The Call Girl And The Businessman Ch 07

Author's Note: When I first started writing this story, I did not expect the fanfare and how popular this story would be. It really touches my heart to know that I have been able to engage readers in this unconventional and emotionally-driven romance. I hope that I can carry on the standard set and do justice to the whole story by virtue of this chapter. I have given my best shot. I Feel free to tell me what you think about this chapter, good or bad. I thank you for your support and patience throughout my writing here. I have never felt so alive writing a story. The Call Girl and the Businessman is my most intense story to date.

I apologize for any grammatical, spelling or inconsistencies in this chapter.

I might be undergoing medical procedures soon due to health reasons and I might not be able to post the remaining chapters every two weeks, but know that I will definitely complete this story. I know how it feels like to read a story without an ending. I will probably finish this story by Chapter 10.

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Chapter 7 - The First Time in the Morning

I would always remember the first time it felt to find myself awakening in his bed; in my Mr. Boardmann's bed. Like a dream which unconsciously pulled me in, I could recall it ever so vividly. It was his voice I heard and his masculine warmth on my convulsing body which triggered me back into the sensations of last night. His words were not what I had expected to hear; yet mostly it was the way he spoke to me which frightened me. He had spoken to me in tenderness that enveloped my entire being; his voice could not betray that lilt of huskiness and restraint for my sake, causing me to sob even more at his attempts. How dear had he been to me last night!

When my eyes first fluttered open to all which morning had to offer, a stream of sunlight was the first thing which captured my attention. It streaked through the glass windows, onto the bed and right into my very eyes. I noticed dust; its white specks visible through the play of light. How they had drifted gracefully in between spaces of air; as though they were cradled by a force unseen to the physical world. I was not fully awake; my eyes were still too dazed to make out concrete shapes. I noticed only the graceful glide of dust through the prism of light. It made me think that I was still in the world of dreams. I saw these subtle entities flourishing at the edge of the physical world.

Scrunching my eyes shut again, I reopened them to a new world. The angle of light had shifted, and I saw floating dust no more. Sunlight enticed me with a display of catch. Its tremulous light bounced on and off the velvet duvet, giving it a crimson hue. How much depth had this shade possessed! Its intensity of colour formed a spiralling vortex which teased my senses into consciousness. For a spilt second, I was disorientated, when upon gazing down, I found a velvet duvet strewn over my body instead of the much lighter hue of lilac which was undoubtedly mine. A soft gasp escaped my lips. I came to the realization then that I was in his bed. He was none other than my Mr. Boardmann; the one and only man who had affected me so, and I had yielded to his wishes by spending the night by his side. Yet I had given him neither sleep nor rest in return.

I eased the duvet away from my body. It seemed to have clung on to the curves of my body. I could not be sure, but I prayed that it was not a sign that I had slept in cold sweat, as I sometimes did. It would have been undignified to sully his sheets with signs of my nervousness. I did not wish to taint anything which belonged to him; or leave even the slightest hint that I had been there. Call girls were the women which wives and regular partners could not be. We were like items of display, easy to the touch, and perfectly amenable. We had no excess baggage; no scars which we brought to the client. I had erred; I had shown him my scars and how badly these physical and emotional scars had affected me.

Penelope's words still echoed incessantly in my ears. He was nothing but a client. I had betrayed what I knew better; that was which I did not treat him like the others who flitted in and out of my life. My engagement with him had been fraught with erratic emotional undercurrents and last night...the very thought of what happened caused me to gasp again. I brought my hands to my lips, covering them. I could not bear to hear what those lips of mine bore witness to, and what it had uttered to him. I had collapsed in his presence; and I had made my way into his arms. I had confided in him; in the way I knew how; and opened myself up to vulnerability before his very eyes.

Oh God, he was everything but a client to me. He had pried apart my closed wounds; he had seen me in my darkest moments when I was most vulnerable. He had begged me to stay with him, prompting an overflow of emotions which I had so badly tried to repress, yet to no avail. In fact, I had regressed into who I did not want to be. I had given in to him, but I felt the strain of my unfathomable emotions. These emotions were the yardstick of my endurance. They formed the voice of reason which tried to lure me away from being close to him. Under their influence, I had protested hysterically; I must not stay the night with him. Yet these unfathomable emotions were finally surpassed by my spirit which leapt out to sob in his embracing arms.

My spirit had defied me; it had cried out to be with him. It had always wanted to be with him. He had seen my soul- he knew how it looked like and what it was. He had encountered my wandering spirit on the loose, despite half-hearted attempts by the mind to maintain it in the crypts of my heart. He had been such a presence to me last night; and regrettably, I had never more been such a disappointment to the agency's code of conduct, my standard rules and mostly to myself.

I was only truly comfortable when my life was mildly lived without excessive emotions. My level of resistance was hardly high. Troubled and disturbed men meant only absolute trouble; and Mr. Boardmann was the path to my abyss of no return. I was barely confident if my reopened wounds could ever be closed again. He was my serpent, for better or worse. Pandora's box had been opened and there was no turning back.

I shook in frenzy when I recalled his whispers into my cheek; and the warmth of his arms all around my vulnerable body. I remembered him caressing and kissing the scars on my back in tender devotion, and instantly I was lost in an ocean of turbulent waves. Never had I been more confused; never had I been more touched by his mannerisms and gestures towards me. This man whom I had come to know- who was he really; he who uttered out my name ever so tenderly?

He was an enigma. He made me feel uncomfortable yet safe enough to sob in his arms. He was complex but he was direct. His demeanour was as changeable as the wind. What had struck me most was that he could be extremely gentle and tender despite being the very same man who cast fear and perceived violence. He had begged for me to stay with him, because he said that it had meant a lot to him if I did. He had pacified me throughout those dark hours where I experienced the pain and the extreme hopelessness of my suffering. He did not say much but I could recall those few words uttered from his lips like a mantra. I felt like I belonged to him; and he was mine, but it did not make any sense to me.

I remembered his voice- so tender. He said that I was his angel; his miracle. Apparently these two words came linked. My heart skipped a beat again; it took a plunge, it hit the hard, cold grounds of reality. I shivered a little, not out of cold, but of a strange sensation which gnawed at me. I was tempted for him to be more than which he could be. I was supressing concealed affections for him. It had to be put to the rest, before it was all too late to salvage the civility we have come to experience.

If he had known about my whole past, he would see that being damaged goods was one thing, but being a rationalizing neurotic was another spectrum of it altogether. My mind worked like clockwork twenty-four hours a day.

I was so far from the perceived sweet-faced, angelic miracle lying in his bosom last night. I was a wolf cloaked in sheep's skin. I looked the part of the sheep, and I was aware of who I was. I could never lose sight of that. It was only a matter of time before the wolf broke free to gnarl back at its provoker. He should be cautious of me the same way I had been cautious about him. It was only fair to both sides. I was playing the dual role of protecting him and myself as well. It was a heavy burden to bear but it was for our common good. The great classical philosophers- Plato, Aristotle, Locke and Rousseau would agree with me. I could not be wrong when I had so many wise, old men to back me up.

What's in a name, that which we call a rose? A rose; by any other name would smell as sweet. Coincidentally I became acquainted with Shakespeare's quotation when I was a teenager. I did not understand it then. Yet my idiosyncrasies dictated that I memorized it. Despite my broken English, I wanted to remember because I was proud of the fact that I knew what the English word for rose was. The second reason was because it was a beautiful, multi-layered flower. In Bangkok, a British client had bought me a rose, and he was one of the few who made me feel any inkling of worthiness. He had recited these lines repeatedly, before taking my body in his. Today, looking back at yesteryears with some wisdom, I gathered that poetry aroused him greatly as a form of foreplay. He had been gentle with me; he realised that I was under-aged. Still I was the willing temptress, dangling by his side in a skimpy dress at the seedy bar.

I had lost count of the number of men I slept with and the men who took me by force. Mr. Boardmann would pity me, but probably would be disgusted at the same time. His sense of civility would stop him from telling me that straight in the face. I too, had lamented my sorry state and I was disgusted with myself. I could not let go of this cycle however hard I tried. My whole future revolved around my shattered past. I could barely move forward without falling down. Thus any leap forward was insignificant. Three years ago, I had succumbed back into drug and drink, despite my best intentions.

As I lifted my head from the soft velvet pillow to sit upright in bed, it was then I saw him; his back was turned against me. Even from this angle, he looked impressively devilish. In daylight, I saw how fair his skin was compared to mine. Although pale, its colour was not as ghastly compared to the first time when my eyes gazed upon him. In the dimmed lighting of the restaurant, I remembered how his pallid countenance had made me shudder. His skin colour was common among the people here and nothing out of the ordinary, yet I could not pull my eyes away. Daylight made me see him more vividly than ever. I saw him from a different perspective. The vividness of light unfurled right before my eyes. How different can day and night ever be to counteract with appearances!

He was just buttoning himself up in a freshly ironed white shirt. He must have heard the shuffling of the duvet and the slight creak of the bed's headboard. He turned and looked at me, and I, at him.

His expression betrayed nothing reminiscent of last night.

"Good morning, Lila." He said.

A bright smile curled up his lips. His voice was pleasant. He looked at me as if he were greeting a friend whom he had chanced upon the streets.

"Good morning, Mr. Boardmann." I said.

My eyes were transfixed on him. Suddenly I was unsure of what to say or do. Sensing my scrutiny, he hastily continued to dress himself by buttoning up his shirt right to the collar. I had nothing to do really other than to watch him. I was in a sort of daze; the faculty of my actions were delayed. My thoughts were in the realm of the past- the turbulence of yesterday; and my spirit had made its way into the background. It slumbered in the crypts of my heart again for it had completely exhausted itself. I thought that it got what it deserved. My spirit had acted in wanton disregard to what I had held dear- detachment and propriety. There were always consequences to every action. I had gone wild yesterday and there was always a price to be paid. There were no free passes in life.

After he was done with his shirt, his attention was on me again. I could not read his expression other than it betrayed nothing.

"I figured that you would like some fresh clothes. I've placed yours on the cabinet. They have been washed and dried. As you already know, there are towels and toiletries in the bathroom." He said.

"Thank you." I said, still looking at him.

He smiled at me. His eyes lightly brushed mine.

"How long have I been asleep?" I asked.

"Not long, I gather." He said.

He looked at me in a very civil manner while he stood there at the edge of the bed.

"Why did you not wake me up?" I asked.

"I thought you would prefer to wake up naturally." He said.

I looked at him somewhat dazed.

"I should go now." I said.

His gaze never left me as he proceeded to walk closer to my side of the bed.

"Of course you will go. But first we will have breakfast together and shop for a moonstone." He said.

His voice still pleasant; he gazed at me as a friend would.

"Yes." I said.

For a moment, I had forgotten that I had agreed to accompany him to the jewellery store.

We were both quiet after that. The silence was deafening because neither of us spoke although there should have been plenty to talk about.

"Did you spray my cedar cologne on your blouse yesterday?" He asked me finally, in that same pleasant voice.

I gathered that he was trying to make light conversation and I appreciated that a lot. I had felt rather awkward waking up in his bed, only to see him in what I considered an intimate moment of getting dressed.

"I did. It was blistering weather yesterday at the boulevard, and I did not want to have a sweaty scent about me." I said.

"I had rather thought that you liked the scent of my cologne." He said.

His voice teased me a little. He smiled a half smile, and I caught a cautious wink in his eyes. He was being careful with me today. I caught the subtlety of the terse manner in which he teased me and I never felt more wretched about myself. There should have been no need for him to anticipate my moods or put up a display of sorts for me. All said and done, I was the one hired to please him.

"I do like the scent of your cologne." I said softly.

I was eager to placate and humour him all over again. Never mind what he said three nights ago about this debatable subject matter.

His eyes were full of kindness for me and he smiled a little more. He came to sit by my bedside, and he looked at me thoughtfully. A fluttering sensation rose within me.

He was quiet again, and I was becoming more nervous by the second.

"I hardly ever use that cologne anymore. It was a gift from Clara." He said.

His voice was more controlled now and there was a distant eeriness in his eyes, although he was supposedly looking at me.

"Mr. Boardmann, I am sorry. I did not think..." I said, biting my lower lip.

If I had known that the cologne was a gift from his ex-girlfriend, I would have positively stayed away from it. I would have treated it like it was the plague. I sensed he thought about her still. He was trying to forget but she must have been quite the force in his life for she was able to control his better judgment. He had attempted suicide because of her. She was the one woman who had ruined his life with just the snap of her fingers. She was the Helen of Troy; the face who launched a thousand ships.

"It's alright, Lila. It's just blameless cologne." He said, as a matter of fact.

However his eyes told me that he was still far away from me. He must be thinking about her; I was sure about it. There was no one else to think about except her.

"Perhaps she would realise that she made a mistake and come back to you again." I said, in a quiet voice.

"I do not know if she would. Now that you said it, I must be able to top up the offer of her current lover in order for her to come back to me." He said.

He was in deep thought now. He placed his hand on his temple and tapped on them in all due seriousness. I could hear the animated tapping on his temple. I needed no reminding that he was a man of raw strength.

I wanted to imbue some sense of hope in him that everything was possible. Perhaps we should both look at the bright side of every dark situation. There was always the possibility of Clara gaining a conscience and realizing what she had missed out. He would almost certainly accept her back.

"Thanks to the miracle of the business proposal, my company would pick up now, but it would take time. I have to restructure the branches in South East Asia before profits come rolling in." He said.

I nodded in understanding.

"After that your net worth would be more attractive than her current lover." I said.

"Yes, that would probably be true." He said, in an unassuming voice.

His eyes had a distinct blaze to it and he looked tensed.

I was aware that many relationships were based on financial security, and I was not one to judge. If both parties were aware of what it took to keep the relationship running, it was all that mattered. I felt that romantic relationships embodied expectations, only that they were unspoken unlike in a business relationship. That was why they were almost certain to fail because neither partner had a clue of the other's wants and needs. Instead they subconsciously imposed clairvoyance on their partners. When the significant other failed to anticipate their needs, all hell broke loose.

My heart reached out to him. I did not wish to see him tensed up like that. I had to carry on with something uplifting.

"Or just perhaps, instead of waiting for her, you could try to win her back yourself." I said softly.

I gazed into his eyes, trying to gauge the extent to which he was thinking about her. He felt the surveillance of my gaze and it provoked him to pierce into my eyes. He looked at me with an emotion I could not quite understand except that I could discern his strong longing. My heart hurt to see him like that.

"You think I should win her back?" He asked.

His voice was controlled and his eyes were blazing with fire now.

"If you still love her, yes." I said.

At this stage, I was playing the armchair psychiatrist. This troubled and disturbed man needed more nudges in the direction he wanted to undertake.

"Despite what she has done to me, or rather caused me to do?" He asked.

The fire in his eyes almost singed mine with an unseen force. His voice was heavy with emotion, but he had spoken clearly enough.

"Life is not fair; therefore I think that everyone deserves a second chance." I said.

My voice was low, and my heart; it now wanted to coax him back into pleasantry. God knows how much I had wanted to see him happy. I wanted to be the fairy godmother who granted him his three wishes.

I thought that his love would be strong enough to build that relationship again. If he did not love her, he would have discarded her cologne a long time ago. He left it there as a relic of hope.

"I've told you this before, but I'll say it again. You're the kindest person I know, Lila. I'm not sure if everyone deserves a second chance." He said.

His eyes pierced right into the depths of mine; the grey wolf was practically aiming for my spirit to speak. I was so spellbound that I must have, for a moment, ceased to breathe. My breath came thereafter in deep surges.