Buying Thyme Read online

  “Oh god!”

  His legs shake uncontrollably, so I grab the back of his legs in an embrace, and slow my momentum to a soft gentle glide,

  “Holy shit!” Tench can only seem to deliver two word sentences as he releases his salty sweetness into my mouth.

  I soften my lips over his slightly deflated erection. I pull my mouth off him completely and gently kiss the end of him. I look up at Tench who is biting his bottom lip. He raises his eyebrows and grins wildly above me. Gripping onto my shoulders, he pulls me up to him. He kisses me gently and clutches onto my behind.

  “Hmmm… Alcoholic seamen!” He says as he kisses me, “That was a pleasant surprise.” He runs his hand up my back and kisses around my neck.

  “The pleasure is all mine.” I whisper into his ear.

  “I guess I had better think about giving you back now.” Tench says as he holds my face with one hand and rubs my bottom lip with his thumb.

  He seems dejected as he releases me and pulls his pants back up and grabs all the picnic gear. I shrug off these feelings and pick up my handbag and the champagne and follow Tench back to his boat.

  Once again, I’m perched at the front bench next to the helm station. Tench comes back in from untying the boat.

  “I’m going to drop you off at the Opera House. Mrs Oktar has packed all of your things and Toni will be waiting with your suitcase at the wharf. Ben should be there too to take you back to the Agency.” He says as the boat’s engine roars back to life once again.

  His eyes are dull and grey. He stares out the front windows distantly into the harbour beyond.

  “Why?” I ask, wondering why he didn’t want me back at his place.

  “Because I wanted to spend as long as I could with you before I had to say goodbye gorgeous.” He returns a coy smile at me as we head west, towards the enormous white tiled sails of the Opera House. His smile is far from convincing.

  CHAPTER 7

  I feel vaguely like I’m in the final scenes of Pretty Woman as I sit in the back of the Agency’s Range Rover with Ben at the wheel. I take a quick glance out of the rear window as we pull away from the Opera House… and Tench. All I’m missing is the peach coloured blazer with oversized shoulder pads, and instead of a Roxette soundtrack, Angus and Julia Stone’s I’m Not Yours is quietly playing on the car stereo.

  “Can you turn it up please Ben?” I ask and he eyes me in the rear vision mirror.

  I’m hoping the loud music will prevent my mind from replaying Tench’s eyes when he said goodbye to me. He looked distant and almost sorrowful. As if I was never going to see him again. Is that what the last two days was all about? Did Tench just give me a final goodbye with an intimate and perfect time… for once? I guess it makes sense. Is that what he meant when he said, “So it’s time that I showed you my appreciation for just being you?” I start to feel forlorn. Acknowledging now that it may have been the last time that I ever see Tench again. I also feel very ridiculous and embarrassed that I misinterpreted Tench’s intentions so badly. The music has only yielded my thoughts slightly as the tall buildings of the city outside bypass by the car’s window. I don’t know if my melancholy mood is now prevalent because I’m disappointed about not seeing Tench again, or because I feel foolish with my assumptions, or because I had actually hoped that Tench wanted me to be his? All I know is that I need to take time out for myself. I have made enough money in the last three nights to afford an entire two months off. I was missing my apartment and my cat when I was at Tench’s whereas now I just want to be home in my own bed. That I bought… with my sex money.

  I don’t stop to see who’s around at the penthouse once I’m back at the Agency. I head straight to my room upstairs. I can’t help but throw myself into the comfort of the bed. As I sink into its surrounds, I feel myself begin to cry. The tears flow down my cheeks as I process the last two days with Tench. I feel utterly ridiculous for harbouring any thoughts that Tench would actually want to be with someone like me! I’m a prostitute! He could have any girl he wanted, anywhere in the world! How could I be so foolish? Talking myself into thinking that he actually wanted me! He was just trying to say goodbye to me! He’s probably found someone else and he felt compelled to say a proper goodbye to his whore! I cry harder and shove my head deeper into the pillow. I don’t know why I even care all of a sudden! I choke back sobs as my inner humiliation plays complete havoc on my mind. I’ve never felt like this for a client. This is why I avoid these types of feelings altogether, keeping them buried deep within. Why did I let Tench get to me this time? My racing mind and unanswered questions cause me to yearn for my twin brother, Simon. He always calms me down in moments like this. Although he doesn’t know exactly what I do, he gets that I have a crazy life here in Sydney. I don’t think he wants to know what I actually do so he doesn’t ask questions, but he is always my rock in a crisis. I wonder if he is on his rotation home from his overseas security work? I wouldn’t know. I haven’t spoken to him for a month or so. I want to hear his voice right now! Maybe I’ll go and stay with him for a month at his place up on the northern New South Wales coastal town of Byron Bay… if he’s home. Oh please be home Simon! I want to get the fuck out of this fucked up city! Right now all I want is to take some time off and forget this industry for a while. I finally manage to drag myself off the bed. In an attempt to pull myself out of my dark state of mind, I go to fix myself up in the bathroom. My reflection in the mirror just illustrates how I feel on the inside, so I decide to have a shower to wash away my red eyes and blotchy cheeks, obvious signs of my emotional state of mind. The hot water feels like a cooling reprieve from my burning skin. I stand emotionless, finally with an inner silence as the water soaks my face and embraces my entire body. At last, I feel like I have washed off any trace of Tench and the weekend I just had with him. I’m now replaced with a numbness that leaves me feeling completely hollow.

  I sigh with relief as I slide inside the comfort of my familiar jeans and pull on my favourite INXS t-shirt again. I start to find myself once more. Making my way down to Miss Stephanie’s office to deliver my request for time off, I briefly see that Sally is in the kitchen. I don’t stop for a chat. I’m still on a mission to get out of here. Miss Stephanie darts out of her office towards me as I approach the door.

  “Oh, Miranda. Just the person I was coming to see.” She says with folder in hand, “We have a new client who signed up while you were on your booking with Mr Tench. His name is Tom Smythe. He is the heir to the National Iron Ore mining company.” She pauses and looks over her glasses at me, awaiting a response from me, but right now I’m in no mood to celebrate the introduction of this client with her.

  “Yes… and what does that mean?” I try and sound somewhat interested, but I have a feeling that I know where she might be going with this.

  “That means he is in the top ten richest families in Australia.” She says, expecting me to jump with elation. Instead I just want to tell her that I’m going home.

  “That’s right up Paris’ alley for an ideal client. Is he interested in her?” I try and hope for the answer I need right now.

  “No darling. He wants to book you. He wants to see you tonight. A full night’s booking. He’s paying your top asking price. No questions asked. His health test results came in yesterday. He had them expressed through to us as soon as I requested them. He sounds very keen to see you.” This is not the news I wanted right now.

  “Miss Stephanie, I was hoping to go home tonight. Mr Tench wore me out in the last two days. I can come back and see this client maybe in a month. I’m just feeling like I need some time out, that’s all.”

  I inhale in anticipation of her response. Surprisingly, Miss Stephanie approaches me with a warm look on her permanently fixed expression and touches out to tuck a loose, wet strand of hair behind my ear.

  “I do understand the demands of the job my darling. You are very popular here amongst our clients and that can become very strenuous. I want you to rest and resto
re you energy. You are one of my best girls here and I wouldn’t ever jeopardise losing you darling, but…” I knew there had to be a ‘but’ coming in her persuasive little speech, “I really don’t want to chance losing Mr Smythe within his first booking. He will be a very profitable resource to the both of us, if you use your head and conduct yourself in a way that I know you are completely capable of… Then after this booking, you are welcome to take as long as you like off. Just wow him with your prowess for this one night, and leave him begging for more.” She says with her hand on my shoulder. Her eyes light up at the thought of what this new client could offer her Agency’s reputation. Having one of the nations wealthiest as a client is a definite bonus for the ‘Little Black Book’.

  Maybe this booking will fill the void after Tench and soften the uninvited ache of it all when I take my time off. I sigh. Shaking my head slightly, I try and convince myself that this is the right thing to do.

  “Sure. When does he want to see me?” I enquire quickly before I change my mind.

  “He was hoping for nine thirty, if that’s alright by you?” Miss Stephanie trills with an upbeat tone to her voice.

  “Do I have a choice?” I question sarcastically.

  “Probably not. Now go and see Kelly straight away. You have two hours.” Miss Stephanie utters over her shoulder as she heads back into her office.

  There’s nothing like jumping back on the horse. Heading up the stairs, I prepare for my transformation once again.

  I thank the big man upstairs for the magical touch of Kelly in moments like this. Not only does she hide my red eyes and the dark circles under them, but she also hides whomever I was when I was sobbing into my pillow earlier. Once again, I am the confident Miranda who is about to step into a booking with the upmost control and restraint. My mousy brown hair is flowing in glossy waves around my face, continuing down past my shoulder blades. My eyes are outlined with a smokiness that makes them appear more seductive than usual. This is easily Kelly’s best work to date. I decide this deserves my best arrival outfit to compliment my entire appearance. I head back into my room to find the best suit. I fling the top of my Prada suitcase open for the first time since leaving Tench’s place. My eyes remain fixated on the box in the middle of my suite case, I’m suspended in complete bewilderment. Did Mrs Oktar pack the exquisite necklace by accident? I violently toss open the box to check if my suspicions are correct. There, on top of the sparkling black diamond, is a note folded in half. I open it to read:

  Please accept this gift Miranda

  to always remember our amazing weekend together

  Joe

  He wanted me to keep this? It’s too much! To always remember our amazing weekend together? Like I could ever forget it! Well this just confirms that I probably won’t be seeing him again! I don’t have time to ponder about this excessive offering from Tench. I’m actually glad about not having time right now. Thank god I wasn’t home when I found this. I would’ve been tempted to drive straight over to Tench’s place to personally deliver the necklace back to him outside of work, breaking a huge Agency directive in doing so. But the nerve of him! I can’t accept it! Where on earth would I ever wear something like that! It hasn’t made me feel anything other than just plain angry. Does he just keep thinking he can buy me? I bury the box in the bottom of my suitcase in an attempt to conceal its existence from my mind.

  I briskly moisturise my sun-kissed skin with body butter while Kelly steams my favourite outfit. This time I go for my other Carla Zampatti suit, in black crepe. The jacket has a modern peplum and luxurious draping on the side with a thick tie cinching it in at the waist. With a matching fitted pencil skirt to emphasise the hourglass silhouette created by the tie front. I decide not to wear a blouse underneath, almost in an act of protest to Tench. It is by far my most flattering and seductive outfit. Underneath I wear silk red lingerie from Agent Provocateur. It leaves very little to the imagination with a quarter cup bra, forcing my nipples to burst out over the top. Gorgeous bows sit perfectly under each nipple. The underwear has little matching bows that sit on either hipbone and one at the back at the top of my butt. Completing the entire look is the matching suspenders that sit high around my waist. They make it all look very much like red bondage around my body. This will teach Tench to try and impress me! I smile satisfyingly at myself in the mirror. Kelly knocks and comes in handing me my suit.

  “Holy Jesus! You’re going to give this guy a heart attack if this is his first time with you and you look like that!” She says, her wide eyes looking me up and down.

  “Could you give me some nice red glossy lips Kel?” Is my only response to her, hiding the real motive for my attire.

  If Miss Stephanie wants me to ‘wow’ him, then that’s what I’m going to do! I’m going to get Tench out of my system once and for all… by throwing myself into the next client. I slip my suit on and head back into the salon for my ruby red lips. “Next!” I snap my fingers and snicker to myself as I walk out the door.

  Miss Stephanie is more than impressed with my look for the night, “Wow darling, you look fabulous tonight. Well done… Now Mr Smythe is staying at the penthouse suite at The Bondi. Knock him dead and I shall see you in the morning.”

  Sitting in the back of the Range Rover once again as Ben drives me to Bondi, I wonder why a man with as much money as Tom Smythe is not staying in one of the top suites in the city? I guess the boutique hotel on the beach is still lovely, but I would’ve expected him at the likes of The Australia suite at the Intercontinental for a cool Six and a half thousand dollars per night. He has billions right? So why not? Although, I haven’t actually been to the penthouse suite at The Bondi, so I don’t know what it is like, and I guess it will be a nice change from the usual hotels I frequent around the city.

  I go through my fantasy outfits for the night in my head as we pull into the garage to the hotel. The waiting lift takes us straight up to the penthouse, bypassing the concierge desk, which suits me just fine. Ben presses the intercom in the elevator and I hear Tom Smythe’s velvety voice through the speaker. He’s a lot younger than I expected, but then again, I never really know what to expect when I meet a new client for the first time. I don’t know much of this Mr. Smythe. His family, despite Miss Stephanie knowing all too well who they are, seem to keep out of the media and have kept relatively private for such a wealthy family. I always wonder why men like Tom Smythe use an escort service? I’m fairly sure they don’t find it too difficult to acquire a woman to bed for a night. But like most clients, this is a safe business transaction. They know what they’re getting and they know a prostitute doesn’t want a relationship after it’s all over. We are a safe and discrete option to have everything they need for the night. Given that his family made their money from Iron Ore mining, I imagine Tom Smythe is a skinny, well-groomed nerd with a university degree in geology or engineering, enabling him to work in the family business. He would’ve attended the top private schools in the country, where rowing was his extra curricular activity. I quickly set my preconceived notions of Tom Smythe aside to briefly take one last look at myself in the elevator mirror. The doors slide open and reveal the foyer to the penthouse. Ben takes a step through the doors first, holding the elevator doors with his arm extended across the sensors. He scans around the foyer area for anything suspect. He nods back at me and I step out of the lift into the foyer. The foyer has a dark wood panelled feature wall, surrounding the dark wooded double doors to the penthouse in front. There is nothing else in the foyer except two large black and white pictures on either side of the doorway, displaying artistic angles of the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge. A man in his early thirties strolls in to meet us, flaunting a bright, handsome smile. I feel physically stunned by his classic ‘Paul Newman-esque’ looks. I have to force myself to shut my gaping mouth, accidentally swallowing louder than I had hoped for. He looks as if he has just stepped off the set of a Ralph Lauren campaign shoot with his strong frame, easily over six foot and pic
ture perfect features. His brunette hair has distinguished grey flecks on either side of his temples, causing me to rethink his age for slightly older. His lips are plump and sumptuous. The dimples cast into his cheeks from his smile, make me melt on the spot. His nose is delicate yet masculine and perfect… but it’s his eyes. His eyes are a stunning steely blue. As he walks into the foyer, I feel them pierce right through to the very pit of my soul. He only allows me a fleeting look, drawing his attention back to Ben. He stretches his hand out to Ben and Ben meets his with a greeted shake of the hand.

  “Tom Smythe.” He says to Ben with an impressive voice.

  “Pleased to meet you sir. I will be back to pick Miranda up at eleven, tomorrow morning, as requested sir. Enjoy your night.” Ben returns to the elevator, “Evening Miranda.” Ben says looking at me as the elevator doors slide closed.