ACT 3

TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE

It was not until 4 pm on Thursday that Nathan finally finished. He slammed down the lid of his laptop and let out a sigh of relief. He had arrived at his office at 8 am on the Monday, having returned from the Sydney conference on Saturday morning. Waiting for him was an e-mail from one of his biggest clients asking him to contact him urgently. The client, the CEO of a major automotive parts company, was livid. He had received an assessment from the Taxation Department for half a million dollars more than Nathan had calculated he owed. He demanded to know how Nathan could have got it so wrong and told Nathan in no uncertain terms to fix it.

Nathan was shocked. He had personally done all the calculations, had checked them several times and was certain that his estimate was correct. It took about four days of trawling through thousands of figures to work out what the problem was and by Thursday at 4 pm he had found it. The ATO was wrong. Nathan’s original sum was correct. He had sent the client an e-mail to that effect and told him not to worry. He would fix it and then slammed the laptop shut.

What a week. He was exhausted. He kept a bottle of Balvenie fifteen year old single malt in the deep bottom drawer of his antique oak desk. He took the bottle out and a crystal glass and poured himself a triple. He needed it. He leaned back in his office chair, put his feet on the leather top of the desk and slowly sipped his whisky. He decided he would take the next day off. He had just spent over fifty hours sorting out the mess and deserved a day off. As he drank the whisky he thought of Cassie. The memory of their evening together was never far away from his consciousness although he had been too busy with work to stop and give it much thought.

After their evening together, Nathan did not see Cassie again. He looked for her at breakfast the next morning but she was not there. Having not really heard any of the keynote address that morning, he was determined to focus all his attention on the conference for the next two and a half days and attended every session.

He began to relax as the scotch found its way to his brain. Cassie’s black card had been on his desk all week. He had stared at the ‘C’ and at the mobile number countless times and once or twice was tempted to pick up the phone and call her. He now looked at the card again. He had memorised the telephone number having seen it so often. Without giving it much thought, he picked up his mobile and dialled.

‘Hello, this is Cassie. Please leave your name and number,’ is what he heard.

Nathan disconnected the call and put the phone down. He considered pouring himself another scotch when his mobile rang.

‘Why didn’t you leave a message? And why has it taken you a week to call me you bastard?’

It was Cassie. He did not respond. That woman had a way of rendering him speechless, he thought.

‘Hi Cassie. Sorry. I meant to call earlier but I came back to a major crisis at work which I’ve only just cleaned up now.’

‘Okay, what do you want?’

Her voice did not sound friendly at all.

‘I wondered if I could see you,’ he offered tentatively.

‘Is it business or personal?’

He was taken aback. He did not reply. She is doing it again. Eventually he said it was personal. He realised he must have sounded a little pathetic.

‘Too cheap to pay for it?’ Then a long silence which was broken by Cassie’s throaty laugh. ‘Just joking Nathan. I’m glad you called. I was beginning to think you weren’t going to. You did say personal, didn’t you.’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay. By my reckoning, you owe me a dinner. Saturday night. The Rooftop, 8 pm. I’ll meet you there.’

The Rooftop was Melbourne’s hottest new restaurant, situated on the seventy seventh floor of a newly completed high-rise in the city. It had opened to rave reviews and as a result it took three months to get a table on a Saturday night.

Nathan’s initial reaction to what appeared to be Cassie’s hostility gave way to a feeling of elation. She was waiting for him to call and wanted to go to dinner with him. But The Rooftop? Cassie would have known it was impossible to get a booking with just two days’ notice. Was she setting him up to fail, he wondered. Was this some kind of a test? A booking for Saturday night two days ahead was impossible. But not for Nathan. He smiled to himself. I’ll show her. Chris Walton, the owner of The Rooftop, happened to be Nathan’s client. And he owed him. Three months earlier Nathan had managed to fend off an audit from the Tax Department that would have proved to be very costly to Chris, not to mention embarrassing. Nathan found Chris’ number in his contact list and after five minutes had secured not only a booking for Saturday night but a window table.

Cassie had said she would meet him there at eight and Nathan considered just turning up. But he thought better of it. He sent her an SMS – ‘Confirmed, see you at 8’, was all it said.

He felt pleased with himself and at the same time excited at the prospect of seeing Cassie again. He knew he was attracted to her. But who wouldn’t be. He tried to ignore what she did for a living but it wasn’t that easy. He pushed the thought out of his mind, decided not to have another whisky, locked his office and headed home. He would definitely take Friday off. He needed a haircut. New clothes might be in order. Sylvia used to buy his clothes most of the time. She had good taste but he was pretty sure that everything in his wardrobe was at least two years old. As he drove home he found himself singing along to the music on the radio. He was happy, a feeling he had not known for over three months.

Nathan made sure he was ten minutes early. He had been seated and was busy admiring the Melbourne skyline when Cassie was shown to his table. He stood up and shook her hand. She leant forwards and kissed him. Just a peck, but on the lips. She was just as beautiful as he remembered her. She was wearing a sleeveless dress, blue, covered in lace and sequins. A white shawl was draped over her shoulders. She looked stunning. He was pleased that he had decided to buy new clothes and he could see Cassie looking him and down approvingly.

‘I could use a drink,’ Cassie said. ‘It’s been a hectic day. Didn’t think I’d get here on time.’

The waiter approached to take their drink orders. Nathan, who had already perused the drink menu, decided to take charge. ‘Two Glenfiddichs, the eighteen year old please’. Cassie smiled.

‘I must say Nathan, I’m most impressed. How did you get a booking here with two days’ notice?’

Nathan beamed. ‘That’s my little secret Cassie, there is more to me than meets the eye.’

‘I quite like what meets the eye,’ Cassie replied, her voice low.

‘This is a bit different to our first meeting,’ Nathan said. He then added, ‘You look beautiful Cassie. I hope I’m not out of line saying that.’

‘Thank you Nathan. You are not out of line at all. And yes, this is quite different to our first meeting. I haven’t been here before, couldn’t get a booking. I hear the food is sensational.’

Their drinks arrived. They toasted to a wonderful evening. The food was a sensation but Nathan barely noticed it. He was mesmerised by Cassie. He found it so easy to talk to her. He told her all about his work. She appeared to be interested but he couldn’t be sure. Cassie told him about her travels. Nathan and Sylvia had travelled extensively over the years but Cassie’s travels made him feel like a novice. She spoke excitedly about all the places she had been to and all the places she had yet to visit. The only thing she was sorry about, she said, was that she had no one to share those beautiful experiences with. Was she hinting? Nathan wondered.

They got into a discussion about literature and it turned out that they both liked many of the same authors. Cassie agreed with Nathan that Fawlty Towers was the best comedy ever shown on TV. They both agreed that Seinfeld came a close second. Nathan could not help but wonder whether she was for real. After all, it was her job to please men. Did they really have so much in common or was Cassie just telling him what she knew he wanted to hear. He decided to put that thought out of his mind.

He even mentioned that he always wanted to go to the opera but Sylvia had no interest at all. He had a few CDs which he could only play in his car when he was alone. Cassie surprised him by telling him that she had been to the opera, at no lesser venue than La Scala in Milan, twice.

They were so engrossed in conversation that neither realised they were the only ones left in the restaurant. Nathan glanced at his watch. It was 11.30. He could see the waiter hovering, probably waiting for them to leave. He asked for the bill, which he paid, and said ‘I think it’s time to go Cassie. Can I give you a lift home?’

‘No thanks Nathan, I’ll take a taxi.’

‘Why, I’ve got my car in the car park downstairs. I’m happy to take you. Just a lift home, nothing more.’

‘I’m exhausted Nathan,’ she said. ‘I’ve got an early flight tomorrow morning. Thank you for the offer. Trouble is, if I let you take me home it won’t be just a lift home. You know that and I know that. I need a good night’s sleep. Some other time, I promise.’

The restaurant called for a taxi for her and Nathan accompanied her down the lift. They kissed goodbye and she was off.

Nathan eventually found his car in the car park and drove home. He put on one of his opera CDs but did not sing along. He let the music wash over him. A perfect ending to a perfect evening.

In the next four weeks they spoke to each other on the telephone every second day. They went out once or twice a week, to dinner, movies and to a production of ‘Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolf?’ at the Melbourne Theatre Company. On each occasion, Cassie let Nathan drive her home but did not invite him in. He wasn’t sure what to make of that especially after their first encounter in Sydney. Nathan assumed that Cassie was still working during those weeks but the subject never came up. He assumed that was the reason for the absence of intimacy.

As much as he tried not to think about it, it was impossible for him not to. Cassie was a prostitute. She preferred the term ‘escort’, not that it changed anything. Nathan was well aware that he was falling in love with her but where was the future in that. Could he really see his life with a woman whose job was to sell sex on a regular basis…He had no idea how often.

And what about her motivation, he wondered. There was a twenty two year age difference. This did not seem to bother Cassie in the least and from Nathan’s point of view he was performing like a man much younger. Was it conceivable that Cassie was falling for him too? On the surface it looked that way to Nathan. But it seemed too good to be true and from Nathan’s experience, if something seemed too good to be true, then it usually was. Early on, he wondered if she was after his money but now that he knew more about her, he realised this could not have been the case. If anything, it would be the other way around.

He was enjoying every moment he spent with her and decided to go with the flow. The future would take care of itself.

Nathan had told no one about Cassie. There was no one to tell really. His partners at work would occasionally ask him if he was dating yet to which he would reply ‘Not really’. Karen, his daughter, rang him weekly and in each phone call kept reassuring Nathan that he should not give up, ‘Mum will come back’. She never asked if he was dating. His son Matthew did and kept telling Nathan that he had ‘get back out there.’ There were the occasional phone calls from the mutual friends that he and Sylvia had when they were together. None from the women who naturally sided with Sylvia. There were a few from the husbands who usually telephoned without their wives’ knowledge. None asked him if he was seeing any one. So, keeping Cassie a secret was not at all difficult.

It was after their next date, in the fifth week of their courtship, that things changed. They had dinner in a small French bistro not far from Nathan’s apartment. The place was very casual and the food authentic. They shared a bottle of Boujelais and were both a little merry from the wine. Nathan realised that he should have called a taxi but decided to drive and pulled up outside Cassie’s apartment block ready for a quick peck and goodbye. Instead Cassie said, ‘Don’t stop here, take the next right, which leads to the car park.’

Nathan did what he was told, parked his car in the visitor’s spot and followed Cassie to the lift lobby. The elevator ride was very brief considering that they were ascending sixty floors. Cassie’s apartment occupied half the floor in the Eureka Tower, Melbourne’s, and some said, The Southern Hemisphere’s tallest residential tower. She unlocked the front door and what faced Nathan was an enormous living room, all white, floors, walls and ceiling. He did not really see the apartment at first as his eyes were drawn to the floor to ceiling windows and the panoramic view of Melbourne at night that lay beyond them. He could see the light towers of the MCG and could even seem some of the haloed turf of one of the greatest sporting arenas in the world.

Once he was able to take his eyes away from the view, Nathan noticed the pure white walls which were almost totally covered in art work. He recognised some of the work from Australia’s leading modern painters. Cassie certainly lived in style.

‘A drink?’ Cassie asked.

‘Only if you’re having one.’

Cassie pointed to a built-in bar to the right. There were four glass shelves laden with several dozen bottles of various alcoholic beverages.

‘A single malt for me,’ Cassie said. ‘I’ll leave the choice to you.’

Nathan’s eyes ran over the shelves, stopping at a bottle of eighteen year old Highland Park, judged by some to be the best single malt in the world. He poured them each a glass. Not too much, he was still feeling the effects of the wine and he knew that he would eventually have to drive home although he secretly hoped that it may not be the case.

They sat opposite each other on white leather couches, toasted and drank their whisky. Without another word, Cassie stood up, took Nathan’s hand and led him to a bedroom. It was almost as large as the lounge room. It was also all white and the walls also covered with paintings. In the centre of the room was a king-sized bed covered with white linen with a white studded leather bedhead at one end. That is where Cassie led him. They undressed silently and slipped into the bed under the doona.

Nathan kissed her, a long passionate kiss and he could hear Cassie moan softly as she thrust herself against him. He was thankful that for the second time his penis had not let him down. Cassie pointed to the bedside table. The black leather box was sitting there, full. The sight of the condoms made Nathan wonder whether this was where Cassie brought her clients. He hoped not but was beyond caring at that stage.

A moment later Cassie was on top of him, straddling him as she had done the first time. Nathan decided he would take charge and reversed their position. Cassie offered no resistance. He kissed her and she again responded by thrusting herself up against him. Their lovemaking seemed to proceed in slow motion and to Nathan it felt as if it could go on forever.

His next memory was waking with the sun streaming in through the large window. Cassie had opened the blinds and he was again taken aback by the view of Melbourne, now from a different direction and in broad daylight.

The clock on the bedside table showed 7.30. It took Nathan a moment to remember that it was Thursday and he was usually at his desk by 8 am. Not that morning, he thought. He got out of bed, he was naked. He headed to what he correctly assumed to be the en-suite where he emptied his bladder, washed his hands and face and returned to the bedroom. After a few minutes searching, he located his boxers at the foot of the bed tucked under the doona. He put them on and went in search of Cassie. He found her by the sound of cutlery and crockery and the aroma of coffee. She was standing at the kitchen sink wearing the same white robe she had on at their first meeting. As before, she wore nothing else and had not bothered doing up the gown, displaying her beautiful breasts and black pubic hair, the cricket pitch, newly mown.

‘I was about to wake you. Aren’t you working today?’

‘I am, but I can go in late. I am the boss you know.’

‘Breakfast?’ Cassie asked.

‘No, just coffee, black no sugar.’

Cassie pointed to a Nespresso machine where Nathan headed and made himself a coffee, a double. Cassie had already had a coffee and was tucking into what looked like a bowl of Bircher muesli.

‘Sure you don’t want some, it’s delicious,’

‘Thanks, but no. I can’t eat first thing. Coffee will do for now.’

Nathan finished his coffee just as Cassie was putting the last spoonful of muesli into her mouth.

‘Tell me Cassie. Why did you ask me up last night?’

‘Isn’t it obvious,’ she replied. ‘You seemed to be having a pretty good time back there,’ she added pointing to the bedroom.

‘I know what you asked me up for, but why? Why now, it’s been a month?’

Cassie did not reply. She put down her spoon, sat back in the kitchen chair. Nathan could see by her face that she was trying to formulate a response. Finally she began.

‘You know what I do for a living Nathan. I have sex with men, for money. All my relationships with men are purely sexual. Not that I haven’t had offers. You have no idea how many of my clients have offered to leave their wives and families for me. Some were probably genuine but most were just talking with their dicks.’

Cassie paused, took a sip from the glass of orange juice in front of her and continued.

‘Then I met you, strange as that meeting was. I liked you Nathan, don’t ask me to explain it. I can’t. You are old enough to be my father. I felt we had a connection and I guess I wanted to find out what it would be like to have a relationship with a man that did not involve sex. Haven’t you enjoyed the last 4 four weeks, Nathan? I know I have.’

And before Nathan could reply, Cassie continued.

‘So that’s it. Nothing more complicated than that. No hidden motives, I promise. I’m sure you’re wondering yourself what I’m after. What does a prostitute want with a man over twenty years her senior? I don’t blame you if you do, I would if I were you. But who understands the mysteries of the human heart.’

Nathan said nothing. He stood up and headed back to the bedroom. A minute later Cassie could hear him on his mobile phone.

‘Hi, it’s me. Do I have any appointments this morning?’ ‘That’s good, look, something has come up. I won’t be in until lunchtime.’ ‘No, nothing’s wrong. See you about 1.’

Nathan came back to the kitchen, went over to Cassie, kissed her on the lips and led her back into the bedroom. He lay on the bed and motioned her to join him which she did. Nathan put his left arm out and Cassie lifted her head slightly and then rested her head on his arm. They lay there quietly for a moment or two and then Nathan said,

‘Cassandra Roberts, I think I’m falling in love with you. I really do, is that crazy or what?’

‘Are you sure you’re not talking with your dick Nathan?’ Cassie said glancing down at his boxers where a bulge was slowly forming. Nathan did not reply. He turned towards Cassie and kissed her. She responded and then gently slid her hand under his boxer shorts.

Less than a minute later Cassie was wiping her hand with tissues that she had taken from the box on the bedside table and Nathan, red faced, was apologising profusely.

‘I’m so sorry, I don’t know how that happened.’

‘I know how it happened,’ she replied smiling, as she proceeded to use the tissues on Nathan. His face was getting redder and redder.

When everything was dry again Cassie continued.

‘You think you’re falling in love with me Nathan. You think you are or you actually are, there’s a difference you know. I do appreciate you saying it though. I’ve heard it said before but from you it means a lot. But let’s look at the real world Nathan. The world outside this bed.’

Nathan waited. This didn’t sound good. He was not sure he wanted to look at the real world.

‘I’m 35,’ Cassie continued, ‘you’re fifty seven. You’re a respectable accountant. I’m an escort. Is there a future here? I very much doubt it. I like you Nathan. Do I love you, do I think I’m falling in love with you? To be honest, I don’t know. I have spent a dozen years pretending to make men feel loved. I’m not sure I would recognise the real thing anymore. I do enjoy being with you, I love our time together. Can’t that be enough for now?’

Nathan said nothing. He realised that she was right. Could they have a future together, their two different worlds colliding.

‘I agree,’ he finally said, ‘It will be enough, for now. Okay girlfriend, now I’m hungry. What have you got to eat in this place? Not just muesli I hope.’

Cassie smiled, relieved.

‘If you’re after bacon and eggs, you’ve come to the wrong kitchen boyfriend. Come on, time for a shower, we’ll go out. I’ll take you out for breakfast, my treat.’

Nathan looked down at his soaked boxers but before he could say anything, Cassie said ‘Over there, the second cupboard from the left. You’ll find what you’re looking for. New, still in the packet.’

Nathan gave her a look.

‘It’s not what you think Nathan. I don’t bring my clients here, ever. I have an apartment in St Kilda Rd for that if you must know. I just keep spare supplies here, that’s all.’

Nathan now smiled, relieved. They both headed to the shower. Like everything else in the apartment, it was huge. There were two shower heads, one at each end and they showered together, careful not to touch each other. Nathan could not risk another embarrassment.

Fifteen minutes later they were dressed. It was a beautiful sunny morning and they walked to Southbank where Cassie directed Nathan to an open air café. He had bacon and eggs and toast and another coffee. He was famished. Cassie had an orange juice.

Nathan felt happy, carefree. It was a beautiful morning and he was having breakfast with a gorgeous woman who, despite what she may have said, he was truly falling in love with.