I have been working for a while in my writing, opinions please…

He is a male escort. She is a married but lonely and frustrated wife and has hired him for the evening. This is their first meeting…

The rain had started just as she stepped through the door.

Not the dramatic kind that belonged in films, but a fine London drizzle that clung to her coat and turned the pavement outside into a mirror of blurred headlights.

She paused just inside the bar, brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek.

And that was when he looked up.

He hadn’t meant to stare. He’d been halfway through answering an email, his attention somewhere between the glowing screen and the glass beside it. But something about her made him forget both.

She wasn’t the loudest person in the room. She wasn’t even trying to attract attention.

Perhaps that was what caught him.

She glanced around, searching for someone, then looked directly at him.

For a second, neither of them looked away.

It was nothing. A moment. A coincidence.

Except neither of them seemed quite ready to let it end.

She smiled first.

Small. Almost uncertain.

He returned it.

Then she walked towards the empty table beside his.

“Is this seat taken?”

He glanced at the chair.

“Depends.”

She raised an eyebrow. “On what?”

“Whether you’re planning to be interesting.”

A quiet laugh escaped her.

“That’s a fairly high expectation for a chair.”

“I’ve been disappointed before.”

She looked at him for a beat, as though deciding whether she liked him.

“And if I am?”

He smiled.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to make an effort.”

She sat down.

“That sounds dangerous.”

“Does it?”

“A little.”

Their eyes met again.

Neither looked away this time.

She reached for the menu, but her attention remained on him.

“So,” she said, “are you always this welcoming to strangers?”

“Only the ones who interrupt my evening.”

“I interrupted your evening?”

“You did.”

She glanced at his untouched laptop.

“Seems like I did you a favour.”

He looked at her, then quietly closed the laptop.

“Maybe you did.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Outside, the rain continued against the windows.

Inside, neither seemed particularly interested in leaving.

She placed the menu down without opening it.

“I should probably tell you something,” she said.

“That sounds ominous.”

“It might be.”

He waited.

She looked at him for a moment, then gave a faint, self-conscious smile.

“I’m not usually very good at this.”

“At ordering drinks?”

“At asking for what I want.”

Something in the way she said it changed the air between them.

He didn’t tease her this time.

“Maybe you don’t have to ask yet.”

Her eyes lingered on his.

“Maybe I don’t.”

The waiter appeared, and they ordered almost absently. When he left, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and exhaled slowly.

“You’re different from what I expected.”

“That could be good or bad.”

“I haven’t decided.”

“I like those odds.”

She laughed softly.

He noticed the tension in her shoulders ease.

“You seem nervous,” he said.

“I am.”

“Why?”

She hesitated.

“Because I’ve spent a long time being sensible.”

“And tonight?”

Her gaze dropped briefly to the table before returning to him.

“Tonight I wanted to remember what it felt like to be wanted.”

The honesty of it caught him off guard.

He leaned back slightly, giving her space rather than taking it.

“Then let’s not rush it.”

She studied his face.

“You’re very calm.”

“I’ve learned that anticipation is often more interesting than certainty.”

A slow smile appeared.

“That’s a dangerous thing to say to someone like me.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m beginning to think you know exactly what you’re doing.”

“I know what I’m doing,” he said. “But I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

For the first time that evening, she looked genuinely flustered.

And he smiled.

Not triumphantly.

Just enough to let her know that he’d noticed.

She reached for her wine.

“Perhaps,” she said quietly, “that’s the point.”

He watched her take a sip.

Then she set the glass down.

“I should tell you something else.”

He smiled faintly. “Another ominous confession?”

“No.”

She reached into her handbag and placed a small envelope on the table between them.

His eyes dropped to it.

“What’s that?”

“Your fee.”

“I thought we were having dinner first.”

“We are.”

He looked at the envelope again.

“Then why give it to me now?”

Her expression changed.

The nervousness disappeared.

“I don’t want you to think I hired you because I’m lonely.”

He waited.

She leaned closer, lowering her voice.

“I hired you because I need someone to do things my husband would never do.”

His smile faded.

“And what’s that?”

She held his gaze...