Research for the Erotic Writer

“You’re late.”

The brunette shrugged and put a hand on her chest.  “Hooker.”

Socrates laughed.  “You think you’re Jack Sparrow now?”  He stood and gave her cheek a quick kiss.

“No, you stupid fuck, then I’d be a pirate.”

Both laughed before Socrates spoke, “How’s business?”

Her black gloved hand smacked his chest.  “Why do you always ask that?”

He stepped behind her and pulled her long black coat off her shoulders.  He folded it once and put it in on the seat.  “This is a professional relationship.”

“True, but…”  She stood for a moment with her long black skirt swaying at her ankles and her satin navy blouse shining in the light.  Her brunette curls slipped a few inches over each shoulder.

“Please.”  He gestured to the plastic booth seat.

She smiled and slipped in.

Socrates sat across from her.  “Seriously, Drew, how’s business?”

Her eyes widened with alarm.

“I’m sorry, Crystal.”

She laughed.  “Did I tell you that?”

“Yes, you told me that a year ago.”  He sipped from the beer in front of him.  “By the way, being m’lady was late, I got you the rum and Coke you normally start with.”

A smile and Drew began to peel her gloves off before drinking.

“So what should I call you then?”

“Drew is good.  Makes it harder to take your money, but it works.”

A nod and a laugh.  “So, how’s…”

She waved his words off.  “How’s business?  Nine since I saw you two weeks ago.”

“So not quite down to the three a week you are aiming at.”

“Getting close, though.  At five hundred a pop, it is hard to give up the money.”

“You do realize that an old porn actress…gorgeous woman, I might add, went by the name Drew.”

She shrugged.  “Didn’t know that.  Should I?”

The music in the Irish pub turned to Phil Collins singing, “This is the world we live in…these are the hands we’re given…”

“She was softcore.  Not sure, but in the early to mid-90s I think.  Has some really hot layouts with old Rocco Siffredi.”

This name brought a smile.  “Him I know.  Would love an Italian lover like that.  I’d pay him, for fuck sake.”

Socrates thumbs flew across the face of his Blackberry as he took a few notes.  “Okay, nine guys.”

“Yeah, and none were memorable…at all.”  She sipped her drink and shook her head as her green eyes rolled.  “One did…um…think his name was Darryl…he did have a huge dick, but that was it.”

“So size does matter?”

“Honey, sometimes it is the only thing a guy has.  Normally, a long dick means it is harder to keep him hard and it takes some work to get him all in.  Remember your boy, Siffredi, for example…he could hurt me with that monster.  Darryl wasn’t that big, though.”

Socrates took more notes as they continued to talk and drink…drink and talk…talk and drink.  Neither were feeling any pain when he had the funniest sensation of Drew’s toe running along his ankle…”Hey, what are you doing?” his question was gentle and smiling before his eyes moved to his beer belly.


“Drew, you are beautiful.”

She smiled and her chin dropped to her chest as she could not keep eye contact.

“This is business, though.”

“I know,” she said and waved him off with a hand.  Her body swayed slightly with all the drinks they had been enjoying.  “But…”

“But nothing.  You don’t need to do that with me.”

Her eyes lifted and met his.  Her mouth opened to say something, but only silence came out.

Socrates called over the waiter.  “We need a cab, please.”

The waiter was a young stocky linebacker type.  “Cabs are all waiting out front.  No need to book.”

Socrates got up and helped Drew to her feet.  He pulled her coat and held it for her to slip back into.  From behind he hugged her and whispered down into her ear, “Thank you.  You’ve no idea the help you are.”

Drew smiled and turned around to return the hug.  “Why are you so nice to me?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She linked her hand into his arm and allowed him to lead her out.  “I wish you’d come home with me.”

Socrates smiles and slipped her five twenty-dollar bills.  Pulling the cab door open for her, he helped her sit.  Turning to the cabbie, he handed him fifty and said, “This should cover where she needs to go.”

“Yes, sir,” the cabbie responded and turned away.

Turning back to Drew, Socrates said, “As for you, my darling Drew, as I already said you don’t need to do that with me.  Thank you.”  He kissed her cheek, stepped back and closed the cab door.

Drew sat and watched Socrates as they pulled away from the curb.

He stood in his jeans and orange golf shirt under a black wind-breaker.  His goatee and hair were mostly grey.  He waved, just once, and turned to get in the next cab.

She whispered to him, “What if I want to do that with you?”

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