Yours,

I had five minutes to prepare myself.

I slipped the phone into my pocket, and went into the bathroom one more time. I’d cut myself shaving, and I knew he’d be annoyed. It reminded him of my age, my inexperience.

I poured a coin of toner into my hand, and applied it, massaging the elixir into my face, stimulating the skin around my eyes. He’d told me that when he gave me the toner. Told me I had to take proper care of myself, knew that nobody else would tell me. Lotion next, followed by aftershave. He insisted I wear this when we meet. His stamp, his brand. A scented tattoo. Copal and sandalwood.

I was pretty now, the way I ought to be. The cut on my face no longer weeping. A perfect, porcelain face. Thank God. Needed to smile though. Turn that frown upside down.

I took a deep breath and readied myself. I’d been here before; this was nothing new. I took a last look at the little black notebook on my desk, checked the rest of my shifts for the week. I had to call them that now, in case he asked questions like last time. My shifts. I smiled. Shift work, to pay off a few debts. That was all.

He was waiting outside, car parked. Smoking a cigarette. It didn’t matter that there were double yellows, not to him. He didn’t smile as I approached. Didn’t acknowledge me at all. I fought the urge to turn around. Soften your face, it’s all in the eyes. Smile with them. He stood there, sucking the cigarette into his lungs, slow, smouldering. If only he knew. He didn’t open the door. I got into the passenger seat. He stood there, a feathery miasma sighing from his mouth. I waited, didn’t look at my phone. I’d learned now, what he liked. My attention, my submission to him. Patience, count his buttons instead.

“You kept me waiting.” He said, ducking into the car, and sitting down. He made no attempt to fasten his seatbelt.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t check my phone.”

He closed the door. “Kiss me.”

I did as he asked, a simple transaction, but one protracted by him. His tongue against mine, gently biting his lip. It only lasted a few seconds, a tête-à-tête between tongues. I tasted his herbal, ashy breath as he sighed and withdrew.

“We’ll get drinks.”

I nodded.

He drove, his left hand on the steering wheel. His right hand on my thigh, occasionally glancing up to my face. Fingers curled slightly into my skin, nails warning my flesh not to resist.

We were in the car for long enough. Amber streetlights, as phosphor matches in the mauve gloom of the city, coal mountain backdrops. Several times, I considered opening my mouth, but several times I found myself holding back. Kept my eye on the streets as we drove. A simple exercise in self-preservation that came with the territory.

We pulled into the carpark of a hotel. We’d come here the previous time, and it was a nice hotel. I could tell he’d liked it. Liked the way the staff made sure to call him sir. It was only a matter of time before he’d insist on that with me, but hopefully before that-

“You’re quiet tonight.”

“Mm. I am.”

“How was work this week? Still spinning your wheels teaching?”

“Yes. How was your week?”

That was all it took, he smiled now. Keep him talking, it’s easier that way.

“We pushed through that deal. Remember the one I told you about last week? Yellow bastards. Kept trying to drive the price down, so we threatened to call off talks. They came round quickly after that. Just like I told you they would.”

“I remember.”

“Everything’s finalised, so we’ll celebrate, you and I. You must be excited?”

“Of course. I’m happy for you.”

“You don’t sound it?”

“I am, really!” I said, covering his hand in mine. “Honestly, it’s great news.” Should I lean in for a kiss?

“I haven’t told Lara yet.”

I stuck to squeezing his hand.

A pause, “You smell good.”

Of course I did.

Naturally the hotel had valet parking, and as we handed over the keys, I saw him slip a crisp note into the man’s hand. I said nothing, but he was generous. We collected the keys in the lobby, and went straight into the bar.

We took our seats in the corner, taut leather armchairs, with a polished wooden coffee table between us. The waiter handed us menus. I looked at the drinks. I say looked, but that was just a formality.

“You must try this whiskey,” He said, “we had some in Shanghai. I meant to order you some last week, but you know. Thursdays aren’t a good day for that.”

“I’d love to!” I smiled, feeling my cheeks tighten, and forcing my eyes to follow suit.

The man across from me smiled back, a genuine smile breaking across the lines on his face. “You’ll like it, I think. It’s Japanese.”

He snapped his fingers in the air, to summon the waiter. When he was done ordering, he turned his attentions back to me. He appraised me, before his face slipped into a frown, “You cut yourself shaving,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “You need to take care of yourself. You told me you’d do better.”

I opened by mouth to reply, but he held up his hand, silencing me. I caught the words, and withdrew. He motioned for me to come closer, and started dabbing at my face with a napkin.

“Stop moving. I’ll clean you up.”

I nodded, staying still for as long as he wished. Quiet.

“Much better.” He sat back in his chair, let out a sigh.

I looked around, mahogany and brass décor. The hotel was tasteful, if not a little old fashioned. Rows of whiskey rested behind the bar, backlit and magmatic. I counted them.

“I’ll be going to Singapore next week, business of course.”

I nodded, “Yes, you told me. I remember you said you liked it there, the last time you went.”

A frown dotted his face, “No. That was the Maldives for our anniversary, next month. I haven’t spoken to you about Singapore, we only closed the deal today.”

“My mistake,” I laughed.

“Yes, it was.”

I avoided the temptation to look at my phone.

“It’s not been easy. I think she knows about us.”

He smelled like cough lozenges.

“You make things difficult. For both of us.”

Floral, cloying. Sick. Like a heart and lung ward. No.

Think about your scent. His copal and sandalwood.

Our drinks arrived. The whiskey tasted like aromatic ash, but I smiled, and offered my compliments. The right thing to do.

“I knew you’d like it. I can get you a bottle to take back with you later, if you like?”

“No, no. You’re far too generous.”

“Nothing’s too much for you.” His smile lingered just a second too long, and he realised it.

I quickly moved in to cover his mistake. “I’m lucky to have you. Thank you!”

“No, I’m lucky,” he said, “very lucky to have you.”

“Well, I’m all yours,” I said, “whatever you like.”

“You must say that to the others?”

“No, just you. You’re the only one.”

He smiled again, and his face became instantly nicer. Softer. He wasn’t unattractive really. Smoky features, eyes with sparks of copper. They tasted me, his aperitif.

We sipped our drinks for a few moments. He, turning his glass to the light, and inspecting the colour, clearly mulling, churning thoughts in his head as the amber grain roiled in the class. A firestorm in a teacup. Ready to burn.

It didn’t get better with successive sips, but I sighed in satisfaction as I ploughed through the drink. Usually, I could choose the next one.

There were a few minutes of silence, before he next spoke, “I wanted to ask you to come with me to Singapore actually. I think I would like you to come.”

That caught me off-guard.

“Lara isn’t coming, she doesn’t come on business. She’ll be taking care of the kids.”

“You could take the kids too?”

“No, you’ll come. I’ll be busy, but you can do what you want in the day.”

“I heard… you know… it was illegal there, for us?”

“We’ll just tell them I’m your dad. You’ll fly in business with me.”

“I’ll need to check my schedule. It’s a little late notice for work.”

He sighed, “I see.”

“Let’s get another drink, and take them up to the room? We can talk about it more privately there.” I suggested, “We’ll figure out an arrangement.”

He acquiesced, and paid for the bottle. “You can take it home.”

The room yawned open, empty like a marriage, yet inviting. Beyond the windows, the city rolled away from us. He carried the drinks, so I ushered him in, entombing us. There was a table and chairs in the room, but he simply moved the table to the bedside, and put the bottle and glasses down. Began taking off his shoes and socks. Soon, he’d be naked. Later, lonely.

“Well, now we’re somewhere more private,” he began, “let’s talk about next week.”

I joined him on the bed, but made no effort to take off my shoes. I knew that when he was ready, he would undress me. He liked that feeling, the dynamic of stripping away my outside world, making me his object, his inside world.

“I’m thinking you’ll say yes,” he said. “I think you’ll say yes, and you’ll come, and make me a very happy man.”

I smiled, and coyly shook my head, “I have shifts next week.”

“Money?” he asked.

“Being financially secure would certainly help.”

“I see,” said the man. At that he began to untie my shoelaces, ease the shoes off my feet. I didn’t resist. Instead, I sighed with orchestrated pleasure as he carried out the ritual. He laid his hand on my chest, “Kiss me.”

It went on longer this time. His tongue against mine. His saliva mixing with mine. His body inside mine. Wet, warm. His breath a Mediterranean sirocco. I felt his hand unbuttoning my shirt, his fingers striking against the skin on my chest. Grabbing, claiming, consuming. His whispers to me, as he painted himself onto me.

My body moved with his, caving into him, letting him touch, feel, stroke, grab. His body, not mine. For tonight anyway. I moaned on command, gave into his bruising pressure. Cough sweets, copal and sandalwood. I closed my eyes.

“Let me fuck you,” he said. It wasn’t a request, it was a contract.

I nodded, putting my hand into his pants, “Yes. Anything for you.”

“Then come with me to Singapore…”

“Yours,” I said, “I’m yours.”

He groaned, searing away the last of me, whilst I yielded to him.

I thought about the money, as he fucked me. Twenty grand for the month. The money, that shortly after midnight would be deposited into my bank account. Some things, you couldn’t buy, but you could pay for an imitation -and he’d paid. There’d be more if I said I’d go with him on that business trip. I thought back to my notebook. I’d just need to cross off a few shifts. Make space for him, my premium appointment. I led him pound into me, old and sad. The highest bidder, after all.