Chapter 9 #4
‘OK so—’ he began, his smile breaking into a smug smirk.
‘I think the oldest woman I’ve been with was around sixty-three or so.
Maybe sixty-four? Am I looking for a girlfriend?
As of now, I don’t think there would be anyone who would feel comfortable with my current lifestyle, so as much as I sometimes crave intimacy, connection and companionship, I don’t think it’s something that may be feasible right now.
Slept with anyone famous? Maybe, but that was a long time ago.
When it comes to boundaries and etiquette in these kinds of circumstances, I’m pretty flexible for the most part; I guess I don’t reveal too much about my personal life, no wandering hands unless it’s consensual on both sides, and uh, try not to fall in love with me, haha. ’
I baulked at him.
‘… And as for your final question, I work at a building design firm right now.’
I mulled over his answers as he took a bite of his pastry.
Sixty-four? He’d also slept with a famous person?
Also, fair do’s on the personal stuff; I supposed this line of work was the kind of thing people wanted to keep separate from their personal lives.
I had follow-up questions; I wanted to know the gist, but didn’t want to scare him off.
‘I feel you on your second answer. I mean, given the way you look and the amount of women you must meet on a weekly basis, whoever you end up with would probably need to have nerves of steel and the confidence of Beyoncé.’
Jericho laughed at this, his eyes twinkling in the diffused afternoon sunlight. I simply couldn’t get over how pretty and young he looked. I stared at him – transfixed.
‘I mean, it would probably be like that at first, but it would depend on how much money I’ve been able to store by the time that special lady comes into my life,’ he replied.
‘If I’ve been able to pack away a significant amount, then maybe I won’t need to continue with these shenanigans any more. But we’ll see!’
I imagined myself as being the woman who had to share him with a harem of different women each week – it couldn’t be me; I was way too possessive.
‘That’s fair enough,’ I replied, finishing the dregs of my coffee. ‘How much are you looking to save overall? AND ALSO, what was sleeping with a sixty-four-year-old like? Don’t try and gloss over that part – you thought I forgot. AND ALSO … who’s the famous person you slept with?’
‘Oh, Cassie.’ Jericho’s voice had an authority to it that drove me crazy. He knew exactly what he was doing. ‘You’re annoying, you know; nothing super personal, remember! I low-key like your confidence, though.’
‘Why, thank you. I’m a curious little pixie, like you said – now make with the answers, Jerry.’
At my impromptu nickname, he cocked his brow.
‘Erm, WELL, I’d like to be able to buy a house soon – a really nice house, like …
a “four-bedroom townhouse in Zone 2 London” nice – so let’s just say that I’ve been making some really good progress in that department.
I’d probably say that I’d only need to keep doing this for another couple of months or so before I have a healthy deposit.
As for sleeping with older women, it’s not really that much different from sleeping with women our age, I suppose – there’s a sexual confidence that comes with maturity that I definitely find to be a turn-on, but sexual confidence can be found in women of all ages really.
There’s nothing sexier than a woman who knows what she wants and is willing to teach along the way, too.
And as for the famous person, don’t you worry your pretty head about that. ’
‘Mmm, I see. Well, thanks for answering my questions; I’ll try not to nag you any more,’ I said, somewhat satisfied with his answers.
There was something really refreshing about the brutal honesty of it; I wanted to know more but equally, I didn’t want to fly too close to the sun.
His ‘don’t you worry your pretty head about that’ carried enough finality to warn me off.
‘You’re not nagging me, actually,’ he replied, finishing up the dregs of his drink. ‘You amuse me more than anything; I like your questions and I like your vibe so far. And your perfume is so … interesting. Strong and vibrant, like you.’
Oh, for God’s sake. I’d hoped the oud would tame the vinegary nightmare of my first fragrance, but thanks to scent blindness, I had zero idea what I actually smelled like. Had he been silently waving for fresh air this whole time?
‘Oh! Erm … yeah, I may have gone a little overboard this morning,’ I blurted, crossing and uncrossing my legs like a nervous metronome. ‘I love perfumes … sometimes I get a bit … enthusiastic. Hopefully it’s not too strong?’
Jericho gave me a slow, calculating wink. ‘No, no … not at all. I mean, it’s strong … in a heroic “call the fire brigade” kind of way. But I can handle it.’
‘Heroic?’ I squeaked. ‘Like Superman or more like Godzilla?’
‘Hmm,’ he said, leaning in slightly, clearly enjoying this. ‘A bit of both. Definitely unforgettable.’
I gulped. ‘Unforgettable … that’s comforting. Or terrifying. I can never tell with men.’
‘Oh, trust me,’ he said, grinning, ‘I’m more “memorably charming” than “tragedy in a bottle”. But don’t worry, if anyone else faints from the scent, I’ll heroically save them from their oud-infested prison.’
I blinked, half amused, half impressed. ‘Well, if I survive my own perfume apocalypse, maybe I’ll get a medal too.’
‘Deal,’ he said, winking again. ‘Medal ceremony immediately after dinner.’
So this is what falling in love felt like, huh?
In true hopeless-romantic fashion, I let out a soft sigh and smiled at absolutely nothing. He was perfect. We spent the next few moments asking each other random questions before setting off on our next venture. So far, I’d found out the following about him:
Jericho was left-handed
He lived in East London (ugh)
His family were St Lucian
He had a degree in Architecture (a smart one!)
He owned a car (an Audi, very fancy)
Due to his work schedule, most of his escorting activities were now either online or over the phone – he limited in-person meetups to weekend occasions once or twice a month.
We also discovered we had a lot in common – same taste in TV shows, same music, a shared obsession with Japanese food, and, best of all, a soft spot for video games.
‘Wait, you’re a Zelda fan too? No way,’ Jericho scoffed, half impressed, half amused. The more he spoke, the more I felt like I was peeking past that mysterious, charming exterior of his and catching glimpses of the big, excitable kid underneath – and honestly, it was ridiculously endearing.
‘Listen!’ I said, already matching his enthusiasm. ‘Don’t even get me started on Tears of the Kingdom. I’ve been stuck on that Phantom Ganon boss for six months. Six. Months. I’m at the point where I might actually throw my Nintendo Switch out the window.’
Jericho burst into this deep, hearty laugh that made my chest warm and my face break into an unintentional grin. For someone who seemed so composed, the laugh was disarmingly boyish, and I couldn’t help but adore it.
‘Phantom Ganon?’ he chuckled, shaking his head. ‘That’s nothing. Quickfire way to beat him: bait him into the corner, shield parry, then just hammer away. Honestly, if we hang out again, I’ll beat it for you in, like, ten minutes.’
He said it so casually, but the thought of him actually sitting beside me, controller in hand, solving the one problem I hadn’t been able to crack for half a year … well, that sounded suspiciously like bliss.
It was silly, but I could feel myself warming to him more and more.
Not just because he might be my ticket out of Phantom Ganon hell, but because it felt like we were tuned to the same frequency.
And somewhere between the laughter, the nerdy game talk, and the easy flow of conversation, I realised – I might just be developing a little crush.
As we made our way to leave the coffee shop, Jericho stretched his hands out towards mine.
‘Your hand, madam, if you’re OK with that?
’ he asked devilishly, to my surprise. I’d never been on a date where a guy had done this before – at least not in public.
It felt like he wanted the whole world to know I was his for the day – that he was proud to have me on his arm.
For a moment, the tears nearly made it to the surface, but reality hit me hard, yanking me back to the truth: I was paying for his time.
For all I knew, this was just part of the performance.
‘Why yes, kind sir; you have my consent,’ I replied.
My smile temporarily faltered, yet I took his hand all the same as we left the coffee shop, hand in hand.
We arrived at the Squid Game escape room ten minutes ahead of schedule, where we were paired up with another couple for the hour.
After filling out all the forms, we started playing the game, and I was impressed to find that Jericho was actually excellent when it came to the logical and physical puzzles, as we breezed through those rooms with ease.
I spent most of the hour just watching him with awe; he seemed to be in his element as he furiously solved Sudoku puzzles and tore the rooms apart looking for clues to get to the next rooms. He was like a big kid, and the more I watched, the sadder I became that this meeting might be our only interaction – unless I paid for us to have another date.
As we rushed into the next room, I decided in my head to think of a plan; Jericho had friends, right? I could just be another friend of his, and maybe then I wouldn’t have to keep paying to be in his company. I might do one more session with him and then float the idea and see what he thought.
As we arrived at the last escape room with at least fifteen minutes to spare, Jericho looked at me, gesturing me to come towards him.