Her eye shadow was almost the same colour as her skin, just enough of a contrast to be noticeable. Her comeliness took his breath away and stole any words he had from his mouth.

The restaurant was indeed a fine place, carrying two Michelin stars to its name. Elizabeth chattered on, her excitement had not abated at all. It was so unlike their previous engagements, Robert didn’t know really, what to say. He was content to allow her to flit from subject to subject while he drank in her face and drowned in emotion.

Eventually, she noticed that his responses were less than garrulous. She wrinkled her brow, tilted her head a little and asked "Are you okay Robert?"

It was an almost comical expression.

"What? Oh yes, miles away and happy to listen to you."

"You’re very quiet, is anything wrong? Concern wrinkled her brow even more and made him smile.

You’ll get stuck like that." His smile broadened. How could he tell her that he loved her, totally? How could he, someone who had next to nothing, other than the working parts of his body, to offer her? Someone who screwed women for money, just a cheap whore really?

Perhaps his emotions and thoughts were transparent, she knew straight away, now that she had calmed down that the look Robert was studying her with was not one of mild curiosity. She leaned back in her chair opposite him with the table and remnants of their meal between them as an effective barrier.

"We need to talk Robert, but not here." She waved the waiter over and settled the bill. With nothing more said, she rose from the table, expecting Robert to follow her lead.

They got into the car silently with only her telling the chauffer "Home".

Shortly, they were driving through the security gates to Saint Georges Hill Estate. Robert dully took in the houses and mansions that populated the exclusive real estate built around one of the best golf courses in the country. Her red-brick home had its own gravel drive in a U shape behind a copper beech hedge that was just big enough to hide the house from the road. The front lawn and shrubbery was immaculate.

"I won’t need you anymore today Frank". She told the driver. The car moved off, tyres crunching on the gravel, leaving them at the steps to the front sandstone portico entrance. The door was not locked.

Polished wood panelling formed the entrance hall. A light oak stair spiralled up in a sweeping arch from centre of the flagstone floor of the entrance hall, up to the first level and out of sight. She dropped her bag on the occasional table that lent against the right side of the ornately worked hall.

She walked toward a door in the panelling, again, expecting him to follow. The drawing room was also panelled, but using white ash rather than the oak of the entrance hall. It made the room bright. A huge inglenook fireplace in red brick and a huge piece of oak as an over mantle dominated the room with a cast iron grate on top of the hearth, which was also of brick. The floors were polished light oak. The furniture looked almost accidental, but was obviously chosen to compliment the room. She sat on the green leather chesterfield and patted the space beside her.

"Robert..." She began. Her eyes bored into his with a steady gaze. "... I told you once, not to fall in love with me. Do you remember that?"

"Yes." He nodded as if to reinforce his affirmation, but his heart thumped in his chest. This was a moment of truth with a dubious outcome and his uncertainty was clearly evident.

"I meant it Robert, my life does not allow for affairs of the heart." Her eyes softened.

"We are not so dissimilar you and I. We are both playing a part, you as a male escort and me as a trophy wife. Neither of us is supposed to have feelings or emotions, just be part of the trappings and providing a service." She turned slightly and took his hands in hers. "My husband and I have been married nearly ten years now. In all that time, he has never once touched me. We have separated bedrooms, separate lives even. He prefers the company of men, but for decorum’s sake and the honour of the family, married me. We pretend to be the perfect couple socially, but nothing could be further from the truth. I shut up my feelings a long time ago and mostly drift from day to day with nothing more in my head than what to wear."

He rubbed his thumbs over the back of her hands, just a small gesture of soothing.

"Elizabeth... I know I am supposed to be dispassionate and all that. Mostly, I can be and have been in my short career, but then I met you. I can’t forget how you cried in my arms in Paris. You sobbed as if your heart was broken and you seemed so alone. I wanted to be there for you, protect you and love you. You were like a perfect bird in my arms, frightened and helpless and I just wanted to protect you."

"In another life, that would be perfect." She withdrew her hands from his and got up. "We cannot go on like this Robert. It was a mistake on my part, to call you again and I am sorry for that. I think it best that we not meet again, it is too painful." She turned away from him and faced the fire place. "I’ll call you a cab to take you home." Her shoulders hitched a little. "I’m sorry Robert."

He saw and heard her distress. Before he knew it, he had risen and grasped her in his arms, turning her to face him. Her tear filled eyes rose to meet his. He kissed her full on the lips, pulling her body into him. "I love you." He murmured into her mouth. "I love you so much."

"Don’t." She tried to say, but his mouth covered hers. Her will power fell away at his embrace. She gave into him and held him as tightly as he held her.

Later, when they had made desperate love on top of her bed and lay naked, holding one another, Elizabeth, soaked his chest with her tears while he stroked her head smoothing her hair gently with his finger tips. He didn’t know where this was going to go from here, but he knew he wanted her in his life. His own doubts clouded any rational thinking. What could he give, other than his love? Their sex was amazing, filled with passion and tenderness, but if that was all he had, then he knew it wouldn’t be enough.

Eventually, she dozed, still with her head on his chest. He felt her relax gradually and become heavier. He may not be able to bring much, but this was all he wanted. Just to have her in his arms was enough for now. Still worried, he fell asleep.

It was much later when he woke. It was full dark outside. He wondered what the time was but didn’t want to wake her to look at his watch. Elizabeth was snoring slightly, her hair tousled, lay across his shoulder, obscuring her face with a haze of blonde. Robert felt a physical ache just looking at her. It hurt to take her in, to feel so at ease, but at the same time, knowing that it would end when she woke.

As if she knew he was watching her, her eyes opened, she regarded him, silently, giving nothing away, her usual professional demeanour stared back at him.

"What are we going to do Robert?" She searched his face as if looking for the answer. "Sooner or later, things will go bad between us and I couldn’t bear that." She pushed up from his chest and turned her back as she sat on the edge of the bed.

He ran his finger tips up over her spine. She shivered and goose bumps arose on her skin.

"Robert, please..."

"I don’t know Elizabeth. It is pretty much up to you what happens from here on. I don’t want to lose you, but you have more to lose than I do." He got up from the bed and headed to the toilet.

"I need some time to think Robert. Can we leave it at that for now?"

"Sure."

She called him a cab which arrived after a ten minute wait. Nothing was said, the balance of the situation too delicate for very much for words. She kissed his cheek and opened the door for him. "I will call you. Take care."

His goodbye was almost cut off with the closing of the door.

The next few days passed without a phone call. Robert worried that she wouldn’t call. With time on his hands to think, he realised that she had not told him how she felt. She hadn’t said she loved him and he began to convince himself that it was all him, all one sided. He didn’t have her number. He knew where she lived, but he wasn’t going to hang around the house in the hope that she would come out and see him, besides, the security on the gate wouldn’t allow him in.

Amber called him on Tuesday with his next assignment, planned for that weekend. He would be escorting one of her regulars to a party and to be ready by eight o’clock on Saturday evening. Dress was to be smart casual.

"So, you’re the wonder boy in Amber’s stud farm then are you?" He was still standing at the threshold of the door to the hotel room of his Saturday’s assignment. "Amber tells me you have boosted her business no end. I’m not surprised. Finding decent men to fill her books is never easy. Christ on a stick, finding a man of any sort is hard enough."

Jean, for her age, was trim and carried a confident poise in her bearing. Her clothing was expensive, without being ostentatious or too obvious. She had spent a large part of the day n the beauty salon, getting ready for this evening’s soiree at Lady something or other’s garden party. Robert had chosen a simple blazer of slacks and an open necked shirt from his now, seam bursting wardrobe.

She picked up her purse, took his arm and waited while he opened the car door for her. She chatted on about this and that while he thought she was just another wealthy business woman, from a long chain of the same, who had made their career their lover.

The party passed Robert by. Being on duty, as it were, he limited himself to one glass of champagne and only nibbled at the array of treats being passed around by an army of waiters. And then, it was time to leave. He wasn’t sure that he could live up to the billing Amber had labelled him with and fretted a little on the way back.

Jean was quite tipsy. Fortunately, she was a happy drunk and giggled as she fumbled her pass at the electronic lock of her suite.

"I suppose you are going to take advantage of my drunkenness now, aren’t you?"

"Well, the thought had crossed my mind." Robert fell into the role immediately. It was obviously her little foible and not an uncommon one, to be taken, defenceless, in her drunken condition, by a virile man. It was a role he had played before with minor variations. He stepped in close to Jean, invading her space and leaving no room in which to manoeuvre. He put his arms around her and deftly unzipped her dress while looking intently into her eyes, holding them captive while he undressed her. Then, as she stood in bra and panties, he grasped the back of her head, scrunching up her carefully manicured hair and kissed her mouth forcefully, taking her breath away. This was exactly what she had wished for. She melted in his arms and clung to him to stop herself from falling bonelessly to the floor.

He picked her up, realising that she weighed a lot less than he had thought. The steps to her bedroom were effortless. He dropped her on the bed and placed a flat palm on her chest in a silent instruction to stay exactly as she was until he allowed her to move. She stared as he efficiently removed his clothing and slipped a condom onto the bedside cabinet ready for later.

"What..." He put a finger to her lips, stopping any questions. It proved to be an effective gag and was just as insistent a command as if he had told her to keep quiet. Obediently, she lay on her back and made no move as he slipped her bra straps off her shoulders while his stare bored into her head. Her breasts, when they were finally free of their lacy prison, had just enough firmness to them, that they remained erect and pointed at him enticingly. He hooked his thumbs into the waist band of her panties and eased them over her hips and knees, then off over her feet.

He gripped one of her breasts and rubbed the nipple under his thumb, trapping it against the side of his hand. She made a little moue and gasped at the sudden stimulation. It hardened and darkened at his ministrations. He had not broken eye contact while he excited her teat. He placed his other palm on her stomach, just above her vee with just enough pressure to let her know it was there. Slowly and with consummate skill, he slowly touched her lips, parting them so that he could get to her clit with just a finger tip. Her legs opened just enough to allow the intrusion. Her back arched at his touch, an invitation to take her fully. Robert finger fucked her gently, but forcefully. He would not be denied his prize and there was nothing she could do about it.

She came noiselessly, a knuckle in her mouth to stop from crying out. Robert knelt up, taking his fingers from her moist pussy and pushed them into her mouth so that she could taste herself. Jean sucked at them like a drowning man might for air, savouring her own juices as they passed over her taste buds.

Again, he took hold of her head and with gentle by firm strength, pulled her mouth to his semi-hard cock. He didn’t give her a choice. She was to suck him while he finger fucked her again. She came a second time, much quicker and gasped around his cock between her lips. Satisfied that she was ready, Robert reached over for the condom, and then slipped between her knees which parted with no resistance. It was going to be the missionary position, but that was alright and allowed him to play with her nipples and coax her to yet another orgasm.
This time, her orgasm was not silent. She cried out as the waves crashed through her synapses and her body gave of its self, her own essences to mix with those of his. Robert came inside her and enjoyed the sensation more than he had for quite some time, closing his eyes as his ejaculate spurted over and over.

"Wow!" Was all she said.

They lay together for a while, cuddled replete, on top of the bed until Jean fell asleep. Quietly, Robert extricated himself, dressed and left her to her dreams. His mission accomplished.

Amber called him on Monday. Apparently, Jean had been on the phone full of his praises. The cheque was in the post with a little extra and perhaps, she should try the object of praise for herself. It was jokingly said, but Robert thought that, if he made the move, Amber would jump at the chance. He decided not to, things were complicated enough as it was without adding another to the equation.

That equation though, had a variable in it that he could not influence. Elizabeth never left his mind and he yearned for her call, but was disappointed each and every day.

Over the course of a month, Jean had engaged his services twice more without even the excuse of needing an escort to a function. She wanted him for sex and was quite brazen about it. Robert had to refuse a third liaison and explained to Amber that he thought Jean was getting hooked up on him. It was amber that had to break it to Jean, that it had run its course and Robert would not be available.

Before he knew it, it was Christmas, the middle of winter and Elizabeth still hadn’t called him. Six months had flown by, but the longing had not diminished. He was just getting used to the fact that she wouldn’t call again. The realisation altered his life a little. If he couldn’t have her, then almost any woman who hired his services would do. Amber was delighted by this turn around. Wasn’t it only a few months ago that he was full of self doubt? Now she had a young man willing to fuck anyone, almost, and most definitely was the star of her portfolio. She bought him a Rolex watch for Christmas. After all, he had earned it, several times over.

And then, another Christmas came. A whole year of Escort services had passed where he was out almost every weekend and a few weekdays in between. He had managed a holiday in the Costa Del somewhere and had celebrated his twenty eighth birthday. He had fucked his way through a whole year and had lost count but made more than enough money in the bargain. Amber and he decided to go out for dinner on Christmas Eve, somewhere swanky and expensive. It might not have been an engagement, but both knew they would end the night, locked in each other’s bodies. It was a satisfying night and both had got what they wanted from the coupling. Amber had wondered what her clients were enthusing about and was pleasantly surprised that Robert could play her body until she gasped and writhed under him. Robert enjoyed her and satisfied a mild curiosity about how she looked under her clothing.

He spent Christmas day with his parents. He was dismayed to see how frail his father had become and realised that he would not be around for very much longer. His mother seemed as robust as ever, but would probably crash when dad died. He would try and be there for her, she would need him as a crutch he knew.

He got home Boxing Day with the mortality of his parents on his mind. The flat, newly bought from the proceeds of his profession, was silent and cold as he closed the front door behind him. Suddenly, as if running into a wall, Robert felt desperately lonely. It hit him with no warning. He wailed forlornly and sank to his knees as tears soaked his cheeks. The realisation that, apart from screwing untold women and having Amber as his agent, he was completely alone, with no-one he could talk to or love or just be a part of. What friends he had had, were all gone now, too many times he had dates that coincided with their plans for parties and get togethers. He hadn’t spoken to Lucy, his ex-girlfriend, for eighteen months now. She was in the process of planning her wedding the last time he saw her and was deliriously happy. He envied her now, but hadn’t at the time. He could not see a future that involved anyone else. He had nothing to look forward to and that is what hit him the hardest.

Amber picked up on the third ring and realised immediately, that there was something terribly wrong. Twenty minutes later, he was in her arms sobbing. She had driven over, breaking several traffic laws in the process and left her bewildered boyfriend without explanation.

Somehow, between sobs, Robert poured out his heart to Amber, telling her about his parents, Lucy and the sense of loss he had. He told her of his love for Elizabeth and just how lonely he was. She soothed and comforted and shared a bottle of scotch with him until he settled down to sleep at last. Then she broke several more traffic laws in driving home with a plan in her head.

"Robert, I have an assignment for you, a New Year’s bash on the Thames. My client wishes to meet you at the boat at nine thirty. Are you up for it? I know its short notice, but she is desperate. Will you do this for me?"

Nine thirty on the thirty first of December found him standing on the pontoon at Westminster Pier. The river cruiser was already packed with revellers. The drinks had been flowing for more than an hour and the beat of music bounced off the rippling river surface and echoed off the embankment wall.

He glanced at his watch, wondering if his mark was going to be fashionably late. It is one of his pet hates, something he saw as just plain rude and disrespectful. Robert looked up from his watch, up the ramp towards the pavement and there she was.

Elizabeth stood clutching her purse, wearing a draped, electric blue dress with a cross over plunge neckline and the front gathered at the front so that the hem line was drawn up to around mid thigh. Robert’s jaw dropped. If it was possible, she looked even more beautiful than the last time he had seen her. His heart lurched and those emotions, he had desperately tried to cover up, came to the surface in an overwhelming wave. He swallowed a hitch in his throat and didn’t dare speak or move in case he suddenly began to cry.

Elizabeth walked down the ramp towards him, her face a study of concentration. She neither smiled nor gave any kind of emotion just a steady gaze into his eyes as she approached him, her heels clicking on the safety surface.

"Hello Robert, are you working?"

"Um... I was supposed to be meeting Cristal at nine thirty." Involuntarily, he glanced at his watch, but didn’t really register the time showing on the face. "I guess she is late."

"Tonight, I am Crystal and I am never late Robert. Shall we?" She grasped his arm and led towards the landing platform of the river cruiser.

The cruiser powered up to Chelsea Bridge and then all the way down the Thames to the flood barriers at Woolwich before turning around and returning upstream to Westminster Pier just in time for the countdown to two thousand and eleven. Neither of them noticed the passing city-scape or the chill of the December night as they sat, away from the party, at the prow of the cruiser and talked.

Robert, although he meant to keep his feelings covered, found himself telling her of his desperation over the last eighteen months. How he had tried to replace his emotions by throwing himself into his work and failing miserably. Instead, he had sunken into a kind of depression that even his holiday to Costa Del whatever had not relieved. Elizabeth listened intently, offering sympathetic murmurs and gestures as he spilled out his heart.

All too soon, the cruiser made berth and the chimes of Big Ben heralding the New Year. They walked arm in arm with no particular direction, avoiding the, mostly drunk revellers who sought to make their way home by whatever means they could.

Few places were open, but the McDonalds in The Strand were still serving. Robert and Elizabeth found a seat and drank the awful coffee and stared at each other, their thoughts held in check, conversation had ground to a halt temporarily where emotions were just too raw to dare sharing thoughts. The silence stretched while the coffee coagulated in the Styrofoam cups.

"Amber called me." Elizabeth broke the spell. "I wasn’t sure you would see me, it’s been so long." She searched his face, trying to read his expressions and waited for him to respond.

"Amber has been good to me. I guess I have been good for her business. She did her best to look after me. I’ve been a bit of a mess I suppose." He glanced away and looked at his feet. "I’ve missed you so much Elizabeth, so much." He didn’t dare look up to see her reaction, fearing that she might recoil, but knowing he needed to tell her how he felt. He needed to bare his soul while he had the chance. "I love you Elizabeth and I can’t help it."

Elizabeth was silent and sat still on the opposite side of the table. Her stare studied the top of his head where he would not look up. She waited and the silence stretched out for several minutes until he at last looked into her eyes. She could see his fear. Feel his pain and was very aware of the effort he was making to keep himself in check.

"I had an abortion you know." She didn’t know why she told him, hadn’t thought about it before she spoke. "My husband made me. He forced me to go to a clinic to abort a child. We split soon after that. I was no longer needed. He replaced me with another bimbo." She stared at him steadily.

Robert realised that, up until now, they had talked solely about him and how he had been miserable, by comparison, his ordeals palled into insignificance and he suddenly felt very selfish.

"Oh Elizabeth, I am so sorry to hear that. I’m sorry, I’ve been bleating on about my problems and all the while you have suffered worse, much worse." He reached across the table and gripped her hand as if to reinforce his concern.

"I always knew I was a trophy wife and that my time of sitting on the throne had a limited life span, but I thought having a child would have altered things. I thought, perhaps, that he might settle down, might even grow to love me. I was wrong on so many counts. He forced me to have the abortion, threatening to throw me out and cut me off completely. I suppose I knew that it wasn’t going to be forever so had saved some money in a private account. It isn’t much, but with the allowance he gives me, I am getting by and I have a job now."

"A job, doing what? I can’t imagine you working"

"I’m not screwing my way through life Robert." She said defensively. "I’m PA’ing for a magazine editor, someone I’ve known forever. He took pity on me and gave me a job. Bob is a real treasure."

Robert was suitably stung and apologised. "It’s just that I believed you to be above working for a living. You are so beautiful, so regal even, that I didn’t think."

"Being a trophy wife is very much like working for a living Robert. You can’t slip up in anyway. Appearance, manner, even playing host and geisha girl to his cronies is no different to being a secretary or something. The worst is being shared with his business friends and clients. It was one of those who got me pregnant. You at least, have the luxury of choosing who you screw. I didn’t have that choice and what’s worse, he enjoyed watching me and god help me if I didn’t please. He beat me if he didn’t get the deal." She shrugged her shoulders as if throwing off a coat. "Let’s get out of here." She stood, not waiting for Robert to agree.

Robert hailed a cab and gave directions to his apartment.

Later, when they had drunk a glass of wine and told each other of the last eighteen months, came the moment where by mutual agreement made by silent recognition that talking had run its course for now. That their stories had rubbed emotions to a raw state and the solace of physical act would begin the healing process.

They made love. Not an animal coupling of wild desire. No master and mistress scenario. No tricks, just a coming together of two people, too long denied the freedom of expression, too long guarding their emotions and too long alone in a busy world.

Elizabeth cried when they eventually lay back exhausted. She cried and then sobbed into Robert’s arms, the release all too much to be held inside. Robert found himself crying, tears tracking over his cheeks. At last, he was able to give his heart and know that it had found a home, where it belonged.

Epilogue.

Robert shoved the pushchair around the supermarket while Adam toddled in front of him, the reins of his harness attached to the handle, his sister gurgled happily in the crib of the walker. The two children had come quickly. Adam was almost three and had already adopted the same regal aloofness of his mother, but his looks were pure Robert. Eveline was fair and would probably grow to look like Elizabeth. The choice of names had been careful. The children were a new beginning to their lives, Adam and Eveline was a perfect choice.

Frozen peas and a packet of sweetcorn hit the bottom of the trolley Elizabeth was pushing. They briefly discussed the merits of frozen fish, coated in breadcrumbs and decided against it.

Saturday shopping was becoming a ritual, a family thing, simple, but so enjoyable. Perhaps a mundane activity, but nothing they did together could be construed as humdrum.

Robert was now a minor executive for a music publishing house, promotion was within his grasp. Although he hadn’t completed his degree, his knowledge of historical music and the easy manner he had while explaining the concepts had impressed his boss. That and his natural good looks had struck a chord with Jacqueline, who blushed a little during his interview. Her thoughts were held private, to her credit, but her reactions of crossing and uncrossing her legs signified her attraction to him. Robert, although aware, ignored it. He was happy and then delighted that he got the job. Eveline was the result of their celebration.

He kept in touch with Amber, but withdrew his services as an escort. She understood, but several of her regular clients would have preferred he stayed. Their combined generosity at his wedding was overwhelming and unexpected. Amber’s wedding present of a car had been more than generous, but the choice showed her sense of humour. A shiny red Ford Escort stood outside in the car park. Amber had accepted the role of God Parent to Adam and would likely do the same for Eveline.

The grandparents somehow continued to cling to this mortal coil. Perhaps the delight of the children gave them a second lease of life. They instantly loved Elizabeth when she and Robert visited to announce their intention to marry. Robert’s dad even flirted a little and surprised them all.

Elizabeth was shortly to return to work following her maternal break. They would have liked for her to stay at home, but their finances were getting depleted rather too quickly. Her income was necessary.

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