(Continued) – Part 2
This is a continuation of My Experience with Paid Companionship
Gazing up and out the window, the green sparkle in my eye as the sun came in just right, I looked over at my bags waiting. The day has come. Our first day and I was feeling more excited than anything else. His executive status got him the best resort stays and I was under the complete pleasure of experiencing a great one. Our first encounter was important as whatever happens now will set the stage; will this or will this not be successful? If not prepared emotionally, being a Daddy’s Girl could leave behind many scars and unresolved trauma no one wants to add. With my own experiences within trauma, I knew my soul could be destroyed further. However, I was ready to embark on something new and gain new insights from someone who has lived longer than I. And perhaps, he could teach me many skills that are very much needed to be successful. I had made up my own saying for such occasions- make sure the good from a bad decision is greater than the bad decision itself. Though, I couldn’t tell if this should be labeled as such. As I looked back and continued to stare into the light, I almost didn’t feel the shrill pitch of my cell phone ringer. Leading up to this moment, compartmentalizing everything to the point of feeling rational, I couldn’t help but smirk when I saw it was him. Rich Guy Here always had his private car ready and I was about to see it for the first time. Todd was the typical name for a private driver, and this was no exception. I stood up and settled in a coat to hide from the weather and placed my black shades comfortably on my nose. The anonymous exchange was nothing but arousing, and I felt like sliding into my role early.
..the car pulled up, no turning back now. I pulled out my gold flask and swigged something strong before opening the door..
Our sweet secret love affair and our dynamic was particular and exhilarating. I felt painted gold and exalted- I could hide in someone else’s glamour just for a while. After being in each other’s lives, the worry on what other path I could have taken turned into whispers and faded away. I became a new woman for him, and the passion of everything kept me from wilting under his teeth; I became amazed at the change in my life. I sipped decades-old whiskey on a yacht in Miami, I slid my hands over cherry-red Lamborghini lacquer and enjoyed the best wines in the most robust parts of Italy. I paced marble halls in silks draped over Agent Provocateur, all for him- all under his gaze. I watched him lose more than I made in a year in a single game of blackjack, placidly, and we made each other look good: I looked good. Every time I indulged in living the life of fancy with him, it became easier to forget why I was there in the first place. At the beginning, I never felt like I had to relinquish any bits of my soul. I gained a lot of pride, confidence, and a great sense of stability in this secret of ours.
I also learned a lot about relationships. The good parts and how to handle some bad. He wasn’t a particularly gifted lover, but I wove the things I did appreciate into the gentle quiver of my voice. Oscar-worthy, I’m sure. Not that it was ever about me, but I was still slightly disappointed all the same that I couldn’t have it all. While skimming the fiction section at “Powell’s City of Books,” I would find myself talking to him about romance, attempting to communicate my heart’s desires on how we could be better. Most people don’t take compromise into account when designing their perfect relationship, however. The sentiment went over his head, and I continued on as a satellite. After a few months, the excitement started turn into a burden, at least that is how I felt. The closer we got the more I was losing. I didn’t notice at first that his expectations were also changing. I swirled around for months trying to keep up with them. I was neglecting my 9-5 and my social life and everything was starting to look far different from what we had originally discussed. But the money was good, and in the Tuscan sunset, everything was rich. Every extra encounter brought me closer to my goals, but he wanted me to live for him and him alone. He wanted me to drop everything, everyone, to rush to his side when he rang a bell without taking my own needs into consideration. I ended up degrading myself without realizing; I quit my job just to appease his discomfort and ease his hostility and thinking back to my water-downed attempts at making him better, I was never enough to him, and he never wanted to hear what I had to say anymore. We carried on and I watched him become more irrationally unpredictable.
