7 I'd rather go home

His arm had remained steadfastly around my shoulders all this while. I had gotten use to the pressure of his arm there. It was somewhat comforting.

Now I answered his accusation.

"I do. You seem to overlook the fact that you paid me to placate and humour you. By accepting your big fat sum as you called it, I am under the obligation to placate and humour you. Was that not the purpose of hiring me? So that I can please you in whatever way you want." I said.

He scratched his head; his thick brown curls getting all messy.

"What a fool I am. It did not occur to me that we have started off on unequal bargaining power. Yes, you're right." He muttered under his breath.

I watched him closely.

"But let me make this clear, Lila. I am not your typical client. You can call me whatever you deem fit. You must speak your mind to me at all times. That is how I would like you to placate and humour me. I want us to be on equal footing." He said.

"I may say things which you do not wish to hear if I speak unfettered." I said.

"Then so be it. I must hear it anyway. That is how I would like our relationship to be. Take me then as your sparring partner. I value honesty and I hope you do too." He said.

"I do. But my life story really isn't worth telling." I said.

"Then we start afresh again. Lila, I am Matthias. I am pleased to have your acquaintance." He said, giving me his outstretched palms, finally letting go of my shoulders.

We shook hands, grasping each other's hands tightly. This time, I grasped his hands tightly too.

"Mr. Boardmann, I am pleased to have your acquaintance too." I said.

I felt the déjà vu of our first meeting.

"Call me Matthias." He commanded.

"I'm glad you slept better last night, Mr Board...I mean, Matthias." I asked, catching myself but not quite in time.

"Thank you for being by my bedside yesterday." He said.

"The pleasure was mine." I said.

It was a standard answer. I prided myself for all my pre-prepared questions and answers. When someone says thank you, always answer with "the pleasure was mine" as it sounds more melodious to the ears than "you're welcome."

His thick eyebrows twitched and I could sense a question coming up.

"You're being too kind. I don't see how it was such a pleasure for you to babysit me while you sat straight up in that tight dress of yours. It must have been such a chore." He commented.

Perhaps "the pleasure was mine" was not so suitable a standard answer after all. I have to distinguish thank yous between clients whom sex is proffered to and those whom I did not have sex at all.

"Now that you are supposedly honest with me, tell me, do you want to stay the night?" He asked.

I shook my head.

"I'd rather go home." I answered.

A rather disappointed smile curled up his lips.

"See how simple it is to be honest!" He said, in a calm voice.

I bit my lower lip. I saw that my wine glass was still half-full. I took a few sips. It is a good tactic to hide my nervousness. He seemed to imply that I really was dishonest but I was not.

"You're not much of a conversationalist, are you?" He asked.

I shook my head.

"My body does all the talking. I'm very sure that I am not hired for my talking skills. That would be for a different job." I said.

I was quite sure that he would want sex today because it did not materialize yesterday but I thought he liked to take it slow. However the main motivation for sex was that I could not bear to talk to him anymore. How could he resist me? I faced him and started caressing his hair, like I did yesterday. He caught my hand in his.