Carolyn's Spanish Gigolo

Carolyn picked the book up, as if in a trance and placed it back on the desk. Her eyes were locked on the face before her. His name was Philippe... Philippe Angeles. He was 30 years old and was looking at her with eyes that smouldered with quiet passion. They were dark brown, almost black, and glowed with the deep luster of burnished mahogany. His hair was medium length, as black as coal, and flowed back from his temples in dark, silky waves. His skin was smoothly sensual and a deep, rich olive color. Although he was wearing a jacket, Carolyn could tell that his shoulders were broad and strong. He was absolutely perfect! She knew from the moment she saw him that Philippe Angeles was the one she wanted.

Almost as if she'd been summoned, Eva appeared at the door to see how the ladies were making out in their search. She could tell by the looks of quiet determination on their faces that they'd made their decisions. She'd been doing the job for a long time and knew instinctively when her clients had found the one they were searching for. "Have you found someone ladies?" she enquired with a polite smile.

Anne Marie looked at her and smiled warmly. "Yes!" she replied, "I think we've each found someone who would fit nicely into the group that will be attending the party."

To Anne Marie and Carolyn's delight, both Ricardo and Philippe were available the following evening. Eva quickly prepared the paperwork and sat down to explain the contract to Anne Marie and Carolyn. The cost of each escort would be seven hundred and fifty American dollars. This was a flat rate and included the services of the escort for a period of 12 hours from the time that he showed up for the engagement. All costs for meals, transportation, admissions, etc., were the responsibility of the client. If the client wished to arrange for an extension of the engagement, then the terms and conditions of the extension were subject to the approval of both the escort and the agency.

Anne Marie and Carolyn looked at each other for a few moments. Each knew what the other was thinking. Seven hundred and fifty dollars was a lot of money!. Were they really going to pay such an amount to enjoy the company of a man for a few hours? How could they justify such extravagance? Were they really sure that this was something they should be doing?

Carolyn was just about to tell Eva that they were going to have to think it over, when Anne Marie smiled at her and pointed to the picture of Philippe. Both ladies started giggling again and Anne Marie reached for the pen that Eva held in her outstretched hand.

Moments later, as the ladies were making their way down the stairs, Anne Marie looked at Carolyn and chuckled. "You know, for a someone who's just charged up seven hundred and fifty dollars on her credit card, and has no bags or parcels to show for it, I feel pretty damned happy."

They quickly hailed a cab and about 10 minutes later it dropped them off at their hotel. They made jokes about their upcoming adventure as the elevator made its way up to their floor. Their hired escorts would be picking them up at the hotel at 8 p.m. the following evening. They'd be dressed in semi formal attire and would arrive in separate vehicles. Both Anne Marie and Carolyn agreed that they didn't want this to be a double date. In fact neither had any intention of staying at the party any longer than was politically necessary. They wanted to spend some romantic time alone with their chosen squires. What better way to see Madrid than on the arm of a tall, dark, handsome Spaniard?

Anne Marie asked Carolyn if she wanted to join her for a nightcap, but Carolyn begged off. She was starting to feel exhausted from all of the hours spent at the convention. Tonight she was going to turn in early and get caught up on some much needed sleep. Back in her suite, she ran a quick shower and a few minutes later was in her bed with the lights out.

Sleep came quickly and her dreams were pleasantly erotic. At their center was the handsome face of Philippe Angeles, the tall attractive Spaniard with the deep, dark, mysterious eyes. They glowed compellingly and beckoned to Carolyn's warm inner female center. She felt his hands moving softly over her as she slept, felt his lips brushing gently along the delicate lines of her neck, felt his warm breath against her throat. Her body was awakening to long ignored physical needs. Needs that she'd subordinated to her career goals; needs that a handsome bronze face in a photograph had awakened.

Carolyn wasn't a prude and she certainly wasn't sexually inhibited, but she'd never really placed a great deal of importance on sex and relationships with men. She was highly intelligent and had attended university on an academic scholarship. While there, she choose to devote all of her time to her studies to ensure that she wouldn't lose her scholarship. Since getting her job with Exyberkraft, she'd dated occasionally but never allowed herself to become serious about anyone. She was an achiever! School and career had always come first. In fact, until recently, she'd always believed that romantic relationships were a waste of time, something that she preferred to leave to less motivated people.

Still, over the past several months, she'd been having second thoughts. She was becoming more and more prone to periods of loneliness. Of late, she frequently found herself dreaming about having a steady boyfriend or lover, someone to talk to in the evenings, someone to hold her in his arms in bed at night, someone to answer the hot, sensual passions that seemed to be growing in urgency as the months passed. She didn't completely understand the emotions, but was convinced that they had something to do with the fact that she was fast approaching her sexual peak.

Carolyn didn't consider herself a beauty. Although she was an attractive woman who enjoyed more attention from men than most of her friends, she thought of herself as more or less average looking. She was about five and a half feet tall, with dark brown hair, hazel eyes and smooth white skin. Her figure was appealing, but she wasn't the buxom type, nor did she have the perfectly proportioned, hour glass shape that stopped traffic on the beach. She worked conscientiously at keeping herself attractive by maintaining a regimen of careful grooming combined with plenty of exercise and a healthy diet.

When she awoke several hours later, the warm Spanish sun was streaming brightly through her curtains. She was amazed at how revitalized she felt. She jumped out of bed and bounced happily into the washroom to apply her makeup. This was the last day of the convention and she was excited at the prospect of finally getting the business component of her visit to Madrid out of the way. Just as importantly, she was looking forward to meeting her handsome Spanish escort that evening.

To her dismay, the day went slowly. The speakers droned on even more monotonously than they had the day before. By lunch time, boredom was hanging over her head like a grey cloud. Time was dragging along in a way seldom allowed in her hurried life. She waited impatiently for the long queue of speakers to finally end. Only then could she finally begin preparing for her evening of partying in the company of her handsome, olive skinned Spaniard.

After what seemed an eternity, the last speaker was introduced. He seemed to sense the growing impatience amongst the attendees, so spent little time on humour and anecdotes. He was finished shortly before six o'clock and there was a palpable feeling of relief as the Master of Ceremonies declared the convention a success and invited all to join him in the hotel's main meeting room where they could sip wine and network with newly discovered contacts.

Carolyn made a polite appearance at the windup in the main room, but it was day seven of the convention and she was no longer in a business frame of mind. She felt relieved that the event had finally come to a close. For her it had been a great success and she was quite pleased with the contacts that she'd made. She had single mindedly ferreted out all of those industry visionaries and technical pundits whose articles she assiduously read in the trade journals. She'd followed most of their careers carefully over the years and had not been the least hesitant to approach them and let them know how much she admired their work. Many had heard of her achievements and, in some cases had searched her out first. Doubtlessly, it had been one of the most fulfilling experiences of her life and one that she'd treasure for years. But she was glad that it was finally over so she could relax and enjoy the short time remaining in her visit to Madrid.

She made her way quickly out of the conference room. Philippe would be arriving at 8 o'clock sharp and she only just under two hours to get ready. She headed to the lobby and waited for the elevator doors to open. As she was waiting, she realized that a large group, comprised of others who'd also decided to leave the conference, was quickly approaching the elevators.

"Oh great!" she thought. "I'm in a hurry and a couple of hundred people want to use the elevator that I'm waiting for!" She also knew that there would be several people in that same crowd who'd want to chat with her and she just didn't have the time.

"I'm only on the fourth floor," she thought aloud. "Why not just take the stairs? It would be a lot faster and besides, I could use the exercise after all of the sitting I've been doing for the past week."

She quickly turned and made her way across the lobby to the stairway entrance. The stairwell was not particularly well lit and had a slightly musty smell, but she didn't care! She was in a hurry and quickly started the climb to the fourth floor. About half way up, she dropped the heavy binder that she was carrying and it bounced heavily down to the flight below, spilling the contents out onto the landing.

"Oh no!" she gasped, "I just don't have time for this!"

She turned and began to rush back down the stairs, but in her hurry, she caught the heel of her shoe on the edge of one of the stairs. She fell, landing heavily on the binder and spilled literature. The materials cushioned her fall and although she'd gotten the wind knocked out of herself, she didn't think anything was broken. She sat there for a few moments, just to be sure that she wasn't seriously injured and then stood up.

She felt a rush of relief as she realized that she was able to stand, but her relief was short lived. A stabbing pain shot through her left ankle. She knew right away that she must have twisted it when her heel caught on the stair. She quickly picked up the binder and the spilled materials and again mounted the stairs. As she continued her ascent, the pain began to worsen. Although it was twisted, the ankle still functioned well enough to get her up to the fourth floor.

She heaved a sigh of relief as she made her way along the corridor to the entrance to her room. By the time she'd unlocked the door, the pain had intensified to the point where she knew that this was not a problem that would disappear with a couple of aspirins and a long soak in a hot bath. She hopped over to the sofa on one foot, turned and fell back into the soft pillows. She realized that the pain was not nearly so severe when the foot had no weight on it.

After resting for a few minutes, the gravity of the situation began to register. "What about my date with Philippe?" she wondered. "I'll have to call the agency and cancel!" She reached for her purse on the coffee table and frantically dug out the agency's number. Then she grabbed the phone from the end table and dialled it quickly.

She was relieved to find that Eva was still at work. She quickly explained that she'd fallen and hurt her ankle and that she would have to cancel her appointment with Philippe. Eva was genuinely sorry about her mishap, but politely informed Carolyn that cancellation was impossible. The company's policy was quite clear and was spelled out very carefully in its contract with each customer. Cancellations could only be made on 24 hours notice.

"But I'm not going to be able to go to the party!" Carolyn protested. "I don't need an escort to a party that I'm not attending!"

"I understand," Eva explained politely, "But there's nothing I can do. It's not fair to our escorts to allow last minute cancellations. This is how they make their living."

Carolyn realized that her protests were in vain. She understood that Eva was right and that she was only doing her job. She thanked her and made her way cautiously into the washroom to run a warm bath. Minutes later, she was lying in the tub, relaxing and soaking up the relief that the hot water was bringing to her injured ankle. It was slightly swollen and she wondered if she shouldn't see a doctor before she left Madrid. She thought about calling the front desk and finding out where the nearest doctor was, but the water felt so comfortable that she decided instead to give herself and her ankle a moment of well deserved rest. Minutes later she was fast asleep.

She awoke with a start when her phone rang. She'd taken her watch off when she got into the bath and had no idea how long she'd been asleep. She gingerly raised herself up and stepped out of the tub. She grabbed her watch from the bathroom vanity and looked at it through the steam. It was 7:45. She'd been asleep for more than an hour. She hopped out to the sofa, picked up the phone and called the front desk. A clerk answered almost immediately.

"Hello!" said Carolyn, "This is Ms. Sinclair in room 423. My phone just rang."

"Oh yes Ms. Sinclair" the clerk replied. "A Mr. Angeles called just a few minutes ago to confirm your eight o'clock appointment. He wanted us to tell you that he was just leaving."

Carolyn stood there like a stone statue, a look of absolute horror on her face. Finally, she blurted out, "Thank you!" and hung up the phone. "Oh no!", she muttered angrily. "Please tell me this isn't happening!"

She couldn't understand why Eva had not informed Philippe of her accident. Perhaps she hadn't been able to reach him. She hobbled into her bedroom, looked in the mirror, and almost screamed when she saw the tangled wet mop sitting atop the exhausted, pain raked face that looked back at her. "Oh God! It looks like I've got my work cut out for me!" she exclaimed dolefully.

She stood there, looking at the reflection before her in silent terror. Then, with a cynical shrug, remarked, "I have fifteen minutes to turn you into a ravishing beauty." She scoffed sardonically at her own silly comment and reached for the hair dryer. "This guy is going to wonder what kind of a nut hired him." She gave one final acerbic chuckle and then, with most of her weight resting on her good ankle, she began the transformation.

Her hair hadn't gotten very wet and with the hair blower set on maximum, she was able to get it manageably dry in about five minutes and in the ten minutes that followed, she was able to get enough make up on her face to pass for a reasonable facsimile of her usual self. As she was hopping over to the closet to get out her clothes, there was a knock at the door.

"Damn it!" she muttered with a shrug of surrender, "I guess this just isn't my day!" She grabbed a robe from the closet and pulled it on. She was naked beneath it and paused for a moment to make sure that the tie was carefully secured. Then she hopped over to the door. She stood there for a moment, her heart in her mouth and the doorknob in her hand. Perhaps she shouldn't answer she thought. Her mind and her pulse were racing. How would she ever explain the current state of affairs without looking like a blundering boob? But something compelled her to open the door. She peeked out cautiously.

The moment she saw him, all of her frenzied mental activity ceased. The pain in her ankle no longer existed. All of her angst evaporated. She just stood there peering out at him. She was speechless!

Philippe bowed graciously and in a voice that reverberated with a soft, silky resonance said, "Good evening. I'm Philippe Angeles. Are you Carolyn Sinclair?"

Carolyn giggled nervously. God this man was beautiful. "Yes! Yes! I am." she stammered, "Please come in Mr. Angeles."

As he stepped in the door, Carolyn could see that the picture at the agency didn't do justice to his appearance. He was over six feet tall. His hair was as black as ink at midnight and ran smoothly back from his temples in rich, lustrous waves. His face was clean shaven and his skin shone like deeply polished bronze. And his eyes! Oh such eyes he had! They were a deep chestnut color and glowed beneath his dark eyebrows like sparkling pools of liquid sensuality.

He smiled warmly at Carolyn as he made his way through the door. His teeth were perfect; meticulously polished and shining in radiantly white contrast with his dark complexion. As their eyes met, Carolyn's knees turned to rubber. She felt as if her lower abdomen was being squeezed in the jaws of a vise.

He took her hand in both of his and raised it gently to his lips. Carolyn noticed that his hands were large and intimidatingly powerful, yet they held hers with a gentle softness that set her pulse racing and made her breath catch in her throat. As he pressed his lips graciously against the back of her hand, she had to choke back a silly schoolgirl giggle that she felt pushing up against the back of her throat. His lips lingered at her hand for only a moment and then he raised his head to once again look into her eyes.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Carolyn." His voice reached all the way to the depths of her womanhood, evoking emotions that she'd never before experienced. The touch of his hand on hers ignited fireworks in her brain. They exploded in shimmering showers of fiery sensuality that left her standing in silence. She was looking back into his eyes with a near shocked look on her face. She felt dazed!

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Carolyn replied, in a voice that sounded like she was talking into a plastic cup. "It's my pleasure Mr. Angeles. I'm very pleased to meet you." She was a professional woman, confident and proud of her intellect and communications skills. She quickly recaptured her momentarily lost composure and invited Philippe to have a seat on the sofa.

He moved gracefully to the sofa and then stood there, waiting for Carolyn to come over and be seated. As she started toward him, he realized right away that she was limping and in obvious pain. He was at her side immediately, one strong arm went around her waist, and supported her gently while the other held her arm and guided her carefully to the sofa.

Carolyn could feel herself losing her composure again. She giggled nervously and looked up at Philippe as they made their way to the sofa. "I fell and twisted my ankle while I was coming up the stairs. The conference I'm here to attend had just ended and I was rushing to get ready for the party. I called the agency and explained to Eva, but I guess she wasn't able to reach you. There's no need for you to stay. I'll just watch TV for a while and then go to bed. I just wish this hadn't happened right at the end of my stay in Madrid. It sure puts a damper on my plans."

She knew she was prattling. God how she hated it when she prattled! But it was a nervous habit that she'd had since childhood. She whispered to herself under her breath, "Get a grip Carolyn!"

Philippe gently held her as she turned to sit on the sofa. Her face was looking up into his as he lowered her carefully to a sitting position. They were only inches apart and her face burned crimson at the fleshly thoughts that crossed her mind as she looked into the deep, darkly erotic mirrors that were his eyes. "My God!" she thought, "This guy is so handsome he's got me acting like a teenager with her first crush."