Nathan
Dinner
It was a cool, rainy spring night; the exact type of night that one might expect during late March in our region. The air around the table where Dan and I sat smelled thick with cigars and whiskey, and the soft sound of conversation and glasses clinking filled the atmosphere.
But we weren’t alone.
Two escorts sat with us: Dan had a buxom blonde at his side, a much younger woman—younger than me, even—by the name of Amy. She was leaning against his shoulder, absentmindedly twirling her olives around in her cocktail.
And at my side sat an escort who I already knew quite well: Mira. The same tall, slender woman with long, dark hair who I had met once before.
“I must say, Nathan,” Dan said, one arm casually looped around Amy’s shoulders while the other hand he
