Page 76 of Role Play
Forrest’s roller pauses mid-stroke. “He doesn’t know the details. Just that I work in ‘client services’ in the city.”
“That’s not technically a lie.”
“No, but it’s not exactly the full truth either. I think he knows I’m lying, but he doesn’t push. As long as my career supports Dakota, he doesn’t care. Fatherhood is something he takes very seriously. If he thought I wasn’t taking care of my daughter, he might get on a plane for the first time in his life, and try to belt me.” He snickers as he resumes painting, his movements more deliberate now, like he’s trying to get the job done.
“Speaking of your career…I’ve been meaning to ask you something that’s been on my mind. How many women have you slept with? For work, I mean.”
The silence that follows makes me regret the question immediately. I sneak a glance at him to find him staring at me, paint roller suspended in midair.
“That’s what you want to know?” he asks finally.
“If you’d rather not answer, I completely understand.”
He returns to painting, though his strokes are more measured now. “I don’t keep count. That would be weird.”
“So a lot, then,” I press, not sure why I’m torturing myself with this line of questioning.
“Not as many as you probably think,” he says carefully. “A lot of clients just want company. Someone to take to an event, make an ex jealous, be arm candy at a business dinner.”
“But some want more.”
“Some do, yes.” He looks at me directly now. “Is this going to be a problem? Because if it makes you uncomfortable thinking about what I do?—”
“No,” I say quickly. “I’m not judging you. I’m just curious. I’m a writer. I ask people questions, that’s all.”
He looks unconvinced but doesn’t challenge my flimsy excuse. “It’s not like I’m out there every night with a different woman.”
“Do you have regulars?” I inquire.
“Only Celeste.” He cocks a brow. “Which, like I told you, is strictly non-physical.”
Something tight in my chest loosens at that revelation, which I immediately scold myself for. I have no right to feel relieved.
“What about you?” Forrest asks, clearly trying to turn the tables. “What’s your number?”
I nearly drop my roller. “I’m not telling you that.”
“Why not? You just asked me.”
“And you didn’t answer,” I argue.
“I made an attempt. I told you, I don’t keep count.”
I sigh dramatically. “Fine. Three. Happy?”
“Three?” He sounds genuinely surprised. “Serial monogamist, huh?”
“Is that so surprising? Some of us actually need a connection before we jump into bed with someone.”
“And yet you were ready to jump into bed with an escort you’d just met,” he points out.
Heat floods my face. “I was high. And it wasn’t sex, I just wanted to…” I’m not sure how to finish that sentence without making things more awkward. I just liked how he took me out of my head. He turned the worst night of my life into one of the best and I wanted to hold on to that feeling. I thought the only way he’d stay with me is if money were exchanged.
“Wanted what?” He pauses painting, and blinks at me.
“Nothing. Forget it.” I focus intently on the wall in front of me.
“No, now I’m intrigued.” He sets down his roller and walks over to me, paint-flecked arms crossed. “What did you want, Sora?”
