I was to play the role of the doting other half in a sea of Mr. X’s work colleagues and their partners. I was also to be named Roxanne, rather than Roxy, as he felt it was more professional than Roxy by itself. Fair enough. Mr. X was in town for just what Leticia had said: business. The conversation throughout the entire evening was business related and it was a challenge to appear as though I understand exactly what everybody was talking about.
The opera was okay but had given me the beginnings of a migraine, following the remainder of the hangover I’d endured the entire day, which had ruined it slightly. There was an unexpected dinner appointment that we’d all been invited to attend by one of the senior managers of the company and conversation was a little lighter than previously but was still business orientated. The food was divine but the venue was a little too dark for my personal taste, though I kept this information to myself. Afterward, Mr. X and I went back to his hotel room in the heart of the city, not too far from my own home; at least I wouldn’t have to get a taxi back in the morning.
I’d gained the impression that Mr. X was a strong minded person and expected things to be done his way and to the highest of standards. This is also what he’d expected from me. Unlike a lot of clients, he wasn’t the nicest when it was just the two of us. He was extremely rude when he spoke to me, looking down on me, and was forceful in his demands.
His idea of passionate meaningless sex was almost abusive; Leticia hadn’t mentioned that he was the semi-violent type when he became aroused. He’d gripped hold of my wrists so tight that it literally felt like all the blood had been drained out of them and he’d slapped me hard across the face at least three times. He hurt me and I knew that I’d have to recover, from the shock at least, until I would be able to work to the standard that I’ve set myself over the years.
Although my experience with Mr. X hadn’t been perfect, the payment was more than enough to make up for it. Twenty per cent of it would go to the agency and the remaining eight per cent would go straight into my bank account sometime the next day. It was enough to pay my rent for the next year.
As I walked home the next morning, still in the previous nights’ clothes, I admired the architecture of the concrete city streets I walked down. Many buildings towered above me, dominating the skyline above and beyond. I’d always wanted to live in the city and, now that I did, was very happy to be away from my parents and the family home I’d grown up in, which resided just outside of the city border in the suburban district.
I had two apartments in the city: Sophia’s and Roxy’s. Sophia lived in the tiny flat above the chip shop – which I always referred to as home – whereas Roxy’s deluxe apartment in a stylish new apartment block (unbeknown to my friends and family, as they’d question why I still lived in the tiny flat) was solely used for clients who came round for their purchases from the agency. I was headed for Sophia’s apartment… my apartment, and looked completely out of place in my expensive attire in one of the cheaper and less glamorous parts of the city.
Like last night, I passed the night club Voyager and kept my head down again. Just as before, it was in darkness and not a sound could be heard from behind its walls. I continued on, not looking back at the building, and focused on my destination. I needed a well deserved soak in the bath and perhaps a mid morning nap to recover from the lack of sleep I’d received last night, that is if I didn’t expect a phone call from Leticia confirming an afternoon booking.
My life was busy and hectic, but I would have it no less. I just wish I had more me time, where I could just be Sophia and not Roxy. I wouldn’t want anything too long, a day perhaps. A day of just being Sophia would be absolutely lovely. If only that was possible.