Chapter 5

Doris felt so elated, never had she though she could feel so comfortable with a man in her life. There was so much she wanted to tell him but she understood that it was the wine making her so bold. She decided to calm down and let him do most of the talking.

“Come, I’m getting bored of this place.” Rood offered her his arm. “I’ve a permanent reservation in the penthouse here… and I’m hungry.”

Doris nodded, a little unsteadily, and composed herself. She took his arm and tried to walk beside him the way Jessica showed her; head held high, with balanced and self-assured strides. Instead she shuffled and stumbled, not so adept at wearing gowns and shoes like she was that night, as well as drinking all that rich and heady wine. She giggled into her palm, making Rood look at her in amusement.

A quick elevator ride up and she was sitting with the world renowned writer at a very private table in his own private terrace penthouse the hotel reserved for him. The meal was quite exotic and to die for, and the wine couldn’t get any better. Rood seemed fixated on her, as most of the conversation centered on her and the interest she had in books, namely his books.

“I really find this quite amusing to believe.” Rood was laughing, his face quite exuberant from all that wine. “That you, a librarian, moonlighting as an escort, an avid fan of my work, is on a professional date with me… I’ve never had this experience before, from any of the escorts I hired.”

“It’s rather strange for me too.” She laughed along with him, emboldened by the wine. “I would have never dreamt of even meeting you in a book signing convention, let alone being on a date with you… my first try at this, and… wow!”

“The situational set up sort of reminds me of some of my very early work,” Rood shook his head. “When I was struggling to make it in this

competitive business of writing.”

“Oh, would I have read any of them?”

“Don’t think so, I wrote them under a pseudonym, and they weren’t what one would label works of literary accomplishment… a far, far cry from what I do today.”

“Could you tell me about those books.” She looked at him eagerly. “I’d like to read them, if I may.”

“Of course, you can read them anytime.” The tall writer nodded, and then added with a laugh. “But I fear you may not be a fan of my work any more after that.”

“Oh, that’s impossible.” She shook her head adamantly. “I can never stop being a fan of yours.”

“Alright then, those books I wrote, almost ten years ago now… go by the lead character’s name for salability. To name some of them… Beryl Beaver, Fanny Firth, Joana Moaner… that sort of thing.”

Doris stared at him with open mouthed silence for a while. A rush of thoughts clouded her head but none of them found a way down to her vocal chords. She felt a numbness creep all over her, like ice crystals forming over the surface of a lake.

“Oh no, that look on your face.” Rood stared back at her with a bemused smile. “That look tells me you have read those books… or some of them.”

“Uh, I… I…” Doris stammered; her mind at odds between being delighted and disturbed.

Never would she have ever believed that John Rood, her favorite writer for so many years would have also written those racy tales she had so recently discovered and become an addict of. But then this was perfect, in its bizarre outlandish way. It seemed everything was converging, coming to one central point, all at once right there and right then, in this life that she was getting so fed up of living.

“Well, which ones have you read?” The author pressed. “And what did you think of them?”

“Um, well, John…” She took a deep breath. “I’ve never… ever considered confessing to anyone, about my recent fascination for erotica… but it… I mean, this… this, whatever it is that is happening now… I’m beginning to see… or… oh, my god… I don’t know what the hell I’m saying… I don’t know what I am even thinking… my mind’s so fucked up now… Ohmigod, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have said that…”

“Hey, Doris… you need to relax, calm down.” Rood’s voice was a soothing salve. “It’s okay, I swear all the time too… I wrote smut a lot, I love reading them as well. You don’t have to feel embarrassed or ashamed of what you like to do. It’s your life, dear Doris, take charge and get what you want done.”

“Oh, this… this is so insane.” She blubbered. “I never imagined you’d be so… I mean, you’re a celebrity…”

“And I’m also just a normal person, the same as you are.” He leaned in

and lifted her chin to make her look at him. “And I never stop at getting what I want, that’s why I could make my life what it is today.”

“Yes, you are… such an inspiring person.” Her eyes brimmed with tears, of relief and joy.

“Well, if you say so.” He had that devilish grin again. “And right now, I think I know what I want… and I want you. To hell with the policy of this non- intimacy bullshit. It’s my money, my rules.”

“What?” She felt a surge, like an electric shock, go all through her. “What are you saying, J-John?”

“I’m saying, you have had my blood on boil ever since I met you, Doris… and then seeing that you are everything I like in a companion and not some decoration to carry on my arm is getting me more worked up than anything ever has.”

“You mean… you like me?” She couldn’t believe her own ears. “Hell, I’m practically in love with you right now.” He looked into her

eyes directly.

“Oh!” Her heart was literally going to jump out of her mouth.

“If you desire, lovely Doris, we could make this into a real date… and I’m not saying this to get into your pants. I never do this… but you, you’ve done something to me… you’ve ignited a passion in me… and I don’t want that fire to ever go out.”

“Oh, those lines are just what Pierre Philippe tells Fanny Firth in the first boo...” She blurted, and then choked on her unbridled enthusiasm.

“I know, I wrote them.” He laughed and tapped the tip of her nose. “So it’s the Forbidden Escapades of Fanny Firth that you’ve read.”

“Uh, yes…” She nodded, not feeling embarrassed any longer. “I did... and I am… reading the third book now.”

“How do you find them?”

“Oh, they are wonderful, John… I never felt so good reading anything

else.”

“And do you wish everything Fanny Firth does, you could too?” His grin sent a chill down her back, but it felt good.

“Oh, all the time.” She blurted before she could stop herself.

“Then let’s make your wish come true, sweet Doris.” He stood up and grabbed her hand, pulling her up to her feet.

“Oh, but John…?” She swallowed hard as her body pressed against his. “I want you, Doris… and I can see you want me too.” Rood sounded

more serious than he had all evening. “But say the word and I will let you go…”

She looked away, her mind a jumbled mess of emotional and rational synapses waging war. Her body was more than willing, her mind somewhat reluctant. Those stories fuelled her imagination, threatening to tip the balance in

favor of doing the unthinkable. She looked back at him and bit her full lower lip. “I want you, John…” She breathed apprehensively. “I… I do. But where can we go…”

“Here and now.” He said and lowered his mouth over hers. “No one will bother us; they can’t afford to lose my custom.”