My Escort

Cheap!

I hug his wider back tightly, kissing his neck, sucking and biting it, my nails

deeply into his skin. Hungry creature I am, and my bodyguard seems to fancy

every bit of my perverse.

Red keeps pounding on me, deeper each time, slowly, then fast, again and again, his lips delicious on mine.

Oh God! I moan nonstop, rocking my waist, devouring this feel of long anticipation coming to reality. He doesn't stop.

My legs curl around him, and there I feel it, strong and wild— the current building in my stomach. I'm ready to erupt into shattered pieces. I scream loudly when I

come apart, and Red pulls out immediately, groaning.

As I lie back I feel like a different person. Red lies right beside me,coddling me in his embrace. I don’t want to talk, and he grants me just that. I wake at the faint commotion from outside. What a fancy town! I mentally sigh, trying to open my eyes.

My body feels hangover, but I don't think I drank much last night . . . did I? Oh, and why am I feeling sore?

I quickly bolt up and peek underneath the covers. f**k, I'm totally naked! Oh my

God! I didn't . . . Did I? Holy f**k! The memory of last night jogs back speedily. I had s*x with Red. I f****d him. No, he f****d me. Ugh, whatever!

Holy s**t! I cheated on Patrick.

I plop back in bed with my hand on the forehead. I take a deep breath and calm

myself down. Red is no longer here which gives me time to think. Yes, in this very same bed I did it last night.

"Oh God," I whisper, reliving every detail of the crime scene. And like a fool I smart smiling— blushing even -everything Crystal clear in my head.It was beautiful.

But you're a married woman, Mia! And he's your employee! Some voice snaps at me. I shriek inwardly. I've never cheated on Patrick and we've been married for eight years.

I'm freaked, but I do I regret? No, I don't. Now where is Red? I collect the big duvet to my chest and slowly clamber out of bed.

Oh yes, I can feel the aftermath of a good f**k as I walk.

My dress is on the couch, neatly placed. Smiling, I pace toward the window to regard the beautiful sunshine. The day has begun, and town folks are up and about. I lean onto the window frame, watching my car parked in the same place we did yesterday.

And suddenly Red appears into view, taking my breath away. He is with an old man, who seems to be the mechanic judging from his direct gaze toward the car.

They are talking while at it. I blush right away, watching Red taking his phone and show the old man something from it. I wonder what they're doing, but I'm pretty sure it has everything to do with the repair.

My phone buzzes out of the blue and I'm inclined to abandon the pleasure of ogling my bodyguard. Frowning, I follow the sound until I find my mobile.

My smile fades instantly at the caller's ID. It's my real husband. I pick up. "Patrick," I say unhappily. I hear some noises in the background until Patrick snaps, "What do you think you're doing, Mia?" His voice is deathly cold furious.

My body loses its momentum at Patrick's minacious words. "Wh—what do you mean?" I ask nervously, my heart beating out of rhyme. "You slept in some cheap hotel in the middle of nowhere!

Seriously, why do I feel like you're doing everything possible to annoy me lately? s**t! You should've stayed at home, Mia.

I've told you over a million times but no! You always find a way to defy me!"

Patrick barks nonstop.

As for me, a big sigh of relief escapes my lungs. It's just Patrick being Patrick; his unduly vanity is always unchecked. He simply hates anything cheap.

"I think you're exaggerating," I retort while squeezing the duvet tight to my chest so it doesn't fall. I take a seat on the couch.

"My car broke down and I needed a place to stay overnight while I wait for the mechanic to fix it." Patrick huffs and I can perfectly imagine his baleful look.

"You mean the piece of s**t that belongs to the third grade junkyard? What the f**k, Mia! I bought you two decent cars! f**k, why are you so obsessed with that trash?" he bellows with pure, undiluted contempt.

Well, that piece of s**t is the car I bought with my own money! I don't care about his f*****g Audi R8 or the BMW X7 . . . I'm so much in love with my baby that I feel hurt by his words.

"If you have called me all the way from Switzerland just to bad-mouth my car then I'll just hang up right this second and pretend I didn't hear your voice at all," I reply coolly, annoyed, my voice warning. Patrick backs off.

He knows I never bluff as far as our arguments are concerned. I hear him sighing out his frustration, heavily, and perhaps he's running a hand through his copper hair with faint grey strands.

"Fine," he says, and then sighs again. "Mia, let's sort this out, baby," he suddenly tells me, sounding desperate and lovelorn.

What the heck! A frown flits across my face. "Sort what?" My voice is sharp.

"This situation we're in, Mia. I feel like I'm losing you and it's driving nuts! f**k, I can't lose you, baby. I'd rather burn the whole world and disappear within than losing you!" Patrick snaps, panting.

Oh no. I feel the shrill in my heart at this proclaim of his; it’s somewhat eerie. I hold my tongue tight, unsure on how to respond.

"Look. When I come back home we can go on a vacation; just you and me, Mia. To the Bahamas, to Hawaii, or on a cruise to the Caribbean— just anywhere you want to be, sweetheart," he adds, and I swallow hard.

Maybe four months ago I'd be jumping with joy at the mention of any trip with him. I loved him that much, but now I feel nothing ensnaring about it. I can't even stand being in the same room with him, alone. Is it because I now desire another? I can't help but ponder, my mind blazed.

But no. It all began when I realized I'm not the only one he touches, he kisses, and even f***s. The day I learned of his infidelity.

Evidently I had my suspicion as any woman in marriage. But imagining and actually seeing with your naked eyes are unfortunately poles different. I stopped feeling needy of him, and even more when Red appeared.

Red filled the gap I didn’t know existed. His constant attention over my health, my security, my sleazy needs like a glass of water from the kitchen even when I choke with laughter while watching my favorite comedy movies.

Perhaps he’s just doing his job, as he usually quips. But still I can’t help feeling the sense of tenderness and sincerity in everything he does. He simply makes me feel like one in a million. Cheesy, I know.

"Mia, baby, talk to me!" Patrick demands quietly. I snap out of my reverie. "I don't think we should talk this over the phone. Our issues are deeper than you let on, Patrick. And I think I—"

I think I want a divorce. God, I'm so scared to even mention.

What will he say? How will this man react to this? I once tried to bring the subject and he turned into a crazy bull.He smashed everything in the house just so he wouldn't break my face.