The Escort

Updated: Feb 25


I’ve been bought to make your night special, and don’t worry baby; I will!


It's another Saturday, another party, and once again I’m the center of it. I enjoy it. Without words or actions, I spin a web of control through the guests around the table. They smile at me, unknowingly. A caress along my neck. A sigh. I'm irresistible and I know it!



The cold fall wind huffs outside, the candles flicker in the draft and there’s condensation on the dark window as the final proof of the heat of the night. It steams through the loud laughter that echoes between us. Tonight is a good night!


The guests are usuals. A strong core of friendship who dwells in each other’s words and laughs long before the stories are told to end. I smile to myself and enjoy being part of their love. I've been carefully chosen. I’ve been turned in hand, measured, and weighed. I’ve received the critical look, the long sigh of contemplation, and finally the short nod of approval. I'm a privilege and it’s an honor to be included in the party and sit among friends, steak, and potatoes. Though I'm the stranger in the company, the new and unknown, I'm already a part of the family. They’ve accepted me. Who else to share the stories and anecdotes with? And who better to break the cold ice of silence than a charmer like myself?

I’ve been to many parties like the one tonight. It’s no secret, but if they knew, they might think me a cheater of their confidences. The truth is, that they are not as special as they think. They are as ordinary as everyone. Truth is, they don’t even need me at the table. What they have together is already enough. But now that I'm here, they cannot take their eyes off me. They are attracted to my passion. They want to taste the unknown and enjoy my exotic heat. Truth is, they will all confide their secrets to me before the night is over. They won’t be able to resist.


I reclaim my spot at the table again. Loudly, as ceremony prescribes, and everyone knows that it’s the end of the anecdotes. A change of subject is on its way. It’s a necessity to keep the conversation flowing, and as I understand it, it's even tradition. However tonight, I am the one steering the conversations. I take my time in thoughtful consideration. One by one, they look me in the eye and spend the moment to pack away the sweetness of colorful memories and store them safely for later use. Be nice, they beg, be sweet and gentle. I laugh. My old grandmother is sweet. I’m a ripe bitch with dark notes of desire and a dry humor you have no choice but to swallow. You reap as you sow. You’ve invited me to your table – there is no backing out.

The conversation stagger and I drive it forwards, slowly. Too much and I will be tossed away. Too little and everything will fall apart. My night must not fail. The next few minutes call for careful maneuvering of talk. Immigration? How controversial! Voices rise. Do they not know I myself am an immigrant? Do they not see the traitor lurking among them?


My ancestry spans wide. I grew up under the sun-filled sky of California but my family is originally from Italy and our roots extend all the way back to ancient Greece. How I ended up under the cold, grey skies of Scandinavia is a long story and one that is rarely shared. It doesn’t really matter anyway. I was born to entertain. I've been cultivated to godly desire and produced to your pleasure. I bring joy and heat. It rests in the darkness of my blood, and I'm good at it.

I lure people in. With a look. A smell. Promises of something better. When first I’ve started, I'm unstoppable and tonight is a good night! My audience wants me, and they let me push them right to the edge of a loud quarrel.

I hear the quivering sigh and feel her devotion. She looks at me for a long moment. This was not what we agreed on. Her eyes have a golden depth, and her lips are soft and painted. Already have they tainted my cheek despite her soft caress trying to hide it. She loves me and I can’t help but love her back. She brought me here tonight. Together, we conspire for greatness. She has whispered all of her dreams to me and has pleaded for me to help her. That is why I'm here tonight. We’ve got a plan, her and I. It's the dark liquid of invincibility that shall talk tonight and if only I can feel her warm breath on me, hear the low sigh as she swallows and shiver in the heat of her chest, then I’ll do anything for her. Tonight is hers. She needs me. A soft nudge in her mind gives her courage. We are together in this. I promise her.

“Can’t we just agree to disagree?” She interrupts the loud conversation and her hand shivers around mine. I want to touch her lips again, but I have to be patient. I push the gathering. Stare at them. I let my spiced aroma tingle between them until a sigh of unison follows. My deed is repaid with a kiss.


Shortly after, she rises from the table and I get to tag along. We receive a smile on the way and her cheeks blush so tenderly. That is why we are here and among the synthetic aroma of candles and dusty toilet rolls, we continue our plotting. She's so beautiful as she sits there, far away in dreams and with the black skirt curled around her stomach. She's so beautiful when all of her lust thumps through her in shameful desire.

Her lips get a new layer of crimson red and she blows herself a kiss in the mirror. She’s beautiful and she doesn’t need my word for it. Tonight, she’ll get everything. I guarantee it. If she surrenders to me completely, I am sure we’ll succeed. She smiles at me and we both know that it will only partly be my accomplishment. But baby, I whisper as she holds me again, it is all for you.


We take our seats again. Dramatically, loud and unstoppable. Music? I suggest and the night continues to the high tones of laughter. My heat is once again irresistible. Their love for the immigrant is endless and I fill the night with dreams of the impossible while we share saliva and sweat in the small living room that forces us to dance close.


Her hand is clenched hard around me now. I'm the deceiving point of steadiness in the dizzying night. Together, we're the balance that has been lost. Together, we're marvelously rotting. I know her now. We have become one. She has long since devoted herself to me and I’ve taken control of the evening. It is full of stars.

Out on the balcony we breathe refreshingly through a cigarette. My partner in crime. We laugh at each other and enjoy her dedication. Rot is beautiful.

She smiles now. The soft lips still touch me first, but they are no longer shy. I've given her the confidence she asked for. I've given her all of my strength. She knows what she wants and she dares tell him now. Together, we are a rush of lust. You, me, and him. We are getting everything tonight. His warm lips taste like yours. He too has fallen into my trap. It is as we planned.

“You know, I’ve never really liked red wine that much,” she says and I laugh as I trickle down her throat. It’s a sweet lie. We’ve been together all night. The evidence is everywhere. Her lipstick is branded on the glass like a tattoo of trust. My blood has darkened her tongue. Tomorrow, I’ll leave her with a headache of regret but now, right here, right in this moment, we are living.


I’ve been bought for this occasion. I’ve been hired to break the ice. I live for your desire, and your desire only.

My name is Zinfandel, and baby, tonight I’ll make your dreams come true.




#shortstory #valentine #love #wine



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