Weekend Trip Away from London

A trip to Wales had been on the table for months. Clarke Malkovich, who had once lived in London and quite close to Carla, had moved out to Wales six months ago, and she had only heard from him three times. Any other contact had been initiated by her, and more than once she had hinted on a trip to see him. He was one of her better clients; polite, not too rough, confident, and rich as hell. He was already paying her six thousand for her escort services while he lived in England; she was sure he could spare more to give her a vacation.

That day came, and Carla found herself in another country. The accommodations set up for her were beautiful; a ‘cabin’ (could something this large be considered a cabin?) overlooking the Black Mountain, with a wall entirely made of glass for her to look out on it. The whole place was made of wood, though the appliances and furniture were all of more modern make. The single bedroom was spacious, granting a romantic setting. And in front of that window-wall, Clarke had set up a table, two chairs, and a nice spread of food that he had made himself. The wine was fantastic, too.

“How are you enjoying Wales?” Clarke asked as he cut into his salmon and speared it with his fork. Carla could only smirk as she raised her soft gaze to his.

“I’ve only been here for a day, and I’ve spent all of my time preparing for you,” she said. “I can’t say I’ve seen enough to judge.”

“Well, what about this?” he asked, gesturing out of the window at the mountain view.

“I can’t say I’m complaining about getting paid to enjoy a mountain view,” Carla acknowledged. “I never really knew how much I appreciated this kind of scenery until now.” He should have invited her out much sooner. This was the kind of quiet relaxation she had needed for quite some time now. She loved being an escort in London, but being in this kind of silence gave her a different perspective on her fast city life.

They ate their meals, exchanging their usual amount of conversation. They had been apart for a while, but Carla was thrilled to realize that it was just like every other time they had been out together: comfortable, pleasant, and not forced. As she finished her own salmon, she gave quiet thanks to whatever being out there for small favors.

“Any reason you decided to keep me in for the night?” Carla asked, playful, as she folded her napkin and set it atop her empty plate. She wasn’t complaining in the least – a quiet night in was just what she needed – but she was curious.

“I’ve been working too much,” Clarke replied simply. “I’m done dealing with the public. We’ll have private, indoor dates while you’re here, you’ll go home with a shit-ton of money, and we’ll both be happier for it.” Getting up, he walked into the kitchen located to the far right of the sprawling room they were in, and reached into a bottom drawer next to the sink. When he lifted up again, he held a tequila bottle.

“Shot?” Clarke asked with a smirk. Carla laughed. She had always wanted to snag a picture of a drunk client in the wilderness…