Chapter Text
The number on his cell phone catches him by surprise.
Mainly because Travis has no idea how this number has his cell and the fact that he has the number calling him memorized enough to recognize it.
Then again, phones didn’t used to simply have a button or two to push to call someone. No contact lists – just memory. And this particular number sparks many memories, ones that bring heat into his cheeks as he answers, “Uh, hello?”
“Hello, is this Theordore?”
Travis swallows thickly – he hasn’t heard that name in a long time, “Um, yes?”
“This is Lucy Diamond? I work as a contractor for The Gentlemen?”
“…I see.”
“Yes, well, the Duke has recommended you for a job, if you’re available.”
“…I…” Travis blinks and looks around. No one nearby can hear him. Yet he still whispers, “…I don’t…ah, really do that kind of thing anymore…”
“Yes, we are aware. You’ve been inactive since the early 2000s. However, your ratings were extremely high and you were considered one of our most outstanding Lords.”
Travis rolls his eyes. He always hated the way The Gentlemen ranked their ‘employees’. Going by old regency titles – dukes, viscounts, earls, marquesses…
‘Lord’ is an overall title, usually used for all the men who worked for the service. The escort service and Jesus, Travis rubs at his eyes. It’s not that he’s necessarily ashamed of his previous profession – far from it.
He was good at what he did – helping women with a variety of issues. More often than not they just wanted someone to talk to. When they didn’t want that, well…
Travis doesn’t like to toot his own horn, but he knows his way around a woman’s body. He might not look it, but that’s half the reason he’s so experienced. Travis had had to work harder to garner a woman’s attention than most guys.
He recognizes he’s not classically handsome, nor is he rich, well spoken, or even extremely intelligent.
But he’s blessed with…ah, other aspects. One particularly physical one that some women really seem to like and he hears nowadays they call them ‘Size Queens’.
Funny that that should play back into how The Gentlemen run their business. The clients are supposed to be treated like royalty, after all.
Still, Travis only did it for a few years, because he liked the sex and he liked the money. Now, however, he’s in his fifties and he highly doubts anyone wants to do anything like that with him and he says as much, “That might be true but, um, I’m retired, so-?”
“TED?! Is that TEDDY?!” Travis hears in the background and groans as Lucy’s cultured voice is replaced with The Duke’s, “Teddy! It’s me!”
He lets out a pained sigh, “Yeah, yeah…um, hey, Bruce…”
“Now, now – when we talk business, call me Duke!”
“I’m not calling you that!” Travis hisses and yet again looks for people who could potentially overhear him. He’s outside, having just left the grocery store for god’s sake, but still, “Besides, we’re not talking business! I gave up that business ages ago! I’m not-!”
“Look, Teddy, buddy,” Bruce comes in all consolingly, “I got a girl, right? She’s a real sweetheart. Been talking to Luce for a couple of weeks and she has a real need for a Lord of your stature, if you get what I’m saying…”
So – a size queen. Last thing Travis wants to deal with.
He opens his mouth to object more, but Bruce barrels on, “…I mean, she’s an heiress, Ted! Or, okay, not an heiress exactly, but you ever hear of the Kearneys? This family, woo boy, let me tell ya – they’re OLD money. Bought and sold huge parcels of land back in the day and are still doing it and still making money at it, even while others go belly up and-!”
“And you want the girl’s money,” Travis returns dryly, “Well, you can find some other Lord to do it, because I told you, I’m not-!”
“She wants someone older.” Bruce presses, “Don’t know if you know this, but that’s – ah – a rare request these days. Usually these dames want ‘em younger and younger, but this gal, she wants an experienced older man and I don’t got a lot…or, ah, any…on staff! So I thought to myself, why not call one of the best guys I-!”
“The answer’s still no.” Travis insists, “That part of my life is over and I have no interest in holding some trust fund baby’s hand.”
“She doesn’t want you to hold her hand! Think she wants to hold your-!”
“Goodbye, Bruce.” Travis goes to hang up, pulling the phone away from his ear but, he can hear Bruce’s voice rise in tinny desperation. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t disconnect, other than him hearing, “…sent you her profile!”
For some reason, this gives him pause. He puts the phone back to his ear, “What?”
Bruce lets out the biggest sigh of relief, “I sent you her profile! Texted it just now. Just-! Just look at it and think about it, okay, bud? Then get back to me.”
Travis just hums and finally does hang up. He sees on the screen that Bruce wasn’t kidding – a file attached in a just received text. He clicks it open and sees a pair of soft blue eyes looking back at him. The girl looks…sad. Small.
It’s probably simply due to the picture she chose to send. She’s not smiling, simply standing against a dark background wearing a dark graphic shirt, jeans, and a limp smile.
He flicks through the attached documents, reading about how she’s a vet student with a dog and a cat. She a vegan, she likes outdoor activities, and she’s read more Kurt Vonnegut than she’s comfortable with.
The last makes him smirk some, as it seems like the kind of thing someone her age wouldn’t include. Same goes for her music tastes and his eyebrows rise at the sight of Dr. Hook, Tom Waits, The Inkblots – again, not standard fare for someone her age. What’s her favorite film? The French Connection? Chinatown?
It’s also interesting because these aren’t usually the kind of notes included in a client’s background. Normally it’s much more explicit notes about what exactly they like sexually or what they’re looking for from an escort. It’s more…crass.
This girl has filled out the information as if it’s for a dating service, which she’s more than free to use, but – considering that’s clearly not where she went, he has to wonder…
There’s a single clip embedded within everything else and he clicks on it. Her face fills the screen and she looks extremely skittish, her blue eyes so wide as to almost engulf her entire face, her skin turning a shade of porcelain that suggests she’s close to fainting as she speaks softly, “I…I guess what I need is-? Is someone who won’t-? Won’t make me feel…bad? Dumb?”
She licks her lips and lets out a shaky breath before running a hand through her long dirty blonde hair, tossing it about, “It’s just-? Every…every time I’ve-I’ve tried to be with a man, I-? I freeze up. There’s no reason for it. Nothing has ever happened to me to make me like that, it’s just-? I get all in my head and I can’t relax, I can’t concentrate, I can’t-?”
Now she bites her bottom lip and Travis feels himself swallow thickly. This girl…she’s a fucking sensual ingénue and she doesn’t even know it. Eroticism rolls off of her in waves. The way she fidgets and moves – the way she plays with her mouth.
Travis can feel himself growing hard and this time he doesn’t check for any bystanders. Mainly because he’s too absorbed in watching this enchanting creature, “And I want to be…good at it. Y’know? I mean, I’m good at EVERYTHING else! DAMN good at it!”
This does draw a laugh from him. So. She can be confident. Maybe even arrogant. Interesting.
She presses on, “But when it comes to, ah-? That. I’m…not. And it annoys me. Frustrates me! Pisses me off, actually, because I want to be just as good at this as everything else so that, someday, when I fall in love, I’ll-I’ll make my partner happy.”
His response to that is so automatic, he almost says it aloud. It’s on the tip of his tongue: you don’t need that to make your partner happy. That’s just a small part of it.
But he doesn’t say it aloud because a) he’ll look like a madman and b) while he knows this to be true, he can’t claim it from his own personal experience. He’s just as alone as this girl is. Just as alone, but at least confident in his ability to satisfy his partner physically.
…shit.
“Shit.” He says aloud to himself and he scrolls up in the document to find the client’s name: Laura Kearney,
“Well, thanks a lot, Laura,” Travis grumbles under his breath, “Looks like I’m coming out of retirement.”
+
Laura is wearing a short black dress and sweating.
She doesn’t know why she’s sweating so much – the dress doesn’t leave much to the imagination, at least not in her opinion. The top is a halter neck, cloth wrapped around her throat like a choker, but the front and back are well exposed, material cut away to highlight the curve of her spine and a square neckline stopping right above the swell of her breasts, straps connect to the neck and curving beneath her arms.
She feels…naked. But she’s hot. Sweat keeps beading in strange spots on her body and she’s keeps trying to rub them away, because the last thing she wants is to smell bad. Especially not considering the light, expensive floral perfume she’s used. Expensive being the operative word.
Unlike the rest of her family, Laura has always been uncomfortable with their wealth. It sets her apart from others, highlights her differences. People either envy her or want to be her friend in hopes of a handout.
She’s hated and loved, but not in any way that she achieved. She lives her life under an uncomfortable microscope when all she wants is to cuddle up with her pets.
Her pets expect nothing from her. They give her unconditional love. They’re completely and blissfully unaware of her family’s prestige.
Of the wealth at her fingertips that she would happily forgo if it meant she could just have real, genuine friends. Real, genuine everything.
Love certainly one of those things and she has dated very little, done anything past dating even less. In her twenties and still a virgin – nothing to be ashamed of, but certainly something she’d like to overcome. This in mind, she chose to finally address it as she has other past obstacles.
With logic and determination. She couldn’t make it happen on her own or with men she’s been involved with, so why not hire an expert?
Sex work is real work, after all. If you carry no shame calling a plumber when you can’t handle leaky pipes, why feel shame when calling an escort when you can’t handle…um, a different set of pipes?
This in mind, Laura made some discreet inquires and found The Gentlemen. They’d been in operation for a very long time and, that in mind, she felt she could find someone older who could help her.
She wasn’t particularly interested in finding a grandfatherly type to teach her, no, but someone with extra miles and years under his belt didn’t bother her.
It wasn’t as if she was going to tell her father she was potentially engaging with someone his age or older. Though, to be fair, considering her father’s well known and well documented dalliances, she didn’t see why he’d care.
He’d already hooked up with women who were her age or even younger, so – tit for tat.
That was the Kearney’s for you…endless gossip rag material.
Honestly, if her mother had succeeded in her audition for 'The Real Housewives of New York'…
She hears a sound outside of her hotel suite and jumps. Is it him? Alarmed, Laura looks around for her high heels. She had had on a stunning pair, but – being heels – they had pinched, and she’d kicked them off. She struggles to find them for a moment before hearing a knock on the door.
Oh jeez!
“C-coming!” she shouts and then, thinking of that double entendre, colors even as she goes towards the door. She opens it only to find one of the hotel’s concierges with a bottle of champagne and some caviar, complimentary of course, since she booked one of the biggest high top suites. Again, another expensive purchase she would never normally make.
She directs the concierge on where to set everything down when a man appears behind him. The man is wearing a plaid dress shirt and nice black pants and she wonders if he works for the hotel only for him to ask, “Ma’am, are you Miss Kearney?”
“Yes, I am.”
“I’m, ah, Ted.”
Laura’s eyes go saucer big. This is Ted?! Her Ted?! The escort Te-! She looks him up and down.
…but…he’s so normal!
Laura doesn’t know who she expected. Probably some Hollywood Adonis type. This man is no Adonis. He has dark hair that’s receding some but sticks out in endearing angles.
There are lines on his face, showing he’s of an advanced age, but he doesn’t look ancient or rusty. His mouth is a soft line, gentle bags beneath his puppyish dark brown eyes and he’s…
He clears his throat and she realizes she must be openly staring as he asks, “Disappointed, I take it?”
“No,” she breathes and then she feels a big smile take her face, “The exact opposite, to be honest!”
His head rears back some and the expression of bafflement he makes drags a laugh from her as she shakes her head, "No, no - I'm-?! I'm sorry, but…I’m delighted. Really!”
His eyebrows rise and he crosses his arms, obviously thinking she’s having him on, but she explains, “Just-? I was-? I guess I was expecting someone intimidating and-and you’re not-?”
He smirks, “I can be.”
And for some reason that makes her falter some. It’s the way he says it…so serious. There’s a bit of a sternness to him she didn’t notice before now. It’s buried a bit beneath the simple clothing, but it’s there, and it makes her curious, just as much as it makes her feel like she should continue to stay on her toes.
The concierge wishes them well, leaving, and Laura deflates some, happy yet awkward at the knowledge that it’s just the two of them now. She waves to the champagne and caviar, “Do you-?”
“Champagne, yes. Fish eggs, I’ll pass.”
That gets another laugh out of her, and she nods in agreement, pouring both herself and him a glass. She looks at him as she plays with her glasses stem, “So, Ted-!”
“Travis.” He corrects and at her look he sighs, “I went by Theodore or Ted when I worked for the company. I don’t anymore, so I’d prefer Travis. It’s my real name.”
This makes her perk up, “You don’t work for-?”
“This is a special case.” He says and sips the champagne before elaborating, “I liked your file.”
“Oh.” She manages and its sort of a squeak more than anything. For some reason, his answer bothers her. She can’t put her finger on why. Then she finds her mouth working independent of her brain, because apparently it knows exactly why, “So, you felt sorry for me.”
Again, just raised eyebrows and Laura can’t explain why she’s suddenly angry, but she is, as she sets down her glass noisily and walks back to the windows she was looking out of. The hotel she’s staying at is a ridiculously tall skyscraper with a wildly expansive view of New York City.
It all glitters out before her, lines and lines of lights like tiny jewels sparkling throughout a vast black sea and using them as a focus seems to help her concentrate on what she has to say.
“Look, I don’t need some washed up gigolo to come and tell me how pathetic I am! Laura Kearney, the daughter of one of the richest men in the country who’s rich not on her own merit, but that of her family’s. And for the record? Being rich isn’t as fantastic as everyone thinks. Sure, I have stability and that does bring comfort, but it doesn’t bring loyalty.”
Laura shakes her head, “My first boyfriend? Max? He was from a wealthy family too. Our relationship was supposed to be a uniting of dynasties or something, but instead it fell apart because when he tried to have sex with me I-I ended up punching him in the face! Mainly because I wasn’t ready and he kept pushing and I got uncomfortable, so I fought back. I broke his nose.”
She hears a huff of laughter behind her, but refuses to acknowledge it, just rambling on, “He dumped me for that not long after and then my next boyfriend did the same and so on and so on. I haven’t had a real date in two years! I’ve just focused on my studies, but one day I…I might like to try and have a fulfilling relationship and I don’t believe I can have one if I can’t-!”
A groan leaves her and she rolls her eyes upwards, “And that’s why you’re here, but it’s probably a mistake if you came out of retirement for it, because it probably means you just want the money or to laugh at me or to enjoy my misery or all three and I don’t-!”
“It’s none of those things.” Travis returns and there’s an edge to his words. She turns and can see that he’s mad too. Mad at…her? Her back goes straight as he walks closer, “I took the job because I liked your file. Just like I said. I liked that you’re so goddamn sure of yourself in everything, but not in this, because I’m the opposite of that.”
Her eyes widen a fraction and he nods, “Yeah, I was good at this job. No doubt still am. I’m good at fucking, I promise you. I’m good at making women cum. I’m great at making them forget about anything and everything in the whole entire world, but how goddamn blissed out they feel. I’m fantastic at making them damage their vocal cords crying out in ecstasy, the pleasure so intense it hurts.”
Laura swallows audibly at these particulars, even if he is growling them at her.
“But I’m not good at a whole lot else. I saw your file and saw someone who has the exact opposite problem of mine, and I thought I could help, but, considering how goddamn rude you are, I don’t think-!”
“No! Wait, wait!” she cries, reaching for him as he turns as if to leave. She grabs one of his elbows and he freezes, looking at her, “I’m-? I’m sorry. I-I didn’t-?”
Laura releases him, “I’m-? I’m nervous. And I’m awkward. And this-? This just isn’t me. It just isn’t.”
Travis slowly absorbs that and then nods, smirking again, “I know. Like I said. Read the file.”
She smirks back, “Yeah. Guess I came across a little cocky, huh?”
“A LOT cocky,” he laughs, “You basically said your god’s gift to everything BUT sex.”
“Hey! No! I-I didn’t-?!” but she’s giggling as she says it because, yeah, that is kind of what she remembers saying. Travis goes from stern to soft and it’s so wonderful to see that she feels herself uncoil, “Look, I…I was happy when I saw you. I…was hoping for someone who would make me feel comfortable. Who…who wouldn’t overwhelm me.”
“Again, I can.” He assures her and she inhales through her nose, “Yes, okay, I’m sure, but…I just like that it’s not, y’know, immediate.”
“So, I’m not bowling you over with my good looks?” he teases, and she feels herself blush, “Ah, no – actually I-? I think you’re really cute.”
“Stop it.”
“No, really!”
“You don’t have to lie to me to-!”
“Travis,” she walks over to him and takes his hands in hers, “You’re cute.”
He looks down at her and smiles, “You too.”
She makes a questioning sound and he pushes the tip of her nose with one finger, “As a button.”
Laura lets out a totally new type of groan, this one of annoyance and he lets out another genuine laugh, before releasing her hands, “Seems like we’ll both have to overcome that tonight. We don’t want ‘cute’, do we? Think ‘sexy’ is what you go for when it comes to sex.”
“You’re the expert.” She says with a wave of her hands and he grins, “That I am. Now, come on, how’s about we talk for a spell.”