The hot water was running down his shoulders first as he came standing under his brand new steam shower, the warmth sending shivers over the spots the water wasn't reaching yet, but not loosening the tightly clenched muscles of his neck. It never did. Not that he was actually complaining though, because life was good for Saul Hudson right now and the small disadvantages of a full time office job really weren't overshadowing the fact that he was successful.
Well, to be precise, being successful in the real estate sector was one thing, but being the majority owner and head of ACG Global was another. It not only made him one of the richest men in NYC, but also one of the most influential since they had created contemporary designs defining the cityscapes all around the globe. They had redefined the identities of metropolises. They were an agency for visionary developers with him in the public spotlight.
He was a power player and he only played high class, because yes, he was damn good at it.
He sighed sharply, letting the steamy water splash all over his face and neck, pouring down his chest and making him shiver as he tried to loosen the hair tail that was holding his dark locks in a strict, tight ponytail. It were the only few minutes of actual relaxation he could have. Afterwards he would just throw himself into work again, spending hours and hours in front of his laptop until his eyes refused to stay open by themselves. It was always like that, always had been as success never felt into his lap. He worked hard and he worked much, but when he tried to be real honest to himself the explanation for his late night work shifts was much easier:
He may be a billionaire but he was lonely and bored. Bored of everything- his $7 million apartment, his roofgarden pool, his Corvette, his expensive shoes and suits and watches and his goddamn steam shower with which he had the closest to call a relationship with after Perla had left him.
But maybe that was exactly the way it had to be- a career or a social life. If he asked Perla it was all his fault. Everything. Because he had no time for her, because he wasn't interested in sex anymore, because he cheated on her every time he came home later than expected, because he refused to call her, because he was a selfish, arrogant, rich bastard with a tendency for bureaucratic eccentricity-
He had heard it all and expect from the fact that he was an arrogant, rich bastard and probably a highly addicted workaholic, it wasn't even true. In retrospect he could just guess that rich had been the final keyword why they had been marrying after all, although money really wasn't one of Perla's most important problems if you considered her surely unhealthy jealousy and her plain, malicious will for the world to turn around her.
But over thinking wasn't helping at all. He could ask himself all over and over again why he had married her, how he could ever have thought that he was in love with her, but it wouldn't make it any better (something he had learned within the last months), because wasted time was lost time he couldn't gain again and in his circles you couldn't allow yourself to mourn after lost things.
Sounded logical...but still it wasn't changing the fact that he was lonely as fuck and not even his new Armani bathrobe could manage to make him feel any better.
With a deep sigh he turned the shower off, drying himself sloppily, before slipping into implied bathrobe and walking over into the living room to sit down and open his laptop to check his mails.
A few from customers, two from his Dad and one with the strange topic "Whazzup fucker?!" on which he clicked first.
Send: 19:56, steven.adler@acg-global.com
Title says it all right?! Go check the links above. Ya need to get laid and you know that, so don't even think of simply deleting my mail. Ya know Paul from the statistic section? -Yeah that short, ugly motherfucker, why did you hire him again?- he apparently found that german chick, his girlfriend Heidi at doubleheart.com and man she's freakin' hot. Now stop waxing the jack and try. See ya tmr, Slasher!
He shook his head slightly. Typical. Steven had always been like that- saucy, rude, sex oriented, fast with a grin and a (sometimes misplaced) joke and often, so very often it had got them both into deep trouble since High-school. It could be exhausting, annoying, but nevertheless he was his best friend by far and he wouldn't risk to loose him, just because he could be an intrusive, cocky bastard with his head full of weird ideas, tits, drugs and, weird as it might sound, pugs.
He started a short reply first (Would you please stop calling me 'Slasher'), before just deleting it all again, leaning back against the smooth, black leather of his armchair and grabbing for his cup of Cappuccino, absently staring at the links Steven had added to his mail.
YourPartnerInCrime.com
doubleheart.com
HookerBooker.com
Nightlife.com
Well, non of them did sound like a serious dating website at all and also he wasn't very fond of dating german chicks named Heidi, with fake tits and red painted fingernails ready to get a scratch at his back, but he also had nothing too loose so he shrugged his shoulders and started checking them all, quickly finding out that either the websites were plastered with tit pics or, if it was at least a halfway serious meant, non of the participating woman could really catch his attention-
Until he stumbled over one profile at Nightlife.com that somehow drew his attention.
The dates were spare.
24 years old. From Indiana. Interested in man and woman.
Her picture was just showing her face: pale, fragile like a chinese doll, but with a strong jawline, high cheekbones, long, glossy natural red hair, green-grey eyes with gorgeous long lashes and a shy, but somehow very seductive smirk flashing on her rasberry pink painted lips.
She looked stunning. Exotic in a way and he just stared at her for a few minutes, before actually daring to click on the "message me" button.
Nothing popped up.
Why?
He tried again and again, inpatient by now, but apparently the button didn't seem to be a link at all.
"What the fuck...?", he cursed quietly, before noticing the small bar at the very right side of the screen.
"Owner of this profile doesn't allow private messaging"
Awesome. Not then. He overflew the page quickly again, more of less out of frustrated boredom, but then found a link at the very bottom of the page he hadn't seen before.
http://www.NYEscort.com/Axl_Rose467732?.
He clicked it, finding himself on another profile page of her, which wouldn't be fully viewed until he wasn't registered and created a profile by himself.
NYEscort...well at least an Escort company was a lot more serious than HookerBooker.com and now he wanted to see all her pics, so the few clicks through the register questions were quickly done.
Saul Hudson. New York City. Male. 26 years old. Employer. - and a pic in his favorite suit and sunglasses. Maybe not too accurate, but suitable for just a short visit. He refreshed the page, logging in, then finally opened her full profile.
Axl Rose. New York City. Male. 24 y- what?!
He stared, open mouthed, scratching his chin absently as there really was no way this Axl could be a man...well, Axl...Axl...male name, right? He studied her (his?) picture again, taking in the beautiful eyes in full make-up, before scrolling down for more pics. He found two full body ones
1. Tight, red dress, high heels, lipstick, hair complicatedly braided
2. White suit, black, polished shoes, a crimson colored scarf, no make-up, hair loosely strewn around his (!) face
Well...wow. Androgyn as fuck and looking breathtakingly sexy in both gender roles what could possibly mean he could be booked as a female or male escort. Unusal...
Slash leaned back again, taking in his slim figure and drinking the rest of his now cold Cappucino. He was interesting nevertheless. So he simply clicked the message button again, this time with a better result.
Saul: Hi there! Nice pictures.
Then he waited- and promptly got a reply after just a few seconds.
Axl: Yeah, thanks. Nice sunglasses! ;)
He couldn't help but get excited as he sat up in his chair, reading the few words all over again before he typed back.
Saul: Thanks!
Nothing for a while, then the "typing" symbol appeared again.
Axl: As you are contacting me, means you wanna book?
He thought for a while...did he?
Saul: Uhm...yes?
Axl: Awesome. I can see it's your first deal here so let me explain: It's a different procedure then mostly usual, more personal. There will be no booking before I confirmed it. So we will meet up first, then set a deal and you can book for every event you want to. You're in need of a male or female escort?
Saul: Uh...I'm not sure...
Axl: Well, you should. But we can talk this over at the first contact...
- First contact...sounded like The Fourth Kind-
...You can click on "contact" at the main page and write a mail to the given address in which you note down my name and yours. They'll arrange something and reply within 12 hours. That's it.
Saul: Ok thanks.
And the offline alert blinked up before he could even think of writing more.
He took a deep breath, slowly shaking his head as he started analyzing what actually had happened and it all sounded a lot more serious than he had ever wanted it to- moreover he didn't even need an escort and they hadn't even talked about money (what probably would be the less important problem).
Axl's profile picture was still staring at him though and somehow he couldn't help but ask himself how he talked, how he moved and how the fuck he could be so damn good looking. But on the other hand, what he wanted, what he needed wasn't a paid escort that played his wife or boyfriend...or whatever...for a single night and left him all alone again afterwards- he needed company. Someone to talk to. Someone who would sit down on the couch and watch TV with him, stroking his hair while they talked about their days, ordered food, and laughed together.
Steven was wrong: He didn't need to get laid- he needed affection and this Axl boy wouldn't be going to give him just that. Then again he was sure that he just wasn't able to have a relationship like that, because somehow they were always running away after a while, blaming him for everything and making him feel so guilty that in the end he started believing them, so he had given up the opportunity to be happy with somebody a long time ago and definitely after the whole Perla affair.
It maybe could be nice to at least claim that he weren't alone and a first meeting didn't automatically mean that he would have to set a deal, right?
His fingers on the mouse-pad were working quicker than his brain and he was typing, before even considering again. When he finished the mail he walked over into the kitchen with a long sigh, pitying himself for being such a huge douche bag and following one of Stevens advices (what never was a good idea), while he opened the fridge to grab one of the few things inside what happened to be a small bucket of vanilla pudding.
He started eating with a fresh, warm spoon out of the dishwasher and directly from the bucket, leaned against the counter and looking out of the glass wall which always allowed him an awesome view over the city's landscape. The cold pudding was slowly melting on his tongue as he sucked at the spoon, more letting it's taste spread than actually eating it, but he wasn't even hungry- it was too desolated, too goddamn quiet for an apartment bigger than most houses, just the almost silent rushing of the wall- waterfall behind his bed audible.
This apartment once had been exactly like he wanted it. Modern, classic, filled with pragmatic luxury, a rooftop pool, a breathtaking view over the whole city, big, wide rooms with high ceilings, black, futuristic furniture, colored lights arranged all over the ground, underfloor heating, a polished, white, wooden floor, almost solely glass-walls and a sauna even. But now it was nothing but empty.
He threw his bathrobe away, almost enraged, then walked back into his living room, bare foot, in his white Calvin Klein boxers to shut his laptop. Then he saw the reply.
Send: 21:53, nyescort_office@googlemail.com
Dear Mr. Hudson,
Thanks for your interest in our company's service. As you will already know NYEscort follows a path of development in the escort service industry and stands for integrity, class and absolute safety. We were able to arrange a first contact meeting with your company of choice. If you can't keep the arrangement, feel free to contact us again.
NYEscort
299 Madison Ave
New York, NY 10017
17.11.16
13:45
All essential information will be clarified at the mentioned date. If you have further questions please contact the customer service which is available from 13am to 21pm.
We appreciate your interest and hope for a great collaboration,
Christine Williams,
NYEscort
Tomorrow, 13:45...he would have to leave the office earlier and cancel a meeting. Arrangable. After all he was the goddamn boss...
---------
The next day started as usual- Shower, coffee, getting dressed, the ten minutes ride that, thanks to the traffic, always ended in thirty, the cursing, the Good mornings and meeting in twenty minutes, tons of paperwork on his desk- the only exception was that today he just couldn't concentrate on anything, but was just sitting in his office, absently chewing on his pen and checking his watch way too often to hide from himself that he was nervous.
Nervous for what he didn't even know- it was just a regular business meeting. Talking things over, getting an impression of each other, discussing about contracts and money; just that it all was about something utterly different than buildable vacant lots, properties or architecture, but maybe-
"Yo! What's up, Slasher?!"
He jerked when suddenly the door flew open and Steven stormed in without even having knocked.
"Dammit! What the fuck are you doing here? Why did Charlie even let you through?"
- they could hear a faint "Sorry, he just ran in!" from his secretary which wasn't even sounding apologizing while Steven closed the door and sat down on the desk with a wide, happy grin, short blonde locks bouncing as he grabbed for the cup of coffee beside him, having a sip just to grimace and shove it away again. "Eew, why no fuckin' sugar, man?"
"This is my coffee! Get your own if you want sugar! I drink it black."
"Yeah and ya' know why?"
"Enlighten me..."
"Cause' you are."
"Haha. Very funny."
"You grinned!"
"And stop calling me Slasher by all means, will you? It's annoying enough you got all my friends calling me Slash, but Slasher really isn't acceptable anymore."
"Not?"
"No!"
"You think it's funny, when ya' drunk!"
Slash had to grin at that, quickly hiding it with a low huff. "Yeah. Maybe. But you see me drinking now?"
"Well, not right now, but I could chan-"
"-Stevie! Seriously. I'm working. What do you want?"
"Oh you weren't working much when I came in."
"What. Do. You. Want?!"
"Ok, ok...just checking on you, don't get your pants in a twist."
He grabbed for Slash's coffee again, drinking although (judged by his looks) it must taste horrible, then looked at his nails in a try to convey a casual impression. "Uhm...did you get my mail?"
And there was the main reason why he had wanted to "just check on him". Slash leaned back, arms crossed, then grabbed for a cigarette from his drawer to light it and start smoking. "Yeah..."
"And?! Someone...from interest...?"
"I haven't checked the links yet."
"Oh not?", he gesticulated for Slash to give him a cigarette as well, having a deep drag from it after Slash handed him one, before continuing, "Well...apparently a lil' bird sang me that you took the afternoon off today-"
"Who?"
"-and considering that you never, and I mean like never, ever leave your office earlier, or at all, I assumed there must be something going on."
"I have an appointment at the doctor's."
"No you haven't! I checked your calender."
"Charlie you traitor!" Slash yelled over into the outer office, before he palmed his face with his free hand with a sigh as he was seriously considering to fire them both for interfering in his private life, but Steven didn't stop babbling and it was already 12:24, so he would have to postpone that.
"So, are you meeting someone?"
"Why should I even tell you?"
"Cause' I'm an awesome colleague and a great friend?"
"The second aspect is probably the only reason why you're even working here-"
"Not true, you know I'm a great realtor-"
"-so be careful, I can still always fire you."
"You wouldn't."
"Wouldn't I?", he said it with a raised eyebrow what only made Steven laugh, so there probably was no way to play the boss, "...Damn...yeah, damn ok. I wouldn't."
"See?"
Slash checked the watch again (12:27), crushed his cigarette into the ashtray he also kept in his drawer, then grabbed for Stevens to crush it as well ("Hey! Wasn't done!"), before he stood up and got into his coat. But the door opened again before he could say something and Charlie was sticking her head in, her short, strictly cut black hair perfectly fitting with the dark red ladies suit she was wearing.
"Sorry to interrupt, but you should be heading if you didn't want to miss your appointment- have you been smoking in here again?!"
"Yeah, I know, thanks. And yes. It's my fuckin'office, so I smoke in here whenever I want to! God! I should have handled both of you with more strength, you are too undisciplined to be true!"
"Well you told me to remove all your cigarettes..."
"Yeah when I wanted to quit! Do you see me quitting?!"
He had started to yell and wildly gesticulate, but by god, they were going on his nerves and it always was a bad idea to annoy him when he was nervous, so he just walked passed them and into the hallway.
"He Slasher!"
"Don't call me Slasher!!"
"Sauley boy! What about beers at Joanne's tonight? It's monday!"
"I'll think about it!"
"Please do!"
"Yeah, yeah. Gonna call you, you brat."
And with that he stepped into the elevator, heading for his car.
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