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Maneuvering our bodies was definitely difficult in the tub, but I didn’t think Jeff would have been terribly smooth anywhere.  Other than the occasional quick closed-mouth peck, he still had no interest in kissing me, which wasn’t a bad thing.  I kept my head close to his neck, running my lips over his neck and shoulders, as he lifted me up and down.  Then he stopped.  He sort of lifted me off, stood up, got out of the tub, and began drying himself off.  I had no idea what was going on.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“You didn’t notice?”

Oh, shit.  He’d finished, and I hadn’t even realized.

“Of course I did.  I was asking what you are doing now.” 

That had to be the most anticlimactic orgasm I’d ever seen.  I tried to conceal the fact that I had completely missed it. I stood up to join him out of the tub, but then he got back in the water.  Okay.  This Jeff Ketel was one confusing character.

We resumed our earlier positions, leaning up against opposite walls of the tub, facing each other, and he put his feet on top of my shoulders.

“Rub my calves, please.”

No problem.  This was a hell of a lot easier than having sex.  Wow, this whole session was a breeze—no kissing, two minutes of sex, and now a leisurely calf rub.

The phone rang.  Jeff looked startled.  He leapt out of the tub and grabbed his cell phone.

“Don’t say anything,” he whispered sternly to me before he answered.

Ah.  Very interesting.  The wife, perhaps? I lay in the tub and watched him.

“Yes, yes.  No.  By six?  Okay.  Yes.  No.  Okay, bye.”  He hung up the phone with an exasperated sigh.  “I’ve got to get out of here.  This is why I needed you here earlier.”

“I’m sorry.  The driver got stuck in traffic.”

“I know, I know it’s not your fault, but it happens every time with your agency.”

“Every time?”  That seemed hard to believe.

“Yes.  And they always lie to me.  They never say what’s really happening.  I hate them.”

“How often do you use them?”

“Not very often.  Maybe once a month.”

Once a month seemed like an awful lot to me considering he hated them.  I tried to look sympathetic and apologetic as I toweled myself off. It wasn’t my place to tell him to try a different agency.

“I’m going to take a shower.  Do you want to take one after me?”

I felt like saying, “I just took a bath,” but I didn’t.  I just shook my head.  “No thanks.”  I wanted to get out of there and back into the city.

I called the driver from Jeff’s cell phone as soon as he got in the shower.  “I’ll be out of here in a few minutes.”

“See you in the parking lot,” a perky Terrence replied.

I got dressed and ready to go.  Jeff came out of the shower, dried himself off, and put his clothes back on.

“I hate your agency.  They are never honest with me.  There are always problems.”

Ah yes. Here we were again. I nodded, feeling that he had to vent. What did I care?  I was getting paid for my time. What was it to me to nod a little?  To indulge his frustrations? He complained some more as he finished dressing.  Jackie was the worst, apparently. 

“Why won’t they just be honest?  They didn’t tell me that you were waiting for the driver in Manhattan.  If they’d just told me that, it would have been okay.  But they told me that the two of you were stuck in traffic on the Long Island Expressway.  I was just on the Long Island Expressway.  I was driving around while waiting for you to get here.  I knew there weren’t any traffic jams.  I knew she was lying.”

There wasn’t really anything I could say to that.  I nodded again, hoping he’d notice I had my coat and bag on and was ready to leave.

“I called at two.  I asked for a girl at 4.  You’d think, with two hours notice, that they could get a girl here on time.”

“I’m really sorry.”

He sighed.  “It’s okay.  It’s not your fault.”

It certainly wasn’t, but that didn’t seem to be improving matters.  “I’m just glad you didn’t cancel the call.”

“I almost did, but Jackie said you were about to arrive.”

That would have been awful! To drive all the way to Long Island, only to be told that I was too late, and that he’d cancelled the call!  Terrence said some guys did that, that they called several escort agencies at once, took the girl that arrived first, and then told all the other girls to go home.  Thank god Jeff hadn’t done that.

“It would be so much easier if I could just deal with the girls directly.”  He gave me a meaningful look.  I played dumb and kept my mouth shut.

“If I didn’t have to deal with the agency, if I could just call the girl…She’d make more money, too, because she wouldn’t have to split anything.  She’d get to keep it all.”

I smiled in a noncommittal fashion.  Here we go again.  Was every guy going to try to circumvent the agency?  I wondered what would happen if I started working “independently”? Should I start breaking the rules?  I might make more money, but it wasn’t worth it to me to take the chance—I needed what little feeling of security I got from imagining that Jackie had my back—so I just kept my mouth shut.

Jeff and I said goodbye, again without a kiss, and I left to find Terrence’s car.  On the drive back, we talked further about his daughter, his different jobs, and his dreams of winning the lottery.  I was convinced he took a longer route back than he needed to merely so that he could prolong our conversation.