“Well, no. But it escalated quickly. My friend was part of the negotiation because I was such a newbie to actual sex work, and it came up that there was an opening for Butterflies at La Mariposa this year. My friend said I’d be perfect if I were interested. Took some convincing, and I was definitely hesitant, but…” Eden shrugged. “I was already intrigued by the concept when the number dropped. I couldn’t say no.”
“I’d think most young women would balk.”
“I’ve done… adjacent sex work, I guess you could say. Like, I never thought of myself as an escort before last weekend, but I’ve had sugar daddies.” Suddenly, she struggled to look at him again. “Why am I telling you that?”
“Indeed. I am a sugar daddy age now.” Was that her interest in this? Benson already assumed part of his appeal was his money, as displayed by his appearance at La Mariposa. He would not be surprised if any young woman entertaining him began making kissy lips in exchange for rent and handbags.I’m not interested in that.He didn’t mind helping out his lovers when he could, but he liked the idea of someone who could support themselves if necessary. Even Sydney had her non-profit work that she segued into after the divorce.Made me feel less guilty about my side of our problems.He could have asked for Drew full-time or thrown more money at the kid to ensure rent was paid and food was on the table, but Benson knew it was best for Drew if both of her parents could work and provide for her. Sydney hadn’t even stopped working after remarrying.I’ve got a type.And he didn’t mean physically.
Oh, he never meant physically. Those tastes were all over the place and completely dependent on the lover in question. Sydney had been plenty attractive throughout their whole relationship, and Eden couldn’t look more different from her. But she was absolutely, unequivocally the kind of woman that made Benson want to shove all the dishes and candles off the table and get on top of her right now.
He tossed his napkin in his lap, as if anyone would notice him getting semi-erect.Save it for later, kid.
“I didn’t expect to like it as much as I did, that’s for sure,” Eden said, sparing him a giggly smile that made him twitch again below the belt. “Suppose the right person helped. You were…” Oh, there it was. Sweet, pure joy flickering betweenher scrunching nose and curling lips. “You were my first that weekend. You know what they say.”
“What?”
“You never forget your first.”
It was a good thing she had established she had been with other men out here off the island, because he might take that to mean she was a virgin.No, just her first guest as a Butterfly.He’d say it was an honor, but it was the wrong time for that.
“Here we are,” he said, “reminiscing about last weekend over Thai food.”
She seemed amused by that, which was his ticket to asking her softer questions, such as about her hometown, how long she had been in New England, and what she thought of the local clam chowder.It’s better in Providence.Turned out, Eden didn’t like most seafood that wasn’t a straight fish. The clam chowder was lost on her here.
In turn, she asked about his daughter, what he liked to do during his downtime, and his favorite places he had traveled. While these were all bog-standard questions for a proper first date, he appreciated her ability to keep the conversation flowing in between bites of dinner and acting like this was a relationship that was going anywhere beyond a few weeks of dithering around until they realized they didn’t have much else in common besides sex.Not that I’m a pessimist.Jaded. That was a good word to describe Benson Smith at this point in his life.
They both had one drink besides water and finished their dinners with no leftovers. After the waiter took their dishes away, Benson paid the check. Eden did not offer, and he appreciated that they didn’t do that dance. It was his point of view that if a man asked a woman out, he paid.Then, at some point, you’re married, so it’s “our" money, anyway.
He supposed that was a bit old-fashioned. And while Benson didn’t always want to be old-fashioned, this was one area where he didn’t mind one bit.
Just like the next part.
“I only live a few blocks from here,” he announced when she came back from the restroom at the end of the meal. “I’ve got my car. I can take you home.”
“Whose home?”
Benson was so caught off guard by that question and the quizzical look on her face that he didn’t answer at first. “I suppose it doesn't matter. I could drop you off at your place. Or…”
“You’re inviting me back to your place.”
“Fuck,” he said with a large sigh. “I can’t wait untilthisdate is over and we've made it to the end of the very fucking awkward stage of silences and conversations that dance around what we’re both thinking.”
She cocked her head. “What are we both thinking?”
It was an invitation to flirt. Or be seductive. Sometimes, it was hard for Benson to tell the tenuous difference between the two – especially when it all led to the same place.My bed.
“There was only one thing I wanted from you last weekend that you couldn’t give me,” he said, catching her gaze so she would see how serious he was. “Staying the night with me.”
The corner of her mouth slightly twitched as she vainly attempted to hide a flattered smile. “Those rules don’t apply anymore, do they?”
“No, they don’t, Eden Hailstone.”
He used her real name to remind her that this wasn’t La Mariposa. They were beyond their code names now.I know your hometown and that you used to have sugar daddies. You know I went to Brown and have a daughter.Things that could have gotten them into serious trouble on La Mariposa, whereanonymity was almost more sacred than what happened to each other’s bodies.
“They sure don’t, Benson Smith.”
She donned her coat before getting up.
“Your place.” She waited for him to get moving, too. “For a nightcap. We’ll see where it goes from there.”