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Love Story Of A Call Girl

One last glance at him, one last glance at the penthouse suite, and then I was a minuscule creature below the grand marble arch entrance of the penthouse suite; the residence of the wealthy in the suburbs. Then I took a few steps further to the boulevard ahead of me. I dared not turn back for I might just change my mind and run back to his suite; knocking like crazy on his door, begging him to let me in. The breeze became more volatile the further I left the boulevard. I walked towards the coastline. Sand made its way into my ballet flats, causing my skin to feel its rough friction against my flats, but I was too determined to be distracted by it. Then I walked towards the rising tide. I saw waves; its crests subtle and light in movement. Now, at the edge of land and sea, the sun had yet to shine and the moon yet to fade away. I felt that I was here; I knew I was here; I could feel my joy and my sorrow; everything and nothing flashed before me. I brushed the flapping shawl away from my chest and touched the icy cold moonstone at my neck. I felt the weight of the world in a tiny moonstone; a stone which had been with me throughout my life, dangling in front of me like a sacred pendant. Gazing at the stone, I knew I could no longer keep it. That time had passed. I wanted to move on, and the stone reminded me of all that was; the pain, the joy, the sorrow.

LiNa_Author · Geral
Classificações insuficientes
38 Chs

Mesmerized by him

"You have to know, Lila- I rather like you; strange as you are. I feel like we have known each other for a longer time despite the fact that it was only yesterday I laid my eyes on you. I'd never do anything to hurt you. But it seems that I have overindulged and overexpressed my innermost thoughts, and it has taken its toll on you. I regret that deeply." He said.

His voice was low but rich in an emotion of sorts.

His free arm patted me on the head. It felt strange to be patted on the head. I thought it belittling and rather demeaning but he had looked at me with such concern in his eyes that I brushed aside those thoughts.

I was mesmerized by him. Had his eyes pierced me like before? They had, yes, but there was a concern inherent in the grey of his eyes, and I felt enough warmth and fuzziness inside that I stopped crying.

"Damn it. I have a beautiful woman in front of me and I am not making use of the situation." He said loudly.

He scratched his unruly mane of hair and still dissatisfied, he knocked his own head with his palms. Clearly he did not approve of himself. However I would not have violence of any sort. Just as quickly, I reached out for his hands and I grasped them with mine.

"Shall I undress for you?" I asked, looking at him in all honesty and confusion.

Remembering the aftermath of last night's failed attempt, I felt that I had to ask for his permission should I make a blunder, and a fool of myself twice in a row.

"Not yet, Lila. Not yet..." He said, almost in a whisper.

He had started afresh by shooting out questions at me. I wondered when he would want sex. Not that I was feeling even a little sexual. Far from it but I could always fake my desire for it. Sex was better than talking like this.

"Lila- is it your real name?" He asked.

"No, it's not but I like the colour of lilac. I could have named myself Lila." I said.

He did not pry upon my real name. Escorts do not give out their real names for safety concerns.

He attempted to lighten up the sombre atmosphere.

"I can tell with your lilac cardigan yesterday, and your lilac shawl tonight." He said, with a smile.

Instead of a cardigan, I had come with a lilac shawl tonight. We were just past midsummer and it was warmer than it was yesterday. I thought too that the shawl did little to cover my cleavage compared to the cardigan. It was of sheer fabric and it left something to the imagination.

"If I may ask, where are you originally from? You speak with an accent I can't quite pinpoint, and that irritates me. I have travelled to many countries and I had always prided myself in the subtle art of knowing where someone is from. You can always infer certain traits in a person by virtue of their place of birth. I'll know you better then." He said.

I thought that was discrimination sugar-coated; used by people like him to judge people whose way of life they were ignorant of and had every reason to think themselves superior.

"Is that so?" I asked, without thinking.

"I see that this is your first question aimed at me." He said with a chuckle.

He turned downwards towards me again; his lips accidentally brushing my temples but his arm still held me at his leisure.

I let out an inarticulate puff. I should have said something else. He just loved to talk.

"Good question. I shall attempt to justify myself. We are all products of our upbringing and environment. Through years of conditioning, sometimes we do not know any better. Ignorance is bliss." He said.

"I was born in Thailand. We were a farming community initially before development polluted the crops. To make ends meet, we moved to Bangkok when I was ten." I said.

I hope that he was satisfied.

However he barely acknowledged my reply.