“Not really, no.”
She interlaced her fingers and stared down at the floor. She did not want to ask this, but she had to. “I know you need to go, but first, could you . . . recommend . . . a colleague who you think would work well with me?”
“After last night, you still want to go forward with these crazy lessons?”
“They’re not crazy, but yes, I plan to move forward.” She forced her eyes up to his stony face and took a determined breath. “Maybe if you think about it a while, you’ll remember someone who’s . . . patient, like you, a-and doesn’t mind sweat or—”
He took a half step toward her, and his jaw worked for a moment before he said, “Girls like you don’t need escorts. Girls like you have boyfriends. You need to get this idea out of your head.”
Burning anger pulsed through her body, immobilizing her. He didn’t know anything about girls like her. “That’s completely untrue. Girls like me intimidate boyfriends away. Girls like me have never been asked out by a single boy. Girls like me have to find their own way, make their own luck. I’ve had to fight for every success in my life, and I’m going to fight for this. I’m going to get good at sex, and then I’ll finally be able to entice the right person into being mine.”
“Stella, it doesn’t work that way. You don’t need these lessons.”
“I don’t agree with you. Please, think about it? I trust your judgment.” She rushed to her purse, extracted a business card, and scrawled her cell number on the back. Placing it in his hand, she said, “I’d really appreciate it. Thank you.”
He stuffed the card into his back pocket with a hard jab of his hand. “What will you do if I don’t give you a name?”
She shrugged. “My selection process was pretty good the first time around. I’ll just go through the escort listings again.”
“Do you know how many crack jobs there are in there? It’s not safe.” He lifted a hand like he wanted to touch her but fisted and withdrew it instead.
“Are you saying your agency’s guarantee of safety is meaningless?”
He growled in frustration and raked his fingers through his damp hair, making it stand on end. “There’s a vetting process with psych evals and background checks, but people can slip through the cracks. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Stella tipped her chin up. “I’m not stupid. I have a Taser.”
“You have what?”
She snatched the pink C2 Taser from her purse and handed it over.
“Holy hell, do you even know how to use it?” He stared at it with eyes so rounded she would have laughed if the situation had been any different.
“You slide the safety back, aim, and hit the button. It’s very simple.”
“Would you have used it on me?”
“I didn’t, so clearly the answer is no.”
When he rotated it and stared at it in horrified fascination, she grabbed it from him. “Never aim it at yourself.” After plopping it in her purse, she crossed her arms and said, “As you can see, I have the situation under control, but I appreciate your concern.”
The thought of perusing the escort ads again made her grind her teeth. None of those men interested her anymore. Once her mind was made up, it was made up. The only one she wanted was Michael, but she’d botched things so badly he couldn’t stand to see her again. How was she supposed to get better if her problem kept driving away the people who could help her?
Her bitterness must have shown because his expression softened. “Stella, I don’t do repeat sessions. Otherwise, I’d take you up on your offer.”
“Why?” she asked on a frustrated exhalation.
“I used to do it in the past. A client got attached, and things blew out of control. The single-session policy has saved me and my clients a lot of grief.”
“You mean you knew ahead of time you weren’t going to accept?” Blackness threatened to spill over and stain her insides. She’d thought he was a potential solution to her problem. Now, it looked like it had been nothing but a one-night stand from the start.
He nodded curtly.
“Why did you stay last night, then? I was up front with you about what I wanted. All of the k-kissing and touching, my clothes, I did that for nothing.” Her throat swelled so much that near the end, she could barely force the words out.
She pressed hot palms to her forehead, trying to deal with this betrayed feeling. The pain and shame were so unexpected, she had trouble breathing. Why had he made her do those things? Had it been a game? Had he thought it was funny?
How come she never understood people?
“I honestly didn’t believe you,” he said. “At most, I thought you had a confidence problem that would go away after we were together. Besides, you paid in advance. I wanted you to get your money’s worth.”
“You wanted to show me a good time.”
“Well . . . yeah. That’s why people hire me.”
“But that’s not why I hired you.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose and righted her glasses, suddenly hollowed out and exhausted. “It doesn’t matter. You should get going, or you’ll be late.”
As if from a distance, she was aware of her feet bringing her to the door and her palm gripping the handle, pulling it open.
He took a breath as if he meant to speak but ended up shutting his mouth before he could say anything. He swept past her and paused on the other side of the doorway, considering her. “I’m sorry to leave with things like this. Be safe, okay?”
She looked away from him and nodded.
“Good-bye, Stella.”
He padded down the hall, and she shut the door. The locks engaged with a final click.
She should shower. She’d basically slept in her sweat last night. But when she touched her clothes, she realized she was wearing Michael’s shirt. She pressed her cheek to her shoulder and inhaled his scent. After sniffing her arms and hair, she discovered it was all over her.
What did she do now?
Her body itched with the need to wash, but if she showered, that precious smell would be gone. And there wasn’t ever going to be any more of it. This was it.
She sank to the floor and hugged her knees to her chest to keep the loneliness at bay. She ached so badly to be held it felt like a sickness had invaded her muscles and bones. As usual, her own arms provided little comfort. She’d give herself five minutes, and then she’d get ready for work. It was only Saturday morning, and she’d already had more weekend than she could handle. If she didn’t find a way to occupy her mind, she’d spiral into something dark and bleak—was already spiraling.
Three quick knocks rapped on the door, and she stood up mechanically. It was probably housecleaning, checking to see if she’d left yet.
She opened the door, and Michael stared back at her with an intense gaze. His chest labored like he’d sprinted the entire way back from his car.
“Three sessions. That’s the most I’ll do,” he said.
It took her a moment to understand that by sessions he meant lessons, but when she did, her heart sprinted so fast her fingers went numb. He was going to help her. Could three lessons possibly be enough to perfect sex? There was so much she had to learn, so much she was bad at, but what choice did she have? Maybe if they planned everything out very carefully . . .
With her limbs frozen in shock, all she could manage to say was, “Okay.”
He considered her, the muscles of his jaw taut. “If we do this thing, you have to promise not to go crazy when it ends.”
“I can promise that,” she said through the roaring in her ears.
“I mean it. No stalking, no calling, no outrageous gifts. None of that.” His fingers were tight around the strap of his bag as he awaited her response, and his expression was dead serious.
“Okay.”
He unlooped the bag from his shoulders and let it fall to the ground before he stepped toward her, not stopping until her back was pressed against the open door. He flattened a hand on the door next to her face and leaned down. His gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips. “I’m going to kiss you now.”