Buying Thyme (10 page)

“Thank you.” His handsome eyes smoulder every rational thought inside my head. 

I want you so bad Tom Smythe,
I’m screaming inside. I want to just hold you and tell you that everything is going to be all right. Why did I have to meet you through my capacity as a prostitute Tom Smythe? I guess this is what he wanted. Some company for the night. If it weren’t me who met him, then he would have just ordered one of the other girls at the Agency. I’m glad he chose me. I hate to think what Paris or Sally would be like with someone like Tom.

We finish the
entire bucket of prawns and eat our way through two delicious fish burgers. Our conversations have gone from what music we both love to what sports we watch. I find more and more similarities with Tom as our conversation continues and evolves. Tom reminds me a lot of my twin brother and for this reason, I am glad that I chose to do this booking, despite my original objections. For once I find myself laughing at Tom’s bad attempts at jokes. For a brief moment I actually forget that I’m even on a booking with a client. As the candlelight continues to cast shadows across Tom’s face, I notice for the first time that he has a prominent scar running across his nose from his bridge all the way down to the tip. I wonder what happened to him. A mild imperfection that seems almost trivial on an immaculate face. On any other person it would almost be a disfigurement, but on Tom it only adds to the hurt that I know lies deep behind those troubled blue eyes. Our conversation flows easily even though it feels as if time has come to a standstill.

“Well I think I’ll definitely come back here Miranda. It’s a great concept and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed getting out. I don’t know if I’ll be able to match the beautiful company that you have given me tonight though.” He gulps the remainder of the Sangria punch. That completes the fourth pitcher between us for the evening,

“So I’ll just have to book you again I think.” He winks again at me.
What
… no suggestion that he wants to see me out side of work? That’s a change… and a shame. The sense of familiarity around him causes me to drop my guard a little again.

“You know, you remind me of my brother.” I can’t believe I’ve just said that.

“Really? Must be a top guy. Shall we head back?” He surprisingly changes the subject. It makes me feel better about disclosing so much of myself to him in one night. Information that Tench and other clients beg to pry from me during every booking. I nod at Tom. He rises from his seat and holds out his hand to assist me up. After the four pitchers of Sangria I’m grateful for the help, an apparent groggy feeling washing over me as soon as I stand. Tom continues to hold my hand in his own as we stroll back along the beachfront toward his penthouse. The cool air wafts off the ocean and disguises the heat of my skin as it frostily wraps around me. I thoroughly enjoy the moment of holding Tom’s strong hand. Although remnants of my weekend with Joe Tench still manage to tug at the back of my mind.

“Would you like
another drink?” Tom asks as we stroll into his penthouse.

“Actually. I don’t think I can drink another drop of alcohol right now.” I yawn forcefully and I slump into the soft couch in the open lounge room.
 

I feel my eyes start to become heavy as I find comfort in the soft cushions of the chocolate coloured leather surrounding me. I hear Tom in the kitchen and feel myself drift into a welcoming slumber. I vaguely feel the weightlessness of being lifted off the couch, and hazily recognise Tom’s solid embrace around me but my consciousness drifts back into my happy place.

The warm sun
and distant sound of the ocean grows increasingly recognisable as my awareness finally pulls me from my alcohol-induced drowse. I realise that I have slept soundly all night. Peeling one eye open at a time, I glaze sideways from my pillow. My head tries to focus on anything around the room to indicate where I am. Hotel rooms all start to blur into one another in this job, and often I have to remind myself exactly where I am, and whom I’m with whenever I first wake up. I roll over to see Tom Smythe’s beautiful face serenely lying next to me. He too is just stirring from his slumber. His dreamy eyes focus on me and his gorgeous smile instantly shines brighter than the sun beaming outside.
Ah
… now that’s something delightful to wake up to! I remember that I’m in the same bed as one of the most handsome men I’ve ever lay my eyes on.
What a welcome sight you are this morning Tom Smythe.
I could definitely wake up to this every morning.

“You look happy this morning.” I state the obvious.
 

Oh shit! It dawns on me that I don’t remember even getting to bed last night. I lift the covers to see that I am wearing an unfamiliar t-shirt with just my underwear. I snap the covers back down and realise that Tom has undressed me and redressed me into one of his t-shirts. All the wh
ile I was in a complete coma!

“I slept all night for the first time in a long time.” Tom seems rather impressed with himself.

I on the other hand, am annoyed at the fact that I let my guard down so much that I allowed myself to get drunk and pass out. Then to let a man touch me without any form of control over myself!

“You didn’t drug me last night by any chance did you?” I’m far from jovial in my questioning and Tom can tell.

“Miranda! You’re not serious are you?” He sits up abruptly and frowns down at me.

I realise that I’m being completely ridiculous and insensitive.

“No. Of course not. I just don’t normally…” I try and search for some reason for my inexcusable state last night. It must be a mixture of the past weekend and the lack of sleep I had with Joe Tench, and the fact that I am just so comfortable with Tom. Combining that with a larger than usual consumption of alcohol… Oh four pitchers of Sangria! Oh dear!

“It’s alright… Me either.” Tom lies back down, in a supine position toward the ceiling.
 

I feel ashamed that I ignored his feelings completely and roll over to face him.

“So I gather you got an impromptu peep show last night when I decided to laps into a coma?” I smile cheekily at him. 

Tom glances over at me and laughs, his dimples creasing the sides of his cheeks.

“It was a tough job. But someone had to do it.” Tom remains staring toward the ceiling. 

He rolls over towards me so that we are now facing each other. I notice that his torso is naked. His broad shoulders shadow me from the sun radiating through the window behind him. I can feel the heat of his body so close to mine, the feeling sends a shot of electricity up my spine.

“So… I’ve been to a few breakfast places around Bondi, but I’m sure you know that
one
elusive little hole-in-the-wall café that does the best breakfast right?” Tom again cuts into my thoughts.

“Um… if you hadn’t noticed, breakfasts are kind of a big deal around Bondi. It’s as bad as lining u
p for one of the top nightclubs. Some places have half hour waits just for a table. So if I were to know an amazing hole-in-the-wall café, then so would everyone else unfortunately. There is just two of us though, so we shouldn’t have a problem getting a table somewhere. How about
you
be
my
tour guide and take
me
to your favourite place this morning? I haven’t had breakfast out for a while… occupational hazard you know!” Tom laughs at my attempt at a joke. I don’t know if he’s just being kind or he actually finds me funny.

“Well I have managed to find that most of the decent breakfast places are away from the beach… and the tourists.” Tom adds, “So I will take you to my local.”
 

Tom rolls out of his side of the bed and glides like a toy slinky towards the en-suite wearing nothing but a pair of blue and white striped cotton boxer shorts. His back is strong and forms a subtle ‘V’ shape from his waist. His physique reminds me of the old movie stars of the fifties or sixties, like Marlon Brando or Rock Hudson, with their naturally strong and very masculine frames, long before the trend of bulging muscles and steroid induced gym junkies.
They just don’t build men like that anymore.
What I wouldn’t give to run my hands all over Tom Smythe’s strong body right now! I breath deep and close my eyes while I sink back into the pillow and feel the pull in my lower region at the very thought of touching him. I jump out of bed and make my way to the main bathroom.

When Tom finally
reappears from the
bedroom, I too have showered and wait patiently out on the terrace.

“You are very efficient Miranda.
” 

I’m dressed back in my red skinny jeans and the white t-shirt that he purchased for me the night before. I’ve put on my emergency black flip flops that I always keep in my suitcase. I decided that rolling the legs of the jeans up will give myself a bit more of a daytime look. I also have my hair in a high bun, the way I usually wear it when I’m not working. Tom has on a pair of olive green pants that taper in at the bottom with a red and white striped v neck t-shirt, showing off a hint of his athletic chest underneath. He very much suits the Bondi area in his semi hipster attire. I just want to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him wildly. It takes every inch of restraint within me not to do so. Why does he have to make this so difficult when he booked me… a hooker… a
sex
worker!

“Ready then?”
 

He looks up at me when he’s finished tying the laces of his dark blue cons. The incessant pounding inside my head from way too much sangria last night ensures that I’m lost for words around Tom this morning. All I can conjure up is a nod to signify a ‘yes’. Tom smiles and turns toward the entrance to the penthouse. I struggle to keep up. Breakfast is really the last thing I feel like this morning. I slide my sunglasses over my red eyes before I have even stepped inside the elevator.

“Yes… I am a little dusty this morning Tom.” I say to his noticeable snicker at me wearing sunglasses inside,

“I told you… I don’t usually
drink that much.”

After our delicious
breakfast at the café,
Bondi
Picnic
, Tom follows me to the car park where Ben should be waiting for me in the Range Rover. I find it difficult to want to say goodbye to Tom when we return briefly to the penthouse, to collect my luggage. Again, I’m left with the feeling of wondering when I’m going to see this client that I’ve also become so fond of. I’ve had such a great night with Tom, a night unlike most bookings that I have to endure. I can’t remember the last time I’ve spent a night with a man without even laying a finger on him. If it wasn’t for the constant thumping inside my head at this moment, I would probably be sadder about leaving. Instead, I’m actually thankful for the hangover for once, and can only think of the comfort of my own bed at home.

“So I will call the Agency and book you again soon if you don’t mind Miranda? I really enjoyed your company last night… and this morning. You help take my mind off of a lot of things.” Tom finally speaks just before the elevator reaches its destination at the basement garage.

“Oh… I’m actually going to be away for a month. As soon as I’m back I will get Miss Stephanie to notify you.” Tom looks a little disappointed at my announcement.

“I hope you’re doing something nice with your time off?”

“Time off in itself is
something nice
.” I smile and slide into the open door of the Range Rover and onto the back seat while Ben takes my suitcase. 

Tom leans in the door and places a soft kiss on my cheek. I lose my breath for a moment and crave him to just kiss me passionately on the lips, like every other man wants to. He shuts the door and smiles his dazzling smile, causing my heart to skip a beat again. I smile and feel myself blush at the embarrassment of being so attracted to him. I wave back and sigh as we pull away.
If only
…   

CHAPTER
9

The key to
the front door of my apartment sings a familiar welcome home tune, as it squeaks into the lock. Flossy also comes bounding down the stairs, to the front of my apartment, and joins the welcome home party with a flurry of meows. I stumble over the top of her eager smooching around my ankles, my hangover still incapacitating me from functioning properly.

“I know Flossy. I missed you too my baby. Just let me get in the door.”
 

I’m glad someone in this world misses me. Shutting the door behind me, I decide to find out who else in the universe is missing me by switching on my mobile phone for the first time in almost a week. The iPhone bleeps to life to tell me there are four voicemail messages in my message-bank service. I flop down on my eggshell blue velvet sofa, and reposition my favourite vintage cushions so that I’m comfortable and ready to listen to the messages waiting for me. Flossy leaps straight up onto my lap. Her thunderous purring vibrates throughout her entire body, an obvious sign that she’s missed me.

“There are four new messages…”
The anonymous female voice informs me. Two messages are from my outrageously gay boyfriend Charlie, one from Sally to tell me Flossy was fine, and one message from my brother Simon, telling me he’s back in the Middle East for the next three months for work.
That really bites!
I was hoping to see him on my time off. I dial Charlie’s number. He sounded like he was going to have a coronary if I didn’t call him back soon,
“Don’t make me track you down in whatever fancy hotel your rooting in for the night, you dirty stop out.”
was the last message he left on my voicemail.

“Oh! She fucking breaths!”
Charlie’s high-pitched voice screeches down the phone at me.

“Hello Charlie. I’ve missed you. I have a rotten hangover. Be gentle. Can you bring me something like Barocca please?”

“What… like Barocca? Don’t you have some poor unfortunate John that can do that for you?”

“Charlie. Stop yelling. Please. Need help… I love you.” I try my best to tell my precious gay friend what he needs to hear.

“Very well. I’ll get you a hangover juice from Flat White on the way to your place.”

“What would I do without you?”

“Who fucking knows doll!”
The line drops out.

I’m guessing my Charlie has just abruptly ended the call, as he always does. I struggle to press the buttons on the remote to bring my sound system to life, my arm droops back down by my side as Radiohead’s
Karma Police
hums from the little pyramid Bang and Olufsen speakers scattered around my apartment. The music has a medicinal potency over my fragile state of mind, and I drift off to sleep with my grey fluffy cat blissfully curled up on my lap.

“Wow doll!
You look like you’ve been fucked
all night… hang on… you probably have!” Charlie hovers above me, rudely ripping me from my pleasant slumber. Luckily for him, he is baring my much needed hangover drink. I will save the beheading for yet another day.

“Do you always have to be crude about my chosen profession?” I grab the foam takeaway cup from the tray in Charlie’s hand and gulp it’s contents down in one quick breath, “Oh my goodness… You have no idea how much I needed that!” I splutter as I exhale.

“So tell me. What type of man orders an escort and then gets her drunk? What use are you then huh?” He sits down delicately on the floral armchair along side me and grabs the remaining takeaway coffee cup in the tray. 

Charlie looks his usual smart self in his dark grey suit with a light blue shirt and pink and purple paisley tie. My gorgeous little Italian friend is always dressed immaculately, even to go to the gym. I do notice the unfamiliar addition of more than a
five o’clock shadow across his face. Being the marketing manager for one of the top restaurants in Sydney sees that Charlie is constantly well groomed, and never has a hair out of place on his short black head of hair.

“What’s with the beard?” I start to wonder if I’ll regret asking as soon as the question has left my lips.

“It’s for the up coming
bear
pool party at Cook and Phillip Park. Wait for it… you will love the name… it’s the annual
Wet Fur Party
.” He raises his perfectly manicured eyebrow at me with great amusement. 

Charlie has recently discovered his love for a niche community amongst the gays known as ‘bears’. Consisting of a group of heavy-set gay men who have full beards and their motto seems to be, the more hair encompassing their body, the better. Despite the fact that Charlie has recently affiliated himself with the movement, he is far from overweight or heavy-set and keeps himself well ‘manscaped’. I assume he enjoys the added attention he gets from attending these bear parties because of these characteristics.

“I love it! I love how your people are always making fun of yourselves, no matter what walk of life you may come from. So does this mean that you’ll never have a
back, crack and sack wax
now that you’re a bear?”

“Hell no doll! You know I’m way to pretty to do that to
myself. I’m happy staying a cub.”

“Cub? As in a baby bear?” I break
into fits of laughter, “Oh wow. Why am I never surprised with you Charlie?”

“Anyway doll face. I must head back to work. Do yourself a favour and get some more beauty sleep. We have an industry night on tonight. We’re showcasing some of our catering to clients down at the Opera House. I want you to come. I’ll pick you up at six and we’ll head down together. Then we’ll go for a night cap at our favourite afterwards.”

“Oh Charlie. I’d love to but I really just want to stay in.”

“I’m coming to get you at six. You
will
be ready… It’s no big deal. Just some good food and a nice view for an hour or so. Now off to bed sleeping beauty.” Charlie is already walking towards the front door before I’m able to argue any further. 

Such a bossy bitch sometimes
.
I tear myself from the sofa and stagger towards my bedroom… and finally to the comfort of my own bed. Flossy prances behind me and curls up on her usual spot at the foot of my bed. The familiar feeling of being back home again aids my speedy decent into a deep sleep.

I’m woken yet
again to the sight of a
disgruntled Charlie loitering over me,
“It’s ten past six! And you’re not even up or dressed!”

“Oh Charlie. I didn’t set an alarm. I’m sorry. I really have had a full on few days.” I struggle to focus on his lovely Italian face.

“Very well. I’ll be back around at nine then to take you for a late bite and a drink. I am
dying
to hear all about whoever it is that has done this to you.”

“Okay. I can do that. I promise I’ll be ready. Enjoy your night.”

Charlie rolls his eyes at my last statement, “
Gaah
… Industry bullshit. I really was hoping you would come to keep me amused with our usual bitchy comments about everyone there. It always makes the night so much more enjoyable. See you later doll.”

I’m pleased that I have a few hours to myself to reflect on the past six days of work. They were so unlike any other working block that I have experienced with clients, and I’m still not quite sure what to make of all of it. I head into the kitchen and turn on my Nesspresso machine to make myself a coffee. I take out a Ristretto pod and pop it into the top of the machine. The harsh angles of the pod’s shiny black casing immediately reminds me that the black diamond necklace is still sitting in my suitcase.
I forgot I had that!
I rush straight to my suitcases at the front door and wheel them into my bedroom. Launching the Prada bag onto my bed, I quickly unzip it open as fast as I can.
It was all a dream. It was all a dream.
I try and convince myself. Wildly flinging out the contents of the bag, I finally stop at the hard surface of the box. I feel myself frowning in frustration at the sight of the familiar box but I’m not ready to touch it, or even open it up to view the magnificent piece inside. I’m still so confused about the meaning behind it. Maybe I should tell Charlie about it later. Maybe a male’s perspective is what I need on this, albeit a gay male’s perspective. No. That is probably not a good idea. Or maybe it is? Maybe I should just sell it. It’s not like I need the money though. What if it’s stolen? I put the box on top of my dresser, deciding to just leave it again until I know exactly what to do about it. As I wander back into the kitchen, I decide to message Sally to see what she’s doing tomorrow for lunch. I guess she is probably the best person to talk to about this. I send a text message to her phone:

Are you keen for lunch tomorrow?

I continue pouring my long awaited coffee and tend to my grey furry friend who’s circling hungrily at my feet. Flossy hasn’t left my side since I walked through the door. I totter back into the lounge room with welcomed coffee in hand when my iPhone buzzes. The message from Sally reads:

Absolutely! I need to hear all about this new guy! Should we meet at the usual spot around 1pm?

I message back:

See you then. X

I already feel a sense of relief about my situation with the prospect of seeing Sally tomorrow. I finish my cup of coffee and head off for a shower, ready to meet up with Charlie.

Charlie rolls up
to the front of my building with a squealing halt in his Audi TT Turbo. He calls out to me as his electric window slides down, “How much per hour hot cheeks?” 

I quickly look around the vacant street to make sure none of my neighbours have heard him and shake my head as I sit myself down in the passenger seat of his black sports car.

“You couldn’t afford this sweetheart! A night with me is enough to make you never look at another man again!” I lean over and kiss Charlie’s hair covered cheek.

“Ha! Better put your window up before your tickets fly off love!” Charlie laughs obnoxiously as his car catapults swiftly down the street.

We manage to
find a park right outside our
favourite late night diner,
The Rocks Café,
in the old heritage area of Sydney known as The Rocks. The southern sloping angle of The Harbour Bridge is beautifully illuminated at the end of the street. It’s teeming with circling seagulls which is usual at this time of the night. Across the street the Modern Contemporary Art museum stands tall and proud on the water’s edge. The familiar sights give me a warm feeling, despite the cool wind that’s blowing straight of the harbour. The diner is a fabulous European style diner, and serves the best pasta in the city. We both walk towards our favourite booth at the front window and the happy young waitress bounds towards us with menus in hand. I already know what I’m ordering and so does Charlie. He rolls his eyes at me when he sees she has the menus in her hands.

“She never gets it does she?” Charlie tilts his head toward the waitress as she approaches us at the booth.
 

I shrug my shoulders to try and soften Charlie’s frustration with a giggle.

“Hi. Are you after coffee or would you like to see a menu?” The waitress asks her usual line of questioning.

“We’re going to eat, but we already know what we’re having thanks, so no menus required. We’ll have two of the Pumpkin and Ricotta Raviloi, and two glasses of Pinot thanks.” Charlie takes command as usual.
 

I’m completely used to Charlie’s controlling nature and for once, I quite like a man taking control, not that Charlie is very manly, but he’s my favourite man. The waitress politely smiles at us both as she bounces back off towards the kitchen, “Seriously doll. Does she not recognise us at all?”

“They obviously get a lot of customers in here.” I try and reason.

“But we’ve been coming here for how long now? Five or Six years… and we order the same thing every time!”

“Five years? Gosh has it been that long already? Where has the time gone? Have I really been in the sex industry for five years?” I say, feeling a little sorry for myself.

“Yes madam. We came here the night you told me about what you were doing for work. Remember? We were over the road at the MCA for the launch of that god-awful handbag collection with the company I was working for at the time. You were so so young back then! I could have died when you first told me that you were prostituting yourself. You are so not the type!”

“What
is
the type? The game is not the same any more. The girls aren’t your usual stereotype of ratty looking streetwalkers, with crazy track marks up their arm and a controlling pimp hiding out around the corner. It’s not like that in this city anymore. It’s all legal now, so there’s no reason to hang out on the street waiting for the next
John
to give you his left over change for a head-job!”