Emotional Outlets | ✓

1

New York City is buzzing with people any time of the year, any day of the week.

Puzzle's bar is only buzzing with people on payday. Tourists assume its prime location has queues at the door on weekends, but locals know it's Sixth Avenue location is reserved for deep pockets.

Clad in a red dress, one of their regular customers sits by the bar. With lipstick and stilettos to match, she's a dashing beauty sipping a G&T.

Expecting a new client, she sports the first meeting attire. All he's told her is his job and how he came to know her, a work colleague – less information than she is used to receiving. Emails were this client's particular form of communication – unusual in her businesses and individuals, more often than not used by first-time indulgers or uncertain chaps.

His tardiness yet another sign of inexperience. She gets paid by the hour, including this necessary primary dally. Ten minutes late, she resigns in the knowledge he'll be there soon. First-timers never stand her up.

Flustered, late and apprehensive, Stephan finally steps into Puzzle's bar that night. He could be one of the thirty-some other people inside who are merely escaping the rain, but his wandering eyes and excited expression convey the rain on his lapel was not what drew him in. She mentioned a red dress, that being gladly the only thing his mind is capable of remembering at the present time.

She feels a hand on her back and turns to the person with an elusive smile. Men have paid more for it than the young chap in front of her will tonight. "Good evening," the smile crowning every word.

Clear, a crystal clear voice brings him back to his senses.

"Evening," his reply is crowned with relief. "May?"

"May," blood-red lips part to confirm.

The sight of pearly whites has him into an anxious mess once again. "Sorry I'm late – had a hold up at work, then the tube stopped and –"

She's heard the speech a thousand times. But it's his first time making it and he doesn't realise its lack of necessity. Why would she cut short his reckless time spending?

Stephan is turning out to be more of a mess than he conveyed through writing. Not the first either.

She needs to interrupt him before she forgets to establish the ground rules.

"Stephan," she drawls, "I just want to clear some nuisances before we can leave this place." Her eager tone can trick the best lie detectors, "You have the amount do you not? And you are aware that I do. Not. Kiss." Her voice dropping to velvety softness, "on the lips."

Even after years of this, she fails to understand how this simple line gets so many clients to blush.

Not all, mind you.

She knows she's different. Charges more and guarantees a night. Whoever came up with the idea hookers aren't supposed to enjoy their clients' mattress?

↬ A U T H O R ' S N O T E ↫

Welcome to Emotional Outlets! Hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Good reading :)

xx

–> side note: listen to The Greatest Showman's soundtrack <33