The Escort

Chapter Seven

By Kurtofsky4eva

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Summary: Kurt Hummel is the highest-paid escort at Arena, New York's elite agency that provides the very best. He is sought-after by both men and women and no one knows what his real preference is. Story includes cross-dressing, role-play and light BDSM.

Disclaimer: I have no claim on any of the recognizable characters. The OCs belong to me, and they better remember that.

...

Life after Diane's party in France continued much the same way it usually did for Kurt. The 'games' had been extremely enjoyable and Kurt was sure he'd made a lifelong friend in Henri. On the last day of the festivities, Henri had approached him after breakfast, suggesting they take a walk in the gardens just off of the breakfast room.

Kurt had turned his face up to the clear light, taking in a deep breath of the fragrant air and then turned to look at his older companion. Henri, despite their vigorous activities, seemed much more rested and energized than when he'd arrived. Kurt smiled and waited for him to speak.

Henri, indicating a wrought-iron bench near some of the formal flower beds, waited for Kurt to seat himself before he sat as well. He knew Kurt wasn't female but he couldn't help his ingrained manners from treating him with the kind of courtesy usually reserved for women.

They looked out at the beds for a minute before Henri cleared his throat and reached for Kurt's hand. Kurt turned kind eyes upon his companion and his lips curved in his signature smile.

"You know," Henri began after a second or two of gazing at Kurt's face. "You have to be one of the most beautiful men I've met."

Kurt felt a faint jolt of both surprise and pleasure at that pronouncement. He inclined his head slightly in thanks but didn't speak, waiting for Henri to continue. The color was a little higher in the other man's cheeks but Kurt ignored it politely.

Henri continued: "I want you to consider something." He raised a hand as Kurt made to interrupt. "No, please, wait… I have a proposition for you," and he chuckled as one of Kurt's eyebrows went up his forehead. "No, not that kind; it's just that, if you ever decide you're tired of this… business… I want you to consider a film career."

Now Kurt did make a sound; to his embarrassment he couldn't decide if it came out as a chuckle or gurgle. He was just plainly surprised by Henri's words. He tilted his head and stared at the other man before smiling widely.

"That… that is not what I thought you were going to suggest, honestly," and they both chuckled as Henri eyed him knowingly. He continued, looking away briefly at the gorgeous floral display and then back at Henri. "You know I wanted a career on Broadway, yes?" He hummed when Henri nodded. "I must confess that I didn't think about switching to films. I mean, how many people like me do you see on the screen?"

Henri nodded; Kurt's looks were not the usual cookie-cutter sort that American producers seemed to look for. Nor did he look like an action star like his colleague Ken. Henri had noted that his hostess seemed to have monopolized that young man but he, himself, preferred to glut himself on Kurt's androgynous beauty.

He had had such intense experiences with Kurt that he'd sometimes feared for his heart's stamina. Kurt made him feel as if he could get lost in the heat of his luscious, clenching body and when he lay panting on the long, lightly muscled form he'd enjoyed caressing what felt like yards of hot, ivory, silken skin. Kurt was made to be a courtesan and had he been female and lived centuries before, he would have been the toast of Versailles.

Now Henri caressed the hand he held even as he shook his head at Kurt's deploring his looks vis-à-vis what American producers wanted. He smiled at Kurt now, his eyes heating slightly as he examined the stunning blue eyes and then the soft, pink lips.

"Americans are rather simple-minded in their ideas of beauty, my dear. Europeans are not."

He watched as Kurt's cheeks pinked and he chuckled. "Had you been born centuries ago, you would have been quite successful at court."

Kurt shook his head, pleased with the assessment but still slightly disbelieving. "I'm male, Henri, don't forget that."

Henri looked at him with a slightly darkened gaze. "Oh, don't pigeon-hole the French, dear boy. We Europeans were not as puritanical about our pleasures as you Americans, even back then."

Kurt's eyes widened in understanding and then he began to chuckle with Henri. After they'd calmed down a bit, his eyes took on a faintly reminiscent look. "I remember reading very briefly about ancient Greece and Rome. People like me weren't automatically hated or shunned then, if I recall."

Henri nodded, his eyes lighting with enthusiasm. "Oh, no, the fluidity of sexuality was rather more accepted as natural and normal in those days, indeed, for many centuries. It was later that a stigma became attached to homosexuality, much to our detriment, I think."

They sat enjoying each other's company for a while and the fresh air before rising to go back inside. There was a sense of subdued bustle as servants and the guests' entourages got into the business of packing up as most were leaving that day. Kurt and his colleagues would be leaving later, also, and Kurt had a gift to give to his hostess.

Excusing himself from Henri and promising he would see him before he departed, Kurt skipped up the wide marble staircase to his wing, humming happily as he made his way along the gallery to his suite.

The gift he had found for Diane was very delicate and very special and he couldn't wait to see her face when he gave it to her. He knew she would love the beautiful Japanese Kannon figurine that he'd found. It was made of ivory and depicted the god/goddess of watchful listening and is often translated as "one who sees and/or hears all."

The depiction of a compassionate, beautiful woman was how the Japanese artist interpreted the goddess whose task it was to witness and listen to the prayers and cries of those in difficulty in the earthly realm, and to help them achieve salvation. Another Japanese name for Kannon is Kanzeon, the one who constantly surveys the world, listening for the sounds of suffering. It was later shortened to Kannon and as Kurt caressed the delicately carved figurine, he could imagine the comfort people found, even from just looking at it. He knew Diane would love it for her collection and he was immensely happy that he had found it in time for the trip to France.

Still, as he took the figurine from its padded case in which he had stowed it, his mind went back to the conversation with Henri.

Hmmm, a film career, he thought as he caressed the little object. I wonder if that could work, he mused, smiling to himself. He would definitely think on it but, for the time being, he was quite happy with his job.

The sound of vehicles arriving and departing, coupled with the buzz of many voices talking over each other came wafting up to his room and he moved over to the windows to stare down into the courtyard. The chateau really was rather beautiful and he indulged himself, probably influenced by Henri's words, in imagining himself, back in the days of the belle époque, a privileged son of the house.

After a while he shook himself from his fanciful musings, chiding himself for being such a girl and went to have a long soak. The next few hours would be rather hectic; intercontinental travel would need a few more decades before it became a swift, effortless jaunt across the pond.

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oOo

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On his return to New York, substantially more solvent than before he'd left, Kurt had met with his manager. Several of his clients had been asking after him and the man grinned as he eyed Kurt lounging across from him on his huge white leather sofa.

"You know, I'm going to have to make you partner one of these days," he said, watching Kurt closely to see his reaction. He wasn't disappointed as Kurt's head whipped around, his unusual eyes widening as he stared back.

"Me, why? I quite enjoy what I'm doing." Kurt wondered where this idea had come from.

His manager chuckled and raised a large, placating hand. He leaned back in his throne-like leather chair as he said, "You are almost as wealthy as I am, Kurt, a well-kept secret, I know. You could invest in the company and we could expand to other cities, if you want."

Kurt relaxed and turned to look back out at the famous skyline. His manager had an enviable view, one he always teased him about but now his mind wasn't on the city he'd come to love. He had never thought of himself as a businessman or investor although his portfolio was doing quite well. He had other people to handle that. Still, it was an intriguing idea; full partnership in a firm he loved, that wasn't too bad at all.

Now he looked back at his friend, colleague… boss? A soft smile curved his lips and then he nodded. "Okay," he breathed, "why not? It's not as if I'm going anywhere."

His manager clapped his hands together softly as if to get himself in a more businesslike mood and he straightened up. "Okay, I know you have a business manager and a lawyer; we could set up a meet and go over everything, get it all straight."

Kurt chuckled at his eager – partner? – and nodded. "Gosh, couldn't you give me some time to get my head around the idea?" He was only teasing; he knew the other man wouldn't have suggested it if he hadn't looked at it from every possible angle. It wasn't often one came across a scrupulous businessman but his future partner was just that. It was one of the reasons Kurt so enjoyed his life; he was doing something he loved and he genuinely liked the people he associated with.

Life would be just perfect if… he broke off that line of thought, unaware that his eyes had darkened and the humor had left his face.

His manager watched him surreptitiously although he was ostensibly signing a couple of documents before him. Kurt was fascinating to him, even though he was completely hetero. The younger man before him had a face that was unusually open, except for when he was doing that Sphinx-like thing that so intrigued his clients. To him, though, Kurt was like an open book and he knew without asking that what troubled Kurt was a matter of the heart.

"You okay," he asked quietly, not wanting to startle Kurt. He sighed when Kurt's face immediately shuttered and a bright smile was hauled into place.

Kurt looked at his manager serenely. "Hey, of course, I'm okay. I've just become partners with one of the best people around. Why wouldn't I be?"

His manager chuckled resignedly. He knew Kurt was blowing smoke up his ass to distract him and he would allow it… for now. One day, though, he would get the story behind that faraway look in his friend's eyes. One day he would find out who put that look there.

.

oOo

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"Noah Puckerman, thank you for joining us today!"

The thunderous applause from the studio audience had Noah grinning around after shaking the talk show host's hand. He waved to the cheering crowd as he remained standing for a bit and then he took his seat, smiling at the quieting audience and then turning to address the host.

"Thank you for having me. Wow, this is huge for me," he said in a charmingly boyish way and laughed when the audience roared and clapped again. They had to wait for them to settle down before the host could launch into his set questions.

Noah absolutely hated the whole publicity thing but his PR people insisted he do it whenever a new movie from one of his books came out. Thankfully book-signings were a whole lot less hectic and, consequently, more enjoyable for him. Now he took a sip of his water as he waited for his host's insincere TV smile to dim as he prepared to ask his questions.

"So, the fifth book and a fifth movie. Wow, how does it feel by now?" The man's icy blue eyes had a slight sheen of avidity as he stared at Noah. He had probably spoken to hundreds of guests like Noah but he for sure had never had one quite like him.

Noah's books were as violent as they were sexy but he was unique in that his protagonist was female. Rumor had it that quite a number of A-List actresses had fought over being able to be the one to portray the character on the big screen. Now this talk show host obviously wanted to grill Noah on that but he was restricted to asking only the approved questions.

Noah grinned at him as he took a deep breath and looked out at the audience. "It feels great every time one of my books makes it into print, John… and when it becomes a movie, damn, that's exciting."

Noah knew his friends would recognize the insincerity of his smile but people saw what they wanted to see. The fans – and there were certainly many of them in the audience tonight – were just glad to be in the same room with a famous author. He took another sip of his water and waved to a section of the audience, milking it for all it was worth.

Miles away, on the other coast, in fact, Kurt sat curled up on his huge couch, sipping a glass of wine as he watched Noah on the large flatscreen. Kurt had to admit he looked damn good and his traitorous heart did that stupid stutter thing as he watched the tanned face smiling at the audience.

Kurt made a slight scoffing sound at Noah's answer to the first question. He mightn't have been around the other man much since high school but he could still recognize when Noah didn't like someone. He watched him smirk at the audience before turning back to the host.

Noah looked really good, Kurt admitted. The camera definitely loved him and even when the host was talking, the cameraman still didn't pan toward him as he should; he stayed fixed on Noah, getting every little flicker of his dark eyes and twitch of his full lips. Every now and then, when the raucous audience reacted to something he said, the camera would switch angles and you'd get a shot of the crowd but, for the most part, it was Noah, center screen, all the time.

Back in the studio, Noah couldn't wait for the damn interview to end. All he really wanted was to head back to his hotel room, get his stuff and head home. The special manuscript he was working on – one he hadn't even told his agent about – seemed to call to him, like a lover he'd left behind. He wanted to get home and work on it, even though he suspected he would never publish it.

Now he smiled and turned towards the audience as the host called on the one individual who had won the right to ask his guest a question. Noah waited for the cameraman and sound guy to scurry over to the woman and waited, relaxed, for the no doubt inane question to be thrown at him.

A young woman stood, blushing as she grasped the microphone that the sound guy had handed to her and cleared her throat. The audience quieted as they watched her enviously and Noah nodded kindly at her to begin.

"Uhm, Noah, hi, I'm Karen."

"Hey, Karen, how are you?" Noah sipped his water after smiling at her. He just wanted this night to end, seriously, but no one could tell what he was thinking. The look on his face was of pure interest in what 'Karen' was about to ask him.

"So, I was wondering… since your latest novel – and I can't wait to see the movie! – is about events from your heroine's past, my question is: is there anything that you've ever regretted, that you would do over if you could?"

There was applause after Karen's question and Noah gulped quickly at his water as he gathered himself. He knew he shouldn't have agreed to this part of his appearance but it was a signature of this particular show and he couldn't do anything about it. Now he wished he could just yank off his mike and walk off the set.

Unbidden, the sight of Kurt walking away from him into his flat came to him. The hurt he'd felt at Kurt's words washed over him again and he struggled for a moment to keep his face impassive. Yes, there were things he would definitely do over if he could.

"Noah, ah, Karen, is it? Karen just asked…" the sound of the host's voice broke into his thoughts and he smiled automatically as he looked out at the audience. He interrupted his host and nodded at Karen.

"Wow, Karen, that's a great question." He thanked every god he could think of for his latent acting ability as he deliberately relaxed his face and smiled 'sincerely' at the girl still standing with the mike clutched in front of her.

"Uhm, yes, like anyone else, there are things I got up to, especially as a teen." The audience chuckled. "So, uh, yes, I can't tell you exactly what because that would be just too embarrassing!" He grinned as the audience laughed out loud at that.

The host, John, narrowed his eyes as he watched Noah Puckerman schmooze the audience and the girl who had sprung that question on him. Hmmm, there was something slightly off and his journalist's nose twitched at the whiff of a story hiding there behind Puckerman's seemingly relaxed stance. Maybe if he got one of his staff to look up Noah's background, check him out more thoroughly, maybe he could find out what had thrown off the arrogant SOB.

Noah, unaware of his host's thoughts, of course, finally wrapped up his answer and the band struck up the theme music as he turned back to the other man.

"Well, Noah Puckerman, thanks for coming by and good luck with both the book and the movie. Ladies and gentlemen, Noah Puckerman!"

The faint sound of the late-night New York traffic was muted as Kurt stared at the TV, watching Noah's sexy strut as he left the stage, stopping only briefly to greet and embrace the next guest to come on.

Kurt bit his lip as his eyes strayed up and down the man's admittedly fine body. Suddenly he shook himself and berated his wayward libido for even going there. There's no future there, you idiot, he muttered as he got up, turned off the TV and strolled over to the large French doors. The sight of the skyline always soothed him after a while and now was no different.

He leaned his forehead against the smooth glass and slowly, unwelcome tears pricked his eyes and then rolled down his cheeks. However, he took a shuddering breath and one last sip of wine before turning away.

He, too, had regrets and if he could turn back time, he would have gone back to the moment he rebuffed Noah after their dinner date. It hurt him then and it still hurt him now but he pulled himself together after a minute and then he got busy with his nighttime ablutions. Going through his moisturizing routine allowed him time to settle his thoughts before sliding into bed.

As he settled between the sheets, his eyes went to the clock on his bedside table. It was after two his time therefore it would be after 11 in L.A. The show had been live so he knew Noah would be heading out from the studio to his hotel room.

Kurt was thankful that he didn't have Noah's number or he knew, deep down, that he would have had to fight himself to stop from calling the other man. He'd thought that, having been to Diane's party in France, that it would have been enough to stomp down his feelings but that hadn't been the case.

Now he laid there, staring up at his ceiling and wondering what Noah was doing. Little did he know that he was not alone in his wondering.

Across the country, Noah was just walking into the hotel room and as he removed his jacket and placed it on the back of a chair, he moved over to the windows. He stood in unconscious imitation of Kurt's earlier stance and stared at the lights of the city. Inevitably, his mind went back to the question and the one thing he regretted most in his life.

Suddenly he reached for his phone and looked at it, debating with himself whether to call the number that he spent minutes each day staring at and torturing himself. Kurt had made it plain that he didn't want any contact with him but he couldn't help wondering if he was still angry with him.

Noah took a deep breath and pressed the keys, holding his breath; even though he knew New York was three hours ahead, Kurt was not an early bird. He crossed his fingers and waited as the phone on the other end buzzed, his mind chanting 'pick up, Kurt, please…'

Kurt, rolling over and looking at the fancy antique phone on his bedside table, frowned to himself. He couldn't imagine who would be calling him so late and, against his better judgment, he reached for the phone.

"Hello?"

The silence that greeted his query made him frown and he said again, "Hello?"

He was about to hang up and the person on the other end must have realized it because suddenly…

"Kurt?"

Kurt's heart hammered and he sat up so suddenly his head felt woozy. The voice was so unexpected that for a second he blanked. Then he drew in a breath … "Noah? What_?"

Noah squeezed his eyes shut as Kurt's voice whispered in his ear. His breath left him in a gust as he said, "Kurt, please, don't hang up."

Kurt closed his eyes as he dropped his head into a shaking hand. He remained silent as he listened to the open line, wondering what was happening to them. Finally, Noah's voice came again and Kurt bit his lip as he listened to him in his darkened bedroom. The unsolicited intimacy of the situation was not lost on Kurt and his heart ached at the missed opportunities.

Noah's voice was quiet as he said, "I need to see you, Kurt… please, just for a couple of hours?"

Kurt sat, stunned, and when he didn't reply immediately, Noah spoke again. "I know you have no reason to want to see me but … I can't stop thinking about you… wanting…"

Kurt interrupted him now, the earlier tears returning. "Noah, you aren't thinking clearly." He knew his voice was shaking but he had to get the words out. "We really have nothing to say. Please, don't do this…"

Noah rubbed his chest where the pain was and when he realized Kurt was crying, he hurried to say, "Kurt, don't cry; I didn't mean to upset you. Please, I can't leave things the way they are. Don't you understand?"

Kurt was starting to get angry now and he wiped the tears away. He hated feeling vulnerable but unfortunately, Noah Puckerman was maybe the only person who could do that to him.

"I do understand, I do! I just don't think it would help anything for us to see each other. Please, don't call me again!"

He hung up the phone even as he heard Noah's voice calling to him, "Kurt!"

Kurt threw the handset down, not replacing it in its cradle and he flung himself backwards onto his pillow.

How dare he do this to me! His silent scream was aimed at the uncaring ceiling, his mouth tight and his eyes large and wounded. What does he want? Absolution?

Kurt continued to rage for a minute or two, his legs pushing at the rumpled bedding and his hands clenched into fists. He finally dissolved into tears and at the start of the inevitable headache, he went into his en suite to fetch a glass of water and the painkillers. Two Tylenol should take care of this, he thought as he swallowed the tablets. Replacing the glass on the counter, he stared at himself in the mirror, noting how wrecked he looked.

Noah Puckerman was turning into his very own bête noire, he realized. Why couldn't he leave him alone? He had asked for Kurt's forgiveness and Kurt had told him he was forgiven. Why couldn't he just accept that and move on?

Maybe he wants more, dear, the unwelcome voice piped up. Kurt, jolted by the words, almost lashed out at the mirror but caught himself as he glared at his reflection. I didn't ask you, he snarled internally. I don't care what he wants, he's not going to get it!

We'll see, the smug sound of his mental voice irked him and he flounced back into his bedroom and threw himself onto it.

Ugh, I must be going mad, arguing with myself, he thought as he once again stared at the ceiling. He glanced down at the handset still on the bed and then hung up the phone properly. He better not call me back, he muttered now as he settled down again. Sleep was definitely shot to hell now and he grabbed the remote to turn on his TV.

He sighed as an interminable infomercial played on the screen and relaxed gradually as he allowed himself to be distracted by the wonders of a garden hose that miraculously rolled itself up after use.

He yawned as one boring commercial played after another and as his eyelids drooped, he thought to himself, Hmmm, maybe I should take Henri up on that offer he was not making. He smiled to himself, the last thing on his mind a scene of him dressed in an elaborately curled powdered wig, a black beauty spot beside his mouth. Monsieur Pompadour, he giggled sleepily, hmmm, that could work… and he finally drifted into sleep.

On the other coast, as the hours ticked towards midnight, Noah was throwing clothes into his suitcase. His poor PR person, who had no doubt been in bed with her husband, had been given the task of getting him the earliest flight possible to New York.

When she called him back with the necessary information, he smiled grimly. If Kurt thought he was going to give up, he clearly had forgotten that he was Puck. He didn't know what would happen when he got to the Big Apple but he had to do something.

Kurt Hummel was one regret that Noah was going to address… permanently.

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TBC

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