Dinner With Caren

Image of a glass with a straw in it and candlelight in the background to go with my story Dinner with Caren.

Her warm eyes caressed his face, while her hand gently rests on his. The white linen tablecloth concealed her foot resting between his legs. He smiled at her and did his best not to squirm, feeling his excitement growing. Caren smiled at him as she removed her foot, lifted the wineglass to her lips, and took a sip.

“I’ve been out with the girls today while you were at work,” she said.

“I know,” he played along, “I saw some transactions on the credit card. Shoes, I believe?”

He just had to turn her attention back to her feet.

“Yes,” she said, and a shy smile formed on her face. “I know you like it when I wear beautiful shoes.”

“Because beautiful feet need to be decorated,” he agreed, slipped his hand under the table, and gently caressed her foot, which rested against his half-firmness.

This was what he wanted.

What he longed for.

An evening with a beautiful woman; an evening where he was the center of attention, where he felt special and loved and cared for. And that is what Caren was giving him in the most expert way. Looking into her eyes, he almost forgot how they came to be in this luxury restaurant.

Almost.

Three weeks ago, on yet another of his business trips, the loneliness hit Harold hard. Trip after trip, he booked into the most expensive hotels and occupied beautiful rooms overlooking city centers four nights in a row while doing several business meetings during the daytime. His days were busy, and frequently dinner was with a business associate, but there were also evenings he had dinner alone or sat at a bar nursing a martini while doing his best to keep the jealousy at bay when seeing a loving couple.

On one such night, he left his half-full glass on the bar and took the elevator to his bedroom. A beautiful woman and a handsome man on the other end of the bar who were so into each other had emphasized his loneliness.

In his hotel room, standing in front of the window and looking out at the horizon, he knew what he had to do.

Harold didn’t want to be lonely anymore. He was almost always traveling, and frankly, at home, he was lonely too. There was no one waiting for him. No wife. No kids. No special someone.

No one.

He turned to the desk. Determined. Opened his laptop, then the browser, and typed: escort.

Thousands of hit results popped onto his screen, and he started narrowing it down by typing in more search words. For the better part of that night, he sifted through the results until narrowing it down to only a handful.

Being the sensible man he always was, Harold left the search results on his browser, closed his laptop, went to the bathroom, and went to bed. If he still felt the same way the next day, he would go for it.

Of course, as things always go, the next day he was too busy to give any attention to it. He was already back home and preparing for his next trip when he visited some websites of the escort bureaus he had found.

His wandering mind snapped back to the voluptuous redhead across from him.

What’s between them feels… special.

She treated him like he was the most important man in her life, just the way he wanted it. Caren’s loving eyes, the way she held his hand, the way she played with him under the table, showing him how much she desired him…

Tonight, she was his girlfriend.

There was no truth in their jibber-jabber of their respective days, but it felt real to him. She told him about the shopping she has done, the lunch with her best friend, and asked him about his meetings like a girlfriend should.

The server appeared next to the table.

“Can I get you anything else?”

Harold looked at Caren, who shook her head and held up her hand.

“No, I’m fine,” she said.

“Me too,” Harold agreed and flinched a bit when Caren moved her foot to his center.

“May we have the check?” he managed to say.

The server returned with a leather folder and handed it to Harold. While he busied himself with his credit card, Caren discreetly slipped a white envelope into her purse.

They left the restaurant hand in hand and sashayed the short distance to his hotel. Almost there, Harold pulled Caren into his embrace.

They kissed.

Long and lingering.

Exploring.

As their kiss stopped, Harold looked down at Caren.

“Thank you for a lovely evening,” he said.

Caren smiled, hugged him close, and whispered in his ear: “Maybe you want a masseuse in your room next time? I do that too, you know.”

Harold watched as she got into the cab he had flagged down, and now regretted having only booked the ‘girlfriend experience’ but knew for the first time with an escort, it was the best thing to do.

Next time, when he was in this city, he wanted Caren the masseuse, or maybe Caren the dominatrix, to visit his room.

He turned away from the street, greeted the doorman, and headed to the bar for one last drink, a smile playing around his lips when he thought of his evening with Caren.

© Rebel’s Notes
Photo by Eve Lyn on Unsplash


This post first appeared on my Medium profile, where you can read more of my work that is exclusive to Medium. You can read three stories for free on Medium each month, but for just $5 a month (less if you sign up for a year) you can read everything on Medium, and support me, and other writers you like.


Wicked Wednesday stops at the end of the year. Currently, there’s a challenge to complete 25 prompts by 31 December. Following the clever example of others, here you see the prompts I have already completed. My goal is to write for every one of the Wicked Wednesday Bingo Prompts. Join in!
This story answers to the prompt: career success

My stories for the prompts are:

  1. Harmony In Flowers (language of flowers)
  2. Listening To Her Inner Voice (intimacy and self-esteem)
  3. Annual Meeting On Summer Solstice (summer solstice)
  4. The Healing Power Of A Penis Masturbator (phases of life)
  5. To Love Is A Choice (to love is a choice)
  6. Live The Life You Want (scary stuff)
  7. The story above (career success)

2 thoughts on “Dinner With Caren

  1. I think there is something to be said about buying an experience. Isn’t; that what we do anyway in our lives?
    Really cuts out the guessing game 🙂
    Great tale Marie.

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