What was it Andy had said about Paul? That he was a cop? A secret agent? Maybe in the military?
‘I’m a personal trainer.’ Then he personally trained his eyes on hers. When she studied his practised countenance, he went from handsome to sleazy in an instant. ‘During the day that is. At night, it’s my job to pleasure women.’
Excuse me?
Paul reached across the table and covered Ava’s hand with his. She froze. ‘We have a couple of hours, so let’s enjoy our wine and pasta and then we can go back to my place. I have a flat nearby.’
Ava shook her head, as if she had water in her ears and hadn’t heard him correctly. ‘You’re a what?’
‘I’m a man who is all yours for two hours, Ava. You’d be surprised where I can take you in two hours.’
Ava pulled her hand out from under his. ‘I think there’s been some kind of misunderstanding here, Paul.’
‘I hope not. You’re a very attractive woman.’
‘Thank you, but I thought this was a date date.’
‘It can be whatever you want. Andy mentioned that it’s been a long time since you’ve been with a man. It doesn’t have to be that way, Ava. We will have sex and it will be …’ he leaned in even closer and his eyes dropped to her lips. ‘It will be … unbelievable. I will take you to places you’ve never imagined. All for a fixed price of five hundred dollars.’
And at that moment, Ava saw every moment of her sad and boring love life flash before her eyes. That one high school boyfriend who’d held her down and fought with her before she kneed him in the balls and escaped. A series of bearded environmentalists while going through university. A long spell before someone nice called Simon, who broke up with her when he went to England and never came back. For so long, Callum. And now Paul the male escort.
Paul, who was asking a mere five hundred dollars to have sex with her.
Ava swallowed the rest of her glass of wine and sighed.
So this is where she’d ended up.
She wanted to have sex with someone, there was no doubt about that. And unbelievable sex sounded kinda good. But there was only one man she wanted to have unbelievable, knock-it-out-of-the-park sex with.
‘Thanks, Paul, but no thanks.’ She reached for her clutch bag and tucked it under her arm.
‘C’mon, Ava. You seem like a nice woman. This could be fun.’
‘No judgement, Paul. But this was a mistake.’
Ava pushed back her chair, turned, and walked out.
And fought off the urge to go right round to Andy’s house to strangle him.
*
Ava had been home ten minutes when the first text message arrived.
She’d kicked off her killer heels and peeled off her dress, which was sitting in a pile on the floor, and was cleaning the make-up from her face. As she rubbed at her eyes to remove the particularly stubborn mascara (why had she bought waterproof?) she thought about what a waste of money it was to buy the dress and heels when, theoretically, she could have turned up in her work clothes and still had sex if she’d been willing to part with her hard-earned cash.
Her phone beeped. She ignored it while she brushed her teeth. If it was her sister, she didn’t feel up to talking to her; if it was Andy, she might have got angry; and she knew it wasn’t her parents because it was already 9.30 p.m. on a Friday night and she was certain they would be in bed. Whoever it was could wait. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. She wanted to wallow. She wanted to curse her heart and make a vow to some higher being or other that she would swear off men altogether.
Ava stomped to her bedroom, and unclipped the fancy red bra she’d worn, returning it to the bottom drawer where she knew it would sit for another five years. She pulled out a tank top and slipped it on, and then chose a book from the bookshelf near the window. She had a pile of books she’d been meaning to read but hadn’t yet, so what better time to start? She grabbed the latest from her favourite author, slipped into bed, rearranged her pillows, turned on the bedside lamp and pulled the covers up to her waist.
Only then did Ava check her phone.
How’s my garden?
She blinked. Put the phone down on her bed and wondered what the hell time it was in Singapore? She Googled it. Nine p.m. Callum was her client. He was curious about progress and she always gave her clients progress reports late-ish on a Friday night when they were six thousand kilometres away.
Her mind went back to the kiss. How he’d looked at her, the sound of his voice, the pounding of her heart and the throb in her sex when she’d touched his body. His beautiful, strong body. That kiss had every indication of being the start of something, rather than the end of everything. She wished it hadn’t happened. She wished she hadn’t given in to it, wished she didn’t want more. She wished it so much it hurt.