Now, I hesitate at the entrance to the Roosevelt Hotel’s bar. I know I look good. My long, curly brown hair is swept enticingly over one shoulder, and I’m wearing a sexy yet modest cocktail dress. It’s a snug royal blue number that emphasizes my tiny waist and large rear end. The sweetheart neckline shows off just the right amount of décolletage without being skanky, and a high-low hem flutters flirtatiously around my knees. Okay, it’s do or die, so I take a deep breath and step into the darkened bar. Hopefully, the client’s here already and we can get this show on the road.
I run my tongue over my lips as I scan the lobby for a man who meets the description Margaux provided. Then I do a double-take when my eyes settle upon a tall figure at the end of the bar because if this is my client, then he’s a veritable Greek god. He’s wearing a perfectly-cut dark suit which highlights the breadth of his shoulders and the width of his chest. A blindingly white dress shirt contrasts with his bronzed tan and as I gape like a dumbstruck schoolgirl, those blue eyes glint, taking in my reaction. Quickly, my mouth snaps shut. Mr. Montlake asked for a professional, and my behavior was definitely more of a teenage groupie than a seasoned working girl.
Slowly, I cross the room to greet my new customer, taking in his strong jaw and raven-black hair. Goodness, I had no idea they even made men like this anymore. He takes another sip of his drink, those electric blue eyes meeting mine over the rim of his glass, and my heart speeds as I feel faint.
Stop it, the voice in my head chides. You’ve been on dozens, if not hundreds of dates, Simona, and this is just another customer. Don’t get carried away.
The voice is right, and yet I can’t help the way my pulse is racing, and the warm flush that decorates my cheeks. Finally, I’m standing in front of the handsome man and extend my hand.
“Hi,” I say in a dulcet tone. “You must be James. I’m Simona.”
He nods and takes my palm, enveloping it in his huge one.
“Nice to meet you, Simona. Please, take a seat,” he says, gesturing to the empty stool next to him. “Can I get you something to drink?”
I think for a moment.
“Yes, just white wine please.”
James nods at the bartender, and the older man immediately springs to action. As I slide myself onto the bar stool, prickles of delight run up and down my arms. I’ve never been so aware of a client before, and it’s as if I can feel him touching me, although of course, he’s a few inches away. I inhale deeply, feeling dizzy once again. Mr. Montlake smells like male musk and sandalwood, with a hint of evergreen thrown in. If I’m not mistaken, he’s maybe thirty-four or thirty-five, with a knowing look in those blue eyes.
He catches me staring and smiles again.
“You’re very beautiful, Simona,” he says in a low voice. “Your pictures don’t do you justice.”
“Thank you,” I say with a flirtatious smile. “I like a man who recognizes quality when he sees it. But those photos were taken by a professional, and if they’re not up to par, I’ll have to tell the agency that.”
James immediately raises his brows.
“Oh they’re good enough,” he says. “It’s just that I like to see a little more, that’s all.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“More? What do you mean?”
James merely shrugs with a grin.
“In your snaps, you were wearing a dress and heels, kind of like you have on now,” he drawls. “I’d like to see more. Maybe in a bikini or lingerie.”
I giggle.
“Oh you! You mean that kind of more. Okay, I’m sure we can find something to meet your needs. I mean, City Girls likes to keep things classy, so I’m not sure they’d let us put up boudoir photos because it’s a little risqué, but I’m sure if a client puts in a request …”
James grins.
“Oh really? A request? I’ll definitely have to talk to them about it then.”
I giggle, the tone melodious.
“Please do. My manager has a stick up her butt, so she never listens to my suggestions. But if it came from you, I think the response would be really different.”
He grins in return and nods.
“I think you’re right,” he drawls. “I’ll make sure it happens. But enough about the photos because you’re much more beautiful in person,” he compliments as those blue eyes gleam. “Tell me about yourself, Simona.”
I smile sweetly and rattle off my regular getting-to-know-you spiel that I use with clients. It’s just the normal things, such as the fact that I’m from New Jersey, and that I love and appreciate art. Maybe some things thrown in about my fitness routine, and my affinity for dogs too. Nothing too revealing, and nothing too crazy either.