Page 61 of Their Courtesan
“Indeed I did. Well, I don’t know about your other clients, but I don’t mind you talking about your work. As long as I’m the best, of course.”
“Ofcourse.” Judith pulled her hair to the side before giving up and tossing it behind her shoulders. “You’re the best, Mr. Bolivar. Promise me you’ll keep bidding on this hot body so you can fuck me all over the world.”
“I will. I promise.” Money wasn’t an issue, right? Miguel would top a hundred grand if it meant getting to have Judith in his apartment on her weekends and taking her around the world for fun in the sun.She will be mine, or at least as much as she could be.There would be other men, as long as she kept working at the Château. Perhaps later on… they could come to some sort of agreement… if feelings…
Judith surprised them both by suddenly orgasming against Miguel’s stomach. It wasn’t a big orgasm, but it amused him greatly.
“Ah, shucks, Mr. Bolivar.” She hopped off him and bounced on the floor. “If you don’t mind, I would like to take a shower before turning in for the evening. You can join me, if you want.”
Miguel’s heavy eyelids were too much to resist. “You go on ahead. If you don’t see me when I get out, it’s because I wanted to take a walk and clear my head.”
“Which head?”
“Why not both?”
Judith kissed him before heading to her bathroom. “I’ll be about half an hour. And I’ll be horribly disappointed if you don’t share my bed with me tonight, Mr. Bolivar.”
“I’ll be here. Eventually.” Miguel waited until she had closed the bathroom door behind her before getting up and enjoying a little post-coital privacy. All he could hear was the shower running one room away and the ceiling fan whirling in the center of the bedroom.
He didn’t have a lot of opportunities to sit and admire her room. Judith usually took up his attentions, but as Miguel redressed in his shirt and trousers, he took special note of Judith’s tastes. The furniture was dark and rustic. Updated Victorian pieces. Soft browns and beiges to accent. Jewels littered her vanity. How many of those were gifts from clients over the years? Did she like the gift he had sent her?
Miguel turned around and stared at a painting hanging above her dresser.I don’t think I’ve seen that before.
It was Judith, nude and relaxed. At first Miguel assumed it was a commissioned piece of art, but the closer he inspected it, the more he recognized the intricate brush strokes and careful attention to detail. This wasn’t a piece done in a day because that’s what the client paid for. This was passion, pure and simple. Miguel had seen a million art pieces in his life. He could tell the difference between commercialism and passion.
“He’s a quiet, intellectual type.”The word “artist” had been on the top of Judith’s tongue.“He knows how to give it to me like you do.”
This was it. This was the other man. The other man who adored Judith enough to bid to be her patron.
Miguel searched for a signature. All he found were the initials “SC” emblazoned in gold in the corner. Not much to go on, not that he wanted too many details on a man he would probably never meet. Literally the only thing they had connecting them was the woman in the picture.She fucks the both of us. So what? He can obviously afford her too.
Yet he felt a twinge of jealousy. It was one thing when these men were hypothetical. When there was no emotional attachment involved. Women fucked many men. Women who did it for a living? Many, many men. All Miguel had ever asked was that they stayed clean and made time for him when he needed some company.
This was different.
Before he could face the feelings brewing inside of him, however, Miguel marched out of the room, determined to take that walk he thought of earlier. Judith was still in the shower. Hopefully thinking of him.
The hallway was empty. If he stopped and listened to the otherwise quiet environment, Miguel could hear the harried moans of another woman down the hall. He blocked it out soon enough, but decided not to go down that way. Instead, he veered left, remembering the large balcony at the top of the grand staircase.
It was warm outside. Warm enough for him to not bother buttoning up his shirt as he stood by the railing and watched the night quietly go by. Nobody was down in the labyrinth. The only signs of life came from the rustling of wildlife and the occasional maid passing in the hallway, ignoring the sounds of a pleasure house.
Miguel gripped the railing and inhaled the crisp mountain air. He thought he would be alone out there for the fifteen, twenty minutes he intended to enjoy it. It was a foolish thought, though, for it was only a matter of time before someone helped herself to his company.
“Are you all right, sir?” Miguel didn’t know who this was, but he recognized one of Judith’s coworkers.I can tell from her slinky dress and the expensive jewelry and perfume.The way she looked at him, as if he were a piece of meat with a wallet worthy of devouring. “You look lonely out here.”
Miguel stared at her wild, curly red hair before turning his attention back to the natural world beyond the Château. “I’m fine, thank you. Out for a stroll to get some fresh air.”
He hoped that would send her on her way, but she remained next to him. He knew he was in trouble when she leaned against the railing as well. “You must be Miguel Bolivar. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
His ears perked up. “Who is talking about me?”
“Judith, of course.”
“Of course. I’m sure she’s the only one.” Didn’t she go on about non-disclosure? Or was that only with other clients? “I hope it’s good things people are talking about.”
“Naturally.” The young woman pointed her breasts toward him.They are lovely, certainly.Not as big as Judith’s, but perky in the only way youth allows. “Don’t be hard on her, though. Word travels fast about every client around here. We’re all up in each other’s business.”
Miguel smiled, but didn’t say anything.Can’t I get some peace?He didn’t dare ask her to leave. That would be rude. Like her.
