Page 99 of Their Courtesan
“What do you mean you can’t go inside?” Judith stared at the throng of tourists lining up like they were going to an upscale club. Bouncers were telling them whether or not they could go in, based on how they were dressed.Yes, my lovely, we would have to go back to my apartment and dress for the occasion.That wasn’t the problem, though.
“No, citizens are not allowed into the gambling rooms. We can go everywhere else on the premises, but we’re not allowed to gamble.”
“What the fuck!”
“You could go, if you want. That restriction wouldn’t apply to you.” He grinned. “We would have to pretty you up first, though. By their standards, that is.”
“I don’t want to go by myself.” Was that a real pout or her playing up her skills? “It’s no fun if I’m not with you.”
“Then let’s go somewhere else.”
“Wait.” Judith popped out of the car and took a picture. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Chuckling, Miguel pulled back out onto the road. “What are all the pictures for?”
“I want pictures in case I never come back again.” Before Miguel could protest that line of thinking, she explained, “I take pictures of all the new places I go. Just in case, you know? I know you have good intentions, but what if I die before I have the chance to come back? I could die of pneumonia or get in a car crash or something.”
Miguel, stopped at a light, eyeing the surrounding automobiles and motorcycles with suspicion. “That’s… depressing. Let’s get out of here.”
They ate at Miguel’s favorite Monegasque restaurant for dinner. The place was on top of a building, an open-air abode with plenty of fauna growing from relocated earth and looking as if they were under a rainforest canopy. There were plenty of openings to see the sea and twinkling stars as they emerged. The temperature remained balmy, meaning Judith never had to cover up those beautiful arms or legs. Nor did Miguel bother with a jacket, even though he had one.
They ate. They drank. They told off-color jokes and debated the current gold standard. The great thing about Judith was that she knew how to have funandwas intelligent in the areas Miguel lived and breathed every day. She had opinions on Quentin Tarantino movies like she had opinions on the latest named CEO of this company and the rising stock prices of that company. Most of the latter she had learned from her clients over the past few years, but a lot of it was also self-study so she could be the perfect conversationalist. Miguel commended her on her abilities.
“The thing most of you clients don’t understand,” Judith began, on her third glass of wine, “is that I am as hardworking and clever as you lot who make billions playing a round of golf. I may not be a millionaire, but I have the skills to become one over the long term. I’m not talking about the sex, although that’s the major draw. Once I have you ensnared, I keep you by being witty, charming, and always surprising you.” She tossed her bushy hair behind her shoulder. “Come for the cunt, stay for the emotional turmoil I bring to your heart.”
Is she wrong?Miguel managed to smile, but inside he realized how much of a sucker he was. “I admit, it worked on me.”
“Of course it did! You’re one of the best clients from the beginning. You knew exactly what was up and what we were doing. You didn’t even pick me. My boss picked me for you, based on you saying what you wanted.”
“I only really told her one thing…”
She was still grinning. “Was she wrong?”
“No way. Although I’m glad there is so much more to you than that. Regardless of how I meet a woman, I rarely want to spend this much time with her.”
“The first since your Nigerian model girlfriend?”
“Perhaps.”I was thinking more like… since Rosa.He would never admit that, though. “I’m not the most social guy.”
She looked at him in disbelief. Or at least he was pretty sure it was disbelief. It could’ve been the three glasses of wine.
The wine was on his side. They walked back to his apartment, having walked to the restaurant in the first place.When it’s only a five minute walk away…That was the nice thing about a country the size of Monaco. He could walk anywhere in his tipsy, not fit to drive state. He wasn’t drunk, but he was also pretty sure driving was a bad idea, no matter how good he usually was. Instead, Miguel slung his arm around Judith and lumbered down the sidewalk with her, singing a common French children’s song – badly.
“Wait, how does that last part go again?” Judith asked as they entered the foyer of the apartment building. “It sounded dirty.”
Miguel had intended to keep things cleaner until later that night, but from the moment they entered his apartment, Judith was on him, stroking his chest, his hips, his damned cock as if she couldn’t wait to get him in bed. Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe she truly wanted him as much as he wanted her.
With wine in him, it was certainly easy to believe that.
Judith hopped off the ground, legs springing around his waist. Miguel held her tight against his chest, fighting back the endless urge to kiss her. It was more pertinent to get her to his bed. “Do you believe me?” he asked, lost in her color-changing eyes. “That I love you?”
“Dunno. How many languages can you say it in?”
“I love you.”
“That’s one.” They were in the bedroom, door barging open.
“Je’taime.”
