Pretty Boy // H.S

8.

Harry

Joni took the day off today.

Last night, after perhaps the best night of my life, the best date of my life, we spent our time tangled in the sheets of the hotel bed, naked bodies pressed against each other. We didn't bring up the admission of our desire to kiss each other; it had already been dealt with when Joni denied it. The best thing she could have done, because I was so close to falling off the ledge. But the entire time we had sex, her moans bouncing off the walls every time I touched her, my own aching in my throat and threatening to rip it open, I wanted to kiss her. Even as we lay in Hyde Park, a book in Joni's hands while I sit behind her, I still want to kiss her.

I woke up first this morning. Her arms were wrapped around me, face nuzzled into my chest, breathing light and hums sweet like honey. The softest nectar pouring into my ears. As I watched her sleeping body, I wanted to press my lips to hers. I almost did. I pushed hair away from her face and lined myself up close enough to attach our lips, then I got scared. I reminded myself how impractical that would be. She's paying me. I can't allow myself to fall into such a complicated cycle of events wherein I admit how much I've fallen for this woman in a short amount of time but we still have to part ways once the week is done.

I'm an escort. This is what gives me money, sleeping with women that have too much money to spend. I give them company and acceptance, something they can't find elsewhere, and in return they provide for me. Without it, I wouldn't have a roof over my head, I wouldn't have food on the table, I wouldn't have anything that sustains me. I wouldn't even be able to stay in London and continue playing at the dingy backstreet bar every now and again where no one sees me. Something so many would look down upon but I still hold it close to my heart. It's the one thing that still connects me to my passions and dreams. I can't give that up.

Joni is a business woman. She has her whole life set. CEO at a young age, likely to start her own company one day, and eventually start a family with a man on the same level. Though she'd never say it out loud, we are far too different to even consider moving our relationship beyond this arrangement. Neither one of us are stupid. But why does it feel this way?

At the bar, I saw her as I stood on that stage, and I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Despite my attempts to focus on the person next me, my gaze belonged to her. She commanded everything within me. When she smiled I smiled, when she laughed I laughed, when she breathed, god, it felt like air was being pumped into my lungs. Completely mesmerised by her, and she has no idea.

Joni struggles with accepting any form of praise or care or love. She has been conditioned to feel like she is not worthy of it. In her life, people have left her, belittled her, degraded her, and for that the result is a woman with no self-esteem despite her achievements. But her worth goes beyond her success. Her heart is so pure, so full of affection for others, that she outshines even the sun. Her warmth exceeds it. Anyone in her life is simply in orbit of her. She is the centre of the universe, but she can't see it. If we can't have each other after this week, I at least want to make it clear how wonderful she is. I want Joni to believe it. That is my goal here.

And at the end of the week, I will leave, I will never see her again, but if she has even a small ounce of self-acceptance I will be ok. Not that she needs a man to get her there; she's far more capable than she lets on. I just need to push her in the right direction.

When she finally woke we continued laying there for a while, before she announced she'd spend the day with me after going into the office for a quick meeting. Everything else would be cleared from her schedule.

I met her in the park, a blanket from the suite and some items she told me to bring under my arms, waiting impatiently for the woman that has claimed residence in my thoughts to arrive.