s allow for eighty-five of those hours to cover sex at a rate of £400 per hour.” She circles a six-digit number and turns it around for me to see. “That brings your grand total to £425,000.”