Happy Hollowdays Pt 02

Here's part two. I will try to make the warnings necessary. No sex in this part. Just our protagonist trying to find a way forward. I'm sure for some it will be too wordy and I'm really trying to work on that. For those who think it might not be their cup of tea, I apologize up front. I like to explore certain ideas and this is one. For all who have stuck with it this long, whether you liked it or not, I heartily thank you.

I definitely want to improve as a writer. I have a full schedule and can't check in as often as i would like, but I promise I will read your suggestions and take heed. In the interim I hope I entertain more than I offend.

Happy Hollowdays Part 2

I blurted out sadly, my voice little more than a guttural hiss, "Then don't tell her. Don't ever tell her. I promised her I would never let her be hurt..."

I paused, "Oh God,"

It really dawned on me. Brenda wasn't mine; she was gone. She was gone already; there wasn't going to be a last chapter forth coming. There would be no last meeting, or last conversation, or last kiss. It was already over.

It just escaped from my lips, far too meek yet soaked in portent, "Oh no."

Andy's mom and her son read every bit of that in me, and they watched the weight crush me. I turned around and walked for the bedroom I used to share with her. That wasn't good, but I had nothing of mine that wasn't part hers anymore. I needed sanctuary. I kept walking. I didn't say anything. I went in I closed the door. I'm terribly embarrassed about it, but I'm sure they heard me break down as soon as the door closed behind me.

I didn't come out of there for hours. When I did it was my sister who I heard in the other room. Andy had called her. She still lives with our folks though she spends most of her time with her very serious boyfriend. God bless her, she had changed all her plans, dropping everything to come see me. She wanted to make sure I was okay. She saw I wasn't. She stayed with me. She held me while I lost it. I'll never forget her generosity that night. I love my sister. Her act of mercy, and that's exactly what it was, may have saved my life. My life was nothing, there was no consideration of it that night. It had less weight and import than a piece of trash blowing down a dark alley. If it had occurred to me, it would have been preposterously simple to do myself harm that night. Though frankly, I was barren, bereft of anything remotely human. I was safe, as rational thought had abandoned me too.

I was not "better" by a long shot. I spoke to my sister, she became my confident, and I hers. I liked hearing her news. She was serious with her boyfriend and things were moving very rapidly, she was positive he would propose by year's end. That being the case as the summer waned and fall passed and the holidays rolled forward, she was rolling in high gear with a wedding to contemplate. She planned to be with her future husband's family for Christmas and the expected proposal.

* * * * * *

I beheld my company, Jill was beautiful, especially when she smiled which I believed was not often now. We had been sitting and chatting for quite a long time. She kept herself almost bolt upright, sometimes wrapping her arms around herself protectively. At least her eyes no longer searched me for ill intent. She had relaxed and opened up during my story, she had been in tune with me then. Since then, matters had gotten a bit frosty. It wasn't that she didn't trust me, this was an internal struggle. Whatever the reason, Jill she was reluctant to go further.

That was alright with me, I was fine with having someone to chat with. That I was in no rush put her at ease. So much so she had volunteered she had no other appointments that night. I'm pretty sure that my not matching the profile of the typical customer she was led to expect helped a ton too.

Jill had asked me some questions before that I had apparently answered to her satisfaction. Then she probed; why did a "good looking young man", such as me, want to call an escort service? I know her question was really why a man who seemed perfectly fine, and was reasonably good looking, didn't just pick up a woman of my own. I disarmed her completely when I told her that I had been engaged and she had run off with my best friend and I wasn't over my broken heart. I had been alone for months but drew the line at being in solitary confinement for the holidays. That was a better answer than she expected, working on every level for her and, without my knowing yet, established a kinship of sorts between us.

Jill asked some pointed questions and found a man she liked quite a bit. Finding I was hurt touched something deep inside her. She showed true interest in my story and kept encouraging me to continue. She was amazed at what had happened. No matter what other topic we spoke off she drifted back to lost futures. As I came to understand she was searching for something she needed I kept answering her questions. That was playing out again now.

"Outwardly, I have been doing better since the break-up, which happened the end of July," it was mid-December now. I continued, "My sister had made plans and left for the holidays. She confided to me that she expected a proposal on this trip. She was glowing when she left. Her happiness raised my spirits."

Jill added glumly, "She has a future she can hardly wait to reach. She's not stuck in a present with no end." Jill stared at the floor for a few seconds before asking "How didn't that make you feel lower, Tim?"

Fortunately, I had an answer, "There's been enough time that I am back on my feet, I function even if still feel pretty hollow. I am not a danger to myself. I don't believe I truly was that first night either. It was like an official's call in an NFL game, the verdict for or against self-destruction would not have the weight of evidence to overturn, so whatever was called first was going to stick. I did not think of death that night, so here I am. Life bereft of anything valuable is in a state of continuance," I gave her a rueful smile.

Jill's brow creased at that statement. She didn't like the sound of it. More though, she didn't like the feel of it, and she definitely felt the same.

She saw the expression on my face blushing slightly in response; I was very thankful for her company, which made her very happy. Further I was comfortable with her and just chatting. I saw her internal conflict melt away another notch.

"I was going to be alone for the holidays. I think my parents, as sorry as they were for me, were excited for their artic cruise to see whales and icebergs, it has been in the works for a long time. I'm also pretty sure they expected I would be with my sister or friends.

"I have withdrawn from my friends; I don't trust the scenario. My two best friends, the one I had known and trusted the longest, and the one I fell in love with, had teamed up and destroyed me. When both of them turned out to be disinterested in displaying anything resembling friendship or loyalty towards me, you can bet I lost confidence in everyone below the top two positions too. Besides, I didn't want people looking at me with expressions of sympathy for the pathetic wretch. There was also one more devastating possibility. We had a circle of friends; suppose I went out with them, and Brenda and Andy showed up?"

Jill's eyes widened and mouth opened in sympathetic understanding. Jill understood what I was going through. I wondered what her story was. I wondered if it had any bearing on her being an escort. Even a high-priced escort would have moved forward with the seduction by now. We were more like a support group. Nothing about Jill being an escort added up. And, clearly, she wanted me to keep talking. Strangely, I learned more about her the longer I spoke.

"With my sister and my parents having plans, as well as my former best friend and fiancé, add that I felt I had no friends worth the title, or none I felt comfortable being with, I doomed myself to be alone. I thought I was up for it. Then the holidays crept up and magnified my loneliness. I'm happy I decided to do something about it; that was more energy than I had shown since Brenda left me.

"I started to check out ideas for those celebrating the "Hollowdays" with only their shadows. There were a lot of ideas, many based around self-improvement. I was so blown away I didn't even know where to start improving; I wasn't even near base levels. I was worthless to those closest to me. I needed to rebuild my confidence; I had been on a downward spiral since my future was destroyed. I didn't feel like I had a present either, I was floating through a void. I was lower than I had been directly after the breakup. All things considered, if given the choice, I wasn't sure I wouldn't decide to leave myself now. I didn't want to invest in myself, that seemed a waste of everything I would put into it. I was convinced the edifice that was me, should be torn down for something more worthy, like a sewer project or a parking lot."

I did smile now, I liked humorously piling on. Jill saw I was not a pathetic wretch merely a wounded man. She didn't speak, still too busy thinking. So I kept jabbering, and observing.

"Then I found an interesting tidbit: a type of business that booms over the Holidays - escort services. That was perfect. I still believe in the sanctity of contracts; it was Brenda who hadn't. No one found enough of me to be loyal to, but I could hire someone to pretend to be interested in me. Hell, if I paid an escort, I might even get laid." I laughed at my own joke. Jill followed along wrapped up in my story smiling at the uptick in mood.

"So, I perused the escort service's catalogs with the intent of hiring one. Their profiles mentioned different services the escorts provided, as well displaying a normal picture of what they looked like, and how they enjoyed themselves.

"Goading myself I wondered what my profile would say if I added my name to the list of potential clients. "Single white male of extremely limited value, but savings account full with nothing to spend on. Does not engender loyalty, but values it greatly and gives it freely. Loves beaches, sports cars, and proves his self-worth through the eager and desperate desire to make his partner orgasm. Passable hand and oral technique, though highly motivated to please.""

Jill's was heartbroken at my self-description. I thought it was amusing.

I chortled ruefully, "Yeah, I needed a lot of work. My profile would have been a lot more interesting six months ago before all this happened. But that's what rehab projects are all about, right?"

Jill's eyes turned sad. Yeah, she got it.

"Those profiles could be a hoot," I let my eyes go light again, "There were some funny ones, a lot of stuff was meant to be double entendre or perhaps designed to titillate. I wanted a companion as much as a lover. Hell, most of the profiles were selling themselves as fuckers not lovers. Oh, how the escort service has fallen. Where is a well-educated geisha when you need one?

"Then I saw an escort was listed as an "anal specialist". Seeing it, I figured two things. First, I have never had anal sex. Secondly, it sure seemed I had been royally fucked in the ass over the last few months. There seemed to be a message there for me."

Now it was Jill who flashed the rueful smile.

"I rebelled. Joining the double entendre club it was time for me to "get back". I needed turnabout! Now I could hook up with someone who enjoyed taking it in the shorts and get myself off the schneid. I needed to do new things, so I could check off one of life's odd little experiences at the same time."

Jill laughed a small happy laugh. That was a good sign, maybe I had gotten her to melt through another level of what was bothering her. The, er, "moon-maiden" was older than me. Hmmm, I guess in this business the term "maiden" should not apply. Still I couldn't help it; I was intrigued by the moon-maid. I figured she might be a little older than me. By a good ten years I thought. That still put her as a very hot looking mid-thirties lady.

I continued, "I mean, I was buying, why not try something I wasn't likely to stumble across?"

Jill laughed again. God, I loved her laugh. It felt good making someone laugh again. I wondered if a twenty-three-year-old guy, such as myself, might have some value to a slightly older woman? Apparently, I had none for a woman my own age. 'Apparent', I thought about the word. It was all too apparent I had way too much time on my hands, if I was thinking about any of these things. I decided I was better off jabbering.

"Anyway Jill, I found this one picture, it hooked me. Her picture was interesting, a portrait of something I didn't understand. She looked kind and considerate, while fractured somehow. I thought that might make sense for someone who considered themself an anal specialist. Eventually I decided I had to know."

Despite the recent lightening of mood, my companion had initially grown sadder and sadder as I told my story. I realized Jill's sadness was not just for me. She has lost something too, something that may explain the fractured expression in her profile photograph. I wondered if it also explained part of the "anal specialist" moniker. She had asked me questions; turnabout was fair play.

"So, Jill," I cocked an eyebrow to defuse the coming awkwardness, "Why such a Mona Lisa expression on your profile, and how on earth did you become an anal expert?" I asked, trying to sound bemused and upbeat.

Marvelously, Jill gave that same ruefully knowing smile from her profile, "I fell. I didn't mean to fall. I didn't set myself up to fall, I didn't set out to get something for myself selfishly. I fell because a man wanted to seduce me, and I was seduced. But you can't be seduced unless you are complicit in some way." She peered at me in a fractured way and genuinely asked, "Can you?" It was more condemnation than question.

Now I realized what sort of "fall" Jill spoke of. The way she talked and held herself, she was such a kind lady. She had sympathy for me true, but it was more. The way she held my hand, not as a lover but as someone who "got it" and was sharing her pain with my pain. She had terrible pain. Dear Lord, she was empathizing with me!

"I heard myself answer, "Yes Jill, I think you can. I think there are forces and even more circumstances that can simply overwhelm us. We try to prepare for them, but how can we do that for the ones we really don't have adequate defenses for? I don't know your circumstance, but you seem to be quite genuine. I would not, er, peg you as a "taker.""

My pun went unnoticed.

Unconsciously her left arm reached around taking hold of her right triceps, hugging herself for support. She began, "I never wanted to hurt my husband. I never wanted to betray him, but I did. I couldn't believe it happened, that I had done it. I thought keeping a secret from him was a second crime. I-I thought I was doing the right thing by telling him. I was beside myself; it was never going to happen again, but it had happened. I needed him to know how sorry I was. I needed Gary to know everything about me because we never had secrets. And I needed my husband to know I loved him so much I would spend the rest of my life making this up to him."

I swear her eyes lost a shade of color! They were wide open yet seeing nothing in front of her. Instead, she was seeing and reliving a past nightmare, one that I feared she had not entirely escaped from.

"But telling Gary, really hurt him; hurt him really deeply. I shattered his image of me. This sounds odd, but it would've been better for him, if I never told him. In the end he wanted me, but he just couldn't have me. The greater sin for him was my destroying how he thought of me, rather than my one-time infidelity. However, he could not know about one without the other. It's terrible: he would be happier if I never told him, and I would still have him. It's just that not telling him seemed like lying to me; I was actually trying to reinstate my faithfulness by being honest with him. But try as he did, and he tried so hard, he could not overcome it. It's so unfair, it was my fault not his. It sounds bad when I describe it that quickly. He tried, he tried with all he had, he tried for a couple of years. We divorced, by then it was obvious the happiness we had was gone. We were both haunted by what I did.

"I thought I had so betrayed love that perhaps this... escorting... is what I deserved." Her head ticked to the side, "Surprisingly, I'm relieved to share this, but I really don't deserve to have love or have things as they should be." Her voice trailed off.

I started to move to her support. Before I could, Jill rallied with a stronger determined voice, "So, I'm sex for hire, and I take it in the ass. That's my just level of perversion now. That's what I did to him figuratively, so it's sort of poetic justice." She sat resolute. She had decided on this course of self-punishment some time ago and was determined to see it through.

"Have you done this much?" I asked.

Her face danced with different expressions before she answered, "Well Tim, from your story I know you believe in honesty." She let her left arm drop, no longer hugging herself. Her right hand found her left and gently began to wring it. "No, I haven't, but I have been practicing." She looked into my eyes and found the need to add, "W-With toys, only toys."

I turned the idea over in my mind. Here was an escort scared to be thought of as having loose sex with partners. The concept and what it most likely meant made me a little dizzy.

Jill saw my consternation, but misunderstood though. Her voice took on an element of pleading, "I swear I won't let you down! I'll go through with it. And I won't scream or whatever. I've put things back there. I've practiced. I-It'll be okay."

My question drew her up short, "How long have you been separated from your husband?"

She deflated, "It took fourteen months from when I told him, to his feeling he couldn't overcome it. We stayed in counseling. I had hoped maybe he could let me come back to him, but another three months he still wasn't able to accept what I'd done. It's like he wanted to forgive me but couldn't. It was like he had a favorite painting that had been burned. We had it painted over, no one would be able to see, but he knew the damage was there. That's not a great analogy but it fits."

She looked around the room. I wasn't sure if she was looking for something that might help, or a path of escape. "Then we started to get into the holidays, and I thought that would do it. Gary, my husband, loved the holidays. He was always very romantic. More so at Christmas time than any other." She sounded wistful. It lasted only a moment before melting into defeat, "But it didn't. He hasn't reached out; he knows I'm there for him. I'm just going to have to live with the fact that I've lost him. That has been hard. The divorce went through in May. As I began to think of the holidays this year, I began to imagine... this."

"I am your first client?" I asked as thoughtfully and gently as I could.

Jill glanced at me with pleading eyes. Then the emotion changed. She averted her eyes, then as if she had seen something in mine during her glance, forced herself to look back once more. She seemed confused; her mouth began to open of its own will. She composed herself and with eyes full of trepidation answered quietly, "You are, yes."

I wanted to roll my eyes. From a completely selfish standpoint my life was not going to plan again. A thought presented itself: did that really mean life wasn't getting better? Regardless, it seemed I was about to get rear-ended in the anal pay-for-play racket. That seemed, er, fitting; my lousy luck was holding. Except, there was so much more to this woman, lady really. I allowed that my original plan was not truly worthy, I had just been pushed down so far that my resurfacing was an awkward breech. I told myself it was okay to be honest; sex was fine, I could take it or leave it, but my spirit was desperately looking for meaning right now. Perhaps some had found me.