Sam Michaels smiled as he left Grace's apartment. He knew that was wrong. He should have felt guilty. His affair with Grace was growing serious and he was a married man. He never would have believed himself capable of cheating on his wife, but there you have it. The affair had started just before Christmas and it was nearing the end of summer. He should have ended it and tried to make things right, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He knew that he only had himself to blame for everything that was going on.
He should have made some kind of polite excuse for his wife's not attending the Christmas party. He and Annabella had not been getting along for the past year and he should not have made the assumption that she would be willing to accompany him. In fact, just last week in no uncertain terms she insisted that would not be happening. Sam had bragged about his beautiful, exotic wife to his bosses, raved about her charm and her intellect so much that they were all looking forward to meeting her. He was a junior associate at the firm and now he was trapped. If he didn't bring Annabella to the party, questions would be asked that he didn't want to answer. What was he going to do?
His buddy Martin provided the out. Martin was a busy lawyer trying to climb on to the partnership track. Good looking, well off and adept at his job, Martin had often told Sam that he didn't have time for a relationship. "I only need someone a few times a month, helps take the edge off," Martin had explained to Sam over a few drinks of decent Bourbon.
"So, what, you have, like, a friend with benefits or something like that?" Sam had questioned.
"No, even that can get messy because they still want to waste a lot of time talking about your day, their day and all the dreary shit," Martin responded. "I just want to go to dinner, have a few drinks and get laid."
"So ...?"
"I use an escort service, Rainbeau Companions. Very above-board, the firm has even used them on a few occasions," Martin explained, shocking Sam a fair bit. Sam had been raised in a conservative household where such things weren't done, or, at the very least, talked about. "All of their girls are gorgeous, discreet and you can set the terms for whatever suits you. I have a few girls I see regular, so I still can get the feeling of having a girlfriend without all of the hassle."
Now that he was in a jam, Sam came up with what he thought at the time was a good plan. He went down the hall to Martin's office and asked if his buddy could provide the phone number of the service. Martin crooked one eyebrow and put his feet up on his large, oak desk. "You, Mr. Married and Don't Stray, need the number of an escort service. What's the matter buddy, getting the 7-year itch?" It was an amusing and almost apt comment, as Sam had been married for just a little over 7 years. He had met Annabella in law school, were she worked as a receptionist. The Brazilian beauty had him smitten and it had taken a great deal of wheedling on his part to get her to agree to a date. A year later, he had proposed - and she said no, at least, the first time. Six months later, she proposed to him and they set a date. It had all been marvelous - until last year. Annabella wasn't happy and he could see that. She wouldn't say why. She wouldn't go to marriage counseling. What was he supposed to do?
As his closest work friend, Martin knew a lot more about Sam than their superiors. Sam explained the situation. "I need to hire someone to pose as my wife, someone quick on the uptake, someone charming and funny and, yeah, she has to be gorgeous," Sam said to his buddy. "You told me that their girls can adapt to most any situation."
Martin leaned back and whistled. "Whoo, that's a tough one. You don't think they'll get wise that she's not Annabella?" Martin had met Sam's wife on many occasions over the past year. Annabella said she thought he was cute, if a bit shallow and work-obsessed. Sam couldn't disagree, but kept it to himself. He needed Martin's help - badly.
Sam shook his head. "I always refer to her as Princess, which is what I called her when we were dating. I know it's risky, but I think we can pull this off."
Martin relented and gave Sam the phone number. He had to admire his colleague, he had brass ones. If found out, he'd lose his job for sure. He should have trusted his friend. Sam could have been a con man because he was so facile with words. He won a lot of his cases by knowing just the right thing to say. If he committed to his plan, he was sure that he'd be able to pull it off. He looked down at the number and placed the phone call.
Sam spoke with a woman named Melisande who seemed both very professional and very thorough. She listened attentively and asked all the right questions. "I think that we can do business," the woman said to Sam. "We have a young woman named Grace who I think will fit all of your requirements. I'll arrange for the two of you to meet for coffee and if you think she will prove suitable, we can make the final arrangements."
Sam said that he thought that would be fine and left it up to Melisande to tend to things on her end. He let his trusted executive secretary in on his plan, as he knew Tracey Vaccaro could be trusted to be discreet. She had worked for him last year as a summer intern and had proven so proficient in all of her tasks that he made her an offer of employment right after she graduated. Tracey was going to night classes a few times a week while earning more than a sufficient income to pay for her education. She was also a ray of blonde sunshine that helped him cope with his relationship problems with his wife. Several times they had gone to lunch and Tracey had offered sound advice despite her not quite being twenty years of age.
On the day he was scheduled to meet Grace, Sam actually found himself in a perplexed state. It was the first time in some years he was going out with another woman, one not his wife. Of course, Tracey didn't count. "Make a nice impression," Tracey suggested as she straightened his tie. She went into her desk and got out a lint brush and ran it across his jacket. "Treat her like a date you're trying to impress." Sam nodded as he thought that made very good sense. The coffee shop at which they were to meet was close, so Sam didn't have to concern himself with being late. He knew very little about Grace, save for what Melisande had told him - Grace was Asian and 28 years of age. Aside from that, she was a blank canvas.
But
what
a canvas on which to paint a picture. He caught sight of Grace the moment he entered the cafe as she fit Melisande's description perfectly - although Melisande had greatly
undersold
her employee.
Grace was simply
stunning
and there were several other words for it, such as
gorgeous
and
sexy
. She wasn't dressed provocatively at all, but she could have worn a gunny sack and made it look like a designer fashion. She was attired in a pin-striped, tailored suit that did little to hide her magnificent figure. Her hair was jet-black, long and down to her waist and she had perfect, exotic features. Sam was already smitten a bit and wondered if anyone at his firm would possibly believe he was married to such a creature. She was the first woman he had taken notice of since marrying Annabella years earlier. Gathering his wits about him, he slid into the booth across from Grace, introducing himself as he did so. Her smile was as captivating as the rest of her. "It's a pleasure to meet you," Grace said, extending her hand. Her skin was as smooth as silk and Sam actually felt his senses go swimming.
"You do know why you're here?" Sam asked. Grace nodded and smiled again. Sam began filling her in on the more minute details and like Melisande before her, Grace only stopped him to ask pertinent, relevant questions. It seemed as if she was going to be as thorough and professional as had her employer before her. After a while, both of them seemed to relax and just started making small talk. That felt even better to Sam, more natural and he found himself warming to Grace. Were he not a married man, albeit far from a happily married one, he might well have asked her out on a
real
date. He found himself wondering if Grace had a boyfriend and realized if she did, he'd likely be jealous of the man. The Korean-born Grace Lee was a real prize.
Over the next few days, he met Grace for coffee on two more occasions. They were able to come up with a back-story that would likely stand up to scrutiny. Sam found himself wishing some of it were true. In their relationship, it was Sam and not Annabella who was the true romantic. The story he and Grace concocted was much more suitable to his liking and also fit the tidbits he had shared with his superiors. One thing was certain, if they bought into the story, he was home-free. Grace could easily charm the birds from the trees. In fact, Sam was actually enjoying their third "date" a bit too much and got back to work a bit later than normal. Tracey actually took notice of the fact that her boss was whistling as he entered the office. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen Sam so happy and he would have been hard-pressed to recall such a time as well.
The day of the party arrived and if Annabella was at all interested in why Sam hadn't invited her, she didn't seem to show it. He was wearing his best suit and in a very good mood, yet she didn't seem to pay him any heed. At work, Tracey noticed that he was a bit jittery and managed to calm him down with well-placed words and a tumbler of his best Scotch. "Play it cool, boss-man," she instructed him. "If any of the big shots ask why you seem so nervous, just tell them that you're anxious for your wife to make a good impression. They ought to buy that." As ever in situations such as these, Sam was reminded again of how smart if had been not to let the ever-efficient Tracey get away.
He went upstairs in the elevator, his stomach doing cartwheels. Grace was going to meet him at the party, although he had no idea of what she was planning to wear. All he had suggested was "dress to impress", although she could have worn a sack cloth and done so. He wasn't at all worried about Grace holding her own, as she already had a degree in Art History and was working towards another in English Literature. Her parents were very proud of their daughter, who sent money home every month.
Only once had he questioned her about her work. "You're beautiful and brilliant, so why do you ...?"
"... work as an escort?" She finished his sentence. "I like expensive things and this pays good money which affords me the opportunity to
buy
nice trinkets," she told him. "You know the rules ..." He nodded as Melisande had made them clear "... I don't sell sex, just my company.
If
I have sex with a client - and yeah, I have done that because I really, really
love
sex - it's of
