I could not master my emotions

"You're dramatizing me again. Beware the fallacy. You barely know me." I said.

"I will know you well enough. I shall get to the bottom of this. I always get..." He said.

Something snapped within me and I tasted a strong scent on my lower lips. It had a pungent aftertaste to it. First I thought it was a whiff in the air. There was always something off in the scent of his suite. It took me a while to realise that I had bitten my lower lip. It was the scent of blood; my very own; of the pungency of red wine which I so disliked.

"...what I want." He continued.

He paused midway then, having noticing my bloody lower lip.

I was such a fool. I could not master my emotions. I did not even realise that my body was not in sync with my mind. My body always obeyed me. The emotions were a bit more difficult, but they let the body take lead.

"Lila..." He said, his voice faltering behind.

Swiftly he fished out a white linen handkerchief from his side pockets and gently dabbed my lips. I stood still like an obedient child, not having any thoughts of my own until I saw that his handkerchief was stained smack in the centre with the dark red of my blood.

I took the blood-stained handkerchief from his hands.

"Don't. It's squeaky clean; it's spotless white. You'll be stuck with the stain." I said, but it was obviously too late for that.

"I have tonnes of handkerchiefs. Have you not already ransacked my cupboard drawers last night?" He asked, gently.

"Even so, let me bring it home and try to remove the stain with vinegar." I said.

"Forget it, Lila. That's the least on my mind. Yesterday, I made you cry. Today, I made you bleed. What a brute I am!" He said, with a ferocity in his voice.

He took the handkerchief from my hands and placed them back in his pocket.

Muttering something incomprehensible, he raised my chin with his long fingers so that it was inevitable that I looked up into his eyes. His fingers barely grazed my skin but I quivered. His fingers were all warmth and tenderness; just like the man himself right now.

"When you're near me and when we look into each other's eyes, I feel that you treat me differently from your other clients. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate that." He said to me.

His voice was low and his eyes, although they pierced me with an intensity of sorts; seemed to radiate compassion towards me.

"That's because we have not had sex, Mr. Boardmann." I said.

"So?" He asked.

"That's why I treat you differently." I said, in all honesty.

"And that's bad?" He asked, curiosity filling his voice.

"Don't you get it? I strut my body about and I fake my orgasms. That's what sly little things do. If we had sex instead of talking, you would find me no different from other call girls." I said.