Thursday Afternoon Read online

  Her face reddened. "You mean pornographic films."

  "Um...yeah."

  "Oh, no. I couldn't do that."

  She couldn’t do that, but she could pay an outlandish amount of money to talk to me? “Okay, I was just trying to give you other options—because you know our agency is very expensive, and I’d hate to see you spend money unnecessarily.” Without even thinking, my thoughts slipped out of my mouth. “How are you even able to afford this? Do nuns get paid?”

  “I receive a small stipend from the church for teaching at the school. Everything we need is provided for by the church. We take an oath to lead a humble life. But I actually had some money put away from a long time ago that I’m using for this.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry, that was really none of my business.”

  She shook her head. “No. That’s okay. But you see, the thing is, I can only afford to pay for this one meeting, so I need to get as much information as possible right now.”

  “Okay, what is it that you needed to know?”

  “Do you read romance novels?”

  “No, I'm afraid I don't. I've never been a big reader, and I don’t believe in romance.”

  Her jaw dropped and she let out a loud gasp. “You don’t believe in romance?”

  I shook my head.

  “Why not? Haven’t you ever been in love?”

  My heart hurt with that one simple question. “Once,” I whispered. That one time was enough for me to never want to fall in love again.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”

  I shrugged. “Nothing really, it just didn’t work out.” Truth was, if I filled her in on that part of my life, we’d be there all week. It was something I tried to keep suppressed anyway, and rarely shared with anyone. A sympathetic gaze fell upon her face, as if she knew the whole story without me ever uttering a word of it. The awkwardness of the moment was lifted as the waitress brought over my coffee.

  “So, Sister—”

  “Hannah. Please just call me Hannah.”

  “Okay, Hannah, what is it you’d like to know?”

  She looked down at the table and picked up her napkin, folding it up into a small square. “Well, I’m just wondering.” Her eyes diverted to the ceiling and her face turned a bright shade of red. “Is sex always as wonderful as they make it out to be in these books?”

  “That depends. Sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn’t. It means different things to different people. To some it’s an expression of love. To others it’s just an action to be completed, kinda like taking out the garbage.” I laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Is it possible for women to have—” She paused and sucked in her bottom lip. “To have multiple—”

  “Orgasms?” I finished for her.

  “Yes.” She let out a relieved breath.

  “Yeah. It is.”

  “Just by a man looking at her?”

  I choked on the sip of coffee I had just taken, unable to halt the fit of laughter that had overcome me. “I’m-I’m—” I tried desperately to catch my breath and at the same time form a coherent sentence so I could set the record straight for this poor misinformed woman. “I’m so sorry,” I managed to get out, grabbing a napkin from the table and wiping the tears of laughter that were rolling down my face. “But that was the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time.”

  “I didn’t intend for it to be funny.” She blushed.

  I pulled it together, putting on my best straight face. “The answer is, no. It’s not possible at all for a woman to have an orgasm in that way.”

  “Oh dear, I guess some of those books aren’t accurate then.”

  I shook my head and smiled. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but have you ever…I mean before you became a nun?”

  She cleared her throat and let out a nervous cough. “When I was sixteen years old, and it only lasted a minute, both times.”

  “Say no more.” No wonder why she became a nun if that was all she had to go by in the sex department. “It takes a lot more for a woman to orgasm than a man looking at her.”

  “Oh boy, I’m never going to be able to pull off this book.”

  “Why do you want to do this so badly?” I asked.

  “I’m not really sure. I love creative writing and I love romance novels, so I figured why not.”

  “I think that’s great. You’re embracing your passion. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.”

  “I plan on donating all of the money I make from it to the local animal shelter.”

  I was a huge animal lover, having spent a lot of time as a young girl volunteering at the animal shelter by my home. I’d bring homeless dogs and cats home with me until they could be adopted, much to my father’s displeasure, but I’d always win out. My dad, who rarely spoke of my mother, would say that I was just like her in that sense. In a weird way, that similar connection made me feel like I actually knew the woman who had given birth to me. He would tell me stories of how she’d take in every stray she could find. I knew if my lifestyle still afforded me to, I’d probably still be the same way. “Well, that’s a very good cause,” I whispered. The sinking feeling deep within my stomach rose to my heart, the same way it always did whenever I would think of the mother I never knew. In only fifteen minute with Hannah, she had managed to unknowingly open two old wounds that I tried so desperately to keep hidden. I was never a believer in fate or signs, but hearing Hannah’s cause and the way her passion for writing paralleled my passion for dance, I couldn’t help but wonder if she had come into my life for a reason.

  I remained completely focused for the rest of our time, answering all of her questions and offering up more information as well while she jotted everything down in her notebook. Without even realizing it, we had gone over our allotted time together when the conversation veered off topic. I was fascinated to learn of how Hannah got the calling to become a nun. It was hard to believe that she was only thirty years old. She was just two years older than I and had already done so much good in the world. She had traveled to third-world countries, helping out the sick, volunteered in the children’s wards at different hospitals, fed the less fortunate at the soup kitchen, and counseled battered women at a shelter. My inferiority complex that I initially had when I walked in was slowly starting to rear its ugly head once again. If I lived to be one hundred, I’d never accomplish one third of her achievements, reminding me once again of our stark differences.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Hannah said as she gazed down at her watch.

  “No, it’s okay. I enjoyed talking to you.”

  “Thank you so much for all of this information. It’s a good start. Hopefully I’ll be able to make something special out of it.”

  I nodded and smiled as she stood up and wrapped her scarf around her neck. “Hannah,” I muttered as she began putting on her coat. “How come you don’t dress like a nun? You know, like aren’t you supposed to wear the long black dress and something on your head?”

  She covered her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter.

  “Am I totally stereotyping?” I asked.

  “No, you are not. In the traditional sense, yes, that is the typical attire for us nuns. But my order is a lot less conservative and allows us to dress how we like.”

  “Gotcha.” I nodded. If it was possible for a nun to be cool, Hannah was. I liked her a lot. “How about if we meet here every Sunday afternoon. Is one good for you?”

  She creased her eyebrows in confusion. “Oh, Bree, that would be very helpful, but like I said earlier, I could only afford this one time.”

  “There wouldn’t be a charge. Consider this my way of helping out a good cause.” Since I wasn’t any of the things Sister Hannah was, then maybe I could contribute in a different way.

  She stood there speechless for a moment. “I couldn’t impose on you like that.”

  “You’re not imposing. I really want to help you with this.”

  “You have no idea how much this
means to me.” Her warm smile spoke mountains of gratitude.

  “No problem. Just promise me you’ll become a best seller.”

  She blushed. “I guess one can dream. It was very nice meeting you, Bree.”

  I pulled out a piece of paper from my purse and scribbled my phone number. “And you as well. If anything changes, give me a call. If not, I’ll see you on Sunday.”

  She nodded and buttoned up her coat, flashing me another smile before walking out the door. If someone would have told me that one day I would take a liking to a nun, I would have told them they were crazy. But as Hannah’s story played over and over in my mind, I realized that as opposite as we were, we both had the same type of heart. She was just more ready to give hers to others while I stayed in the background, giving mine in silence.

  Chapter 4

  My week had been so jam-packed that by the time Thursday arrived, I’d forgotten just how intriguing my Thursday afternoon was. As I walked through the hotel room door, my memory was quickly jogged when my eyes set upon the sexy Brit staring back at me. Was it possible that he was even more handsome than the last time we had met? He was dressed much more casually than on our previous meeting, going from powerful businessman to Ralph Lauren model. Sporting khaki pants, a chunky cable knit sweater and a hint of a five o’clock shadow. I wasn’t quite sure which look I preferred more.

  “Hey there,” I greeted. Immediately sensing his discomfort, I removed my coat and took a seat next to him on the bed where we sat quietly, staring out at Madison Avenue. “Is everything okay?” I finally spoke after a few moments of silence.

  He cleared his throat and turned his head. “Yeah.” It was obvious he was manifesting some guilt over what was about to happen. I was no stranger to that, and was very good at alleviating some of the burden.

  “You don’t have to answer anything you don’t feel comfortable with, but I’m guessing this is your first time doing something like this?”

  He nodded.

  “We can take it as slow as you like.” The same burning question played out in my mind—Why was a successful, handsome man like him paying for sex? Then again, why did any of my clients pay for sex? They were all wealthy, powerful, and for the most part nice looking. But there was something different about this guy. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but he seemed more sincere and a lot sweeter than my other clients. Something told me he wasn’t the cheating type, but if I was wrong and he was married, he was second-guessing his decision to be there. I got countless stories from my married clients as to why they were seeking out my services: They had an open relationship. They were married just for the sake of their kids, but led two separate lives. Their wife was a lesbian. You name it, I’d heard it. I didn’t push for any information. In fact, I was happier not knowing anything at all, but sooner or later they always felt the need to confess. “Is there anything you had in mind for today?”

  His eyes widened in surprise.

  “Simon, you did pay to have sex with me, if that’s not what—”

  “No. I mean, yes, I’m aware of that.”

  Sometimes it was easier if the talking ceased and the natural process took over. I moved closer and stretched my neck, reaching his plump ruby lips. He seemed to relax ever so slightly as our tongues intertwined. Normally, kissing wasn’t a big request with my clients; we usually always got right down to business. But something told me he was a romantic at heart who needed kissing as a prerequisite to sex. My hands moved up and down his back, and I could feel his tension waning. I commended myself for knowing exactly how to get him to loosen up a bit. There was a lot more to this job than just having sex; you had to learn to read people, and sum up their personality within the first few minutes of meeting them. Some clients were harder to do that with, but Thursday Afternoon wasn’t. If I had to sum him up, I’d say he was a fair businessman who could be tough when he had to be, but he could also be the best ally to those that were loyal to him. He wasn’t on an ego trip like most of my clients. He seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve, and at the moment he was either torn up over being unfaithful or he was trying to get over a bad relationship. If I had to guess, I’d pick the latter. He didn’t seem like the cheating kind, but I wasn’t putting money on that assumption—stranger things happened in this business.

  He pushed me down on the bed and his lips skimmed over my neck. Now we were finally moving at a normal pace. All I needed was to light the spark, and hopefully within a few more minutes we would have an unstoppable inferno. But when he lifted his head to look at me a haze of torture glinted his eyes, and I knew that fire had fizzled out. “Bree, I’m sorry. I just…” He sat up and raked his hand through his hair, letting out an exhausted sigh.

  Easing myself up next to him, I took his hand in mine. “Rule number one, never apologize to me. You’re the customer who is paying for a service. My feelings aren’t going to get hurt if this isn’t what you want. That’s the beautiful thing about paying for sex: you don’t have to explain yourself. Like any good business, we want our customers to be happy with their service, so if you need time to think about this or if you’d like to meet some other girls at the agency, then—”

  “No. No, that is not what I want at all.” He was adamant.

  “Okay, then just let me know what it is that I can do to help you become a satisfied customer.”

  He was deep in thought before blurting out, “Watch TV with me.”

  I had gotten some strange requests before, and watching TV was never one of them. But he was the paying customer, so if that was what he wanted to do then I was happy to oblige. Without saying a word, I kicked off my shoes and bent down to remove his as well. After propping some extra pillows against the headboard, I climbed onto the bed and tapped on the mattress for him to join me.

  He took a seat next to me, keeping a comfortable distance.

  “I promise, I won’t bite,” I teased, hoping to lighten the mood.

  He moved closer, but I still sensed some reluctance.

  “So, what is it you’d like to watch?’ I asked as I flicked on the television and skimmed through the channels. The first smile of the day flashed across his face when I paused at the first Twilight movie. “I take it you’re a Twilight fan?” I asked as I put down the remote.

  “I was kind of forced into it.” His widened smile faded into a wounded expression.

  What the heck was his deal?

  We sat in silence for some time before he spoke up again. “So, is Bree your real name?”

  “In a way.”

  He creased his eyebrows in confusion.

  “It’s part of my name.” While all the other girls went by aliases, I chose not to. Instead I used a shortened version of my real name, Aubree. I had given up so much of my identity to this job; I wasn’t ready to take away my name too. It was my mother’s middle name, and in a weird way, the one piece of her I would always have. I knew I was safe as long as I never gave my last name.

  “Brianne?” He smirked.

  “Nope.”

  “Brielle?”

  I shook my head, and he gazed at me, deep in thought.

  “Rumpelstiltskin,” he blurted in his sexy British accent, causing us both to howl with laughter.

  In the hours that passed, he opened up ever so slightly. I learned he was thirty-two years old and had started up his own advertising firm when he was twenty-six. He was from a quaint little town just outside of London and had attended Columbia University. As I listened to him tell me about himself, I was finding I wanted to know more, which was totally out of the norm for me. Whenever my other clients would talk about themselves, I’d always put on my best smile and pretend to be interested when the truth was, I couldn’t care less. I had learned from the very beginning to turn off my feelings. They were business deals, and just like in any normal business—always be courteous to the client. I didn’t even refer to them by name in my mind. Instead they were known to me by their standing time and day of the week, but something abou
t Thursday Afternoon made me feel differently.

  After we ordered room service and talked some more, our time was almost up. I knew I shouldn’t have been, but I was feeling a little guilty knowing he didn’t get anything out of our time spent together after spending a ton of money. I reached for his hand as we sat side by side on the bed, smiling inside when he intertwined his fingers with mine. All the apprehension in his eyes from earlier had faded away when we met each other’s gaze. He inched his head closer to me and gently skimmed my lips before parting them with his tongue. Slowly easing down on the bed, we continued our kiss, pressing our bodies closer together. In a matter of seconds the switch had been flipped. Hesitation turned to desire, reservation to eagerness, and regret to contentment. The rain had ended, and that fire I had been trying to ignite all afternoon was finally set ablaze. And as he began to explore every inch of my body, I knew nothing would put it out now.

  Chapter 5

  “Okay, I’m beat,” Jess complained as we finished up our cardio class.

  “Wimp! I was going to suggest we do another mile or two on the treadmill,” I teased.

  “Kiss my ass!” Jess teased back.

  Jess also worked for Margo, and over the years she and I had become great friends. It was nice to have someone I could be open with about my profession, instead of making up lies or telling the truth and then being banished because of it. I could be myself around Jess and that meant a lot to me. Ever since this had become my career choice, there weren’t many people who I could do that with. I kept my family in the dark for a while, until one day I decided I was done living a lie and chose to come clean. That was the day I found out honesty wasn’t always the best policy. My father didn’t take the news too well. I was kidding myself for thinking that maybe by some small miracle he would. It’s not like it’s every father’s dream to have his daughter become a call girl. It had been three years since we had last spoken. Every year on our birthdays or at Christmas, I’d still hold out some hope that maybe he’d come around, but so far that hadn’t happened. Our relationship was far from perfect even before I dropped my bombshell. My entire life, I sensed he blamed me for my mother’s death. He had never come out and said it, but came very close when the big career admission happened. When word leaked out to my brother, who was partner at a big law firm in San Francisco, our relationship became nonexistent. Unlike my dad, he still spoke to me, but he was distant and treated me more like an acquaintance than a sister. I knew he had his reasons; if it got out it could tarnish his reputation as the big-time attorney that he was. Still, it hurt. I was his biggest supporter when he’d decided to come out to our family that he was gay. His partner, Trey, was my only link to my family. We’d talk on a weekly basis, and he’d keep me abreast of everything that was going on. He was just like Jess—he didn’t judge me. He was a true friend and the anchor I needed to a family who had basically disowned me.