Butterflies in My Stomach
The tall, dark handsome stranger walked into the bar and looked around. I could feel his gaze searching the bar and I flushed which if you ask any of the escorts servicing London is very un heard of. He was completely gorgeous. As his gaze alighted on me, I will never forget his expression. He looked pleased, shy and relieved at the same time. I was thankful I’d caught that look, because frankly, this guy was out of my league.
Grant was a barrister and in his mid-thirties, and that was pretty much all that I knew about him. He had come to me through recommendation. I guessed it was either Richard or Menno, as he spent half of his working life in the City and the rest in the Netherlands. I had been to Amsterdam recently and was astounded at how accessible the escort system worked there. I had found myself wondering if he’d enjoyed the red light district in Amsterdam, but I dare not ask. It was none of my business.
I rose as Grant came over and shook my hand. I’d risen to kiss him on both cheeks so there was a awkward moment.
We had two hours planned and my knees felt weak at the thought of performing anything with his looker. His green eyes were large and framed with long, dark lashes. I was jealous as would be most London escort girls.
I was already half-way though my gin and tonic, so he ordered a Becks beer. Then he looked at me and smiled nervously.
“I was not expecting you to be so gorgeous. I think I’ve got butterflies in my stomach now. Hopefully the beer will calm me down.”
I smiled and patted his hand. “I get nervous too, but I appreciate your honesty. So, Grant, I only live around the corner. Let’s chat, have our drinks, and then I’ll make you feel very welcome back at mine.”
His eyes twinkled. “Do you flat-share? Will there be anyone there?”
I shook my head as I picked up my glass. “No, I have an arrangement with my landlord, so we won’t be disturbed.”
Grant took that in, sipped his beer and asked. “You look like one of the old-school actresses, you know. You have that same classical beauty. I loved watching her when I was young.”
I laughed, “I would be rich if I earned a fiver for every time someone told me that. I was even asked for my autograph. Brigitte Bardot, you mean, don’t you?”
Grant nodded, smiled and drained his beer. “Let’s go, Lola.”