The Lost Angel by Paul Preston

Author:Paul Preston [Preston, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: erotica
Publisher: Pink Flamingo Media
Published: 2016-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

The Gentleman with Silver Hair

I’m dropped off in front of The Four Seasons in downtown Chicago. As I enter the hotel restaurant, a maître de points to the bar, directing me to the gentleman with silver hair. A man stands up from the bar stool and greets me.

“Dr. Vinson?”

“Grace, I’m glad you could make it. Come sit down. Would you like a drink?” he says politely, taking my hand.

“A Perrier please.”

Dr. Vinson orders the drink and I settle into a barstool next to him. I breathe in the musky masculine scent of his cologne. The gentleman is quite handsome for his age, slender and fit with a serious face and compassionate eyes. Even though he’s much older than me, I find myself attracted to him. The bartender pours me the drink and I take a sip.

“So, Mr. Jefferson called me to ask if we could reschedule our meeting, but this is the last day of my medical conference. I’ll be flying back to New York City early tomorrow morning.”

“That’s OK, Dr. Vinson. I’m happy to meet you.”

“Mr. Jefferson also told me about the procedure you endured yesterday. I feel terribly guilty about making you come out this evening, Grace.”

“Don’t feel guilty, Sir. I feel fine.”

“The tattoo happened just yesterday. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Are you in any pain?”

“Well, my skin hurts a little, but not too bad Dr. Vinson. Thanks for asking.”

“If you’d like, I could examine the tattoo later to look for signs of infection.”

“That would be nice, Sir. Thank you.”

I begin to unbutton my coat to show him my tattoo and Dr. Vinson stops me before my breasts threaten to slip out.

“Not here Grace,” he says.

“Shall we go to your room then?” I ask.

“You mean, now?”

“Yes.”

“I wanted to take you to dinner.”

“I’m not too hungry right now, Dr. Vinson. Perhaps we can order room service later.”

“I suppose we could, if you wish.”

I stand up but the Doctor doesn’t move from his seat. The poor man looks rather uncomfortable.

“What room are you in, Sir?” I ask.

“504.”

“Why don’t you go up first and I’ll follow you a few minutes later?”

He nods.

“Would you like to finish your drink first?” he asks.

“No thank you, Doctor.”

The Doctor asks the bartender to charge the drinks to his room and stands. He looks awkwardly at me and leaves the bar. Almost immediately after Dr. Vinson leaves a portly gentleman sits on the stool next to me.

“Hello there young lady. Is this seat taken?”

I shake my head no.

“I’m Dr. Wendell Richards, in town for the Neurology Conference. May I buy you a drink?” he asks.

“No thank you. I have another client waiting.”

The Doctor suddenly bristles and sits up straighter on his stool.

“A client? Excuse me, but are you a…”

I look the gentleman straight in the eyes.

“Yes. I’m a prostitute, Sir.”

The gentleman looks down at his cocktail napkin. I wish I had time to speak with him further. I wish I could tell him how I always fantasized about being a prostitute during the unending sermons of Pastor Orman.

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