she will love you more than any other girl

She was twenty-nine or thirty.

One of those women who’d get angry with you if you bought her a gift that

had a chord attached to it.

Who treated a man like a fruit salad. “I like this, but I don’t like that…like

this but not that…this, not that.”

The day we met, she inspected my shoes.

“Hm, wing tips,” she said. “You’re all business.”

“Well, they’re just one of the pairs of shoes I own,” I said.

“Have any Chuck Taylors?”

“No, I don’t. Do I get points deducted for that?”

“No, but you get points deducted for asking me if you get points deducted

for that.”

“Sorry.”

She looked at my watch. “Hmmm…”

“Hmmm?”

“I like your watch.”

“It was a present from my grandfather.”

“That’s a fascinating story. Why is wearing a watch so important to you?”

“I just like the way it looks.”

“Good answer; time, after all, is completely irrelevant,” she said, sarcastically.

“‘The laws of science do not distinguish between the past and the future.’” I said.

She stared at me for several seconds. “Do you often quote from Stephen Hawking?”

“You’re familiar with Hawking?”

“I’m studying theoretical physics.”

“Wow, what are the odds of that? No, actually, it’s like the only quote of

his I’ve ever committed to memory…and I don’t even know why that one

stuck with me.”

She put her right forefinger to her lips and shushed me.

A few minutes later, as I handed her a glass of cognac in my apartment, I

toasted to bigger and better days.

“Define bigger and better days,” she said.

I thought about it for a minute. But I didn’t know exactly how to answer

her question. So I didn’t. I took a sip of cognac instead, altogether

avoiding her eyes. But she was one of those gals who could see 

through guys like me, so she pressed me further.

“Define bigger and better days,” she said.

I waited twenty or thirty seconds before speaking.

“Independence,” I said, barely able to contain my jitteriness.

“From what?” she said.

I thought, why couldn’t she just accept the first thing that came out of my mouth. Why did she have to be one of those skeptical chicks? I’d about

had my fill of skeptical chicks. Weren’t any wide-eyed, idealistic, hassle-free women left in the world? Did they all have to be such raging

feminists?

“Independence from fear,” I said, hoping this bullshit would fly.

She suddenly smiled. It was a sincere smile, too, that

was utterly involuntary and didn’t have an agenda. “You’re a very

spiritual man, aren’t you?” she said.

“I have my days,” I said.

“You can think on your feet, too. I like that in a man.”

“Well, I’m pretty good at thinking lying down, too,” I said.

“Are you?”

“But I’m at my very best when I’m on my knees.”

She laughed. I liked her laugh. It made me feel like I could climb Mt.

Everest butt naked.

“When I first met you,” she said. “I thought you were gay.”

I cleared my throat. “Oh really?

“You were listening to ‘Dreamgirls on your iPod.”

“You could hear it?”

“Sort of threw me for a minute.”

I shrugged. “What can I say? I was brought up on show tunes. My parents

loved Broadway.”

“But then I realized there’s no way in hell this guy’s gay."

I questioned her with my eyebrows.

“You have that look of oblivion I’ve only seen on straight men.”

I nodded like I knew what she was talking about. But I didn’t. Truth was,

I was having difficulty reading between her subtle, squiggly little lines.

But that was okay.

Because she was a discreet and exclusive New York City escort, she went down smoothly and slowly, like a bottle of 2002 D’Anbino Paso Robles Syrah.

Reviews

[Philip Gaber]

I had a friend in college. That was her jam, and she made a boatload of cash off of those Wall Street guys. That's what she was, a high-class hooker. Film school was a blast!

[John the Baptist]

A discreet and exclusive New York City escort? Not sure what that means. Sounds too expensive to have someone get in your face.

[Samuel Dickens]

I felt like I was tip-toeing through a minefield... yikes! Surely there'd soon be a big BOOM and I'd see oblivion all around, but then the last lines let me breathe easy. Oh, okay... a hooker. Sweat's off. A good one, Philip.