THE ACCIDENTAL CALL GIRL [Accidental Trilogy Book #1]
Please be aware that this excerpt contains sensual content that is only suitable
for adult readers who are comfortable with frank language and descriptions of
My first new Black Lace novel since 2008, The Accidental Call Girl has been in my mind since then, begging me to write it. At the time I first conceived the story, I was inspired by the television drama, The Secret Diary of a Call Girl but my heroine Lizzie really isn't very much like Belle de Jour, the ex escort whose memoirs inspired the show. For one thing, she isn't actually a call girl... or maybe she is, but with only one, very special client. Who may or may not be called "John Smith".
When Lizzie Aitchison meets John Smith in the Lawns Bar of the Waverley Grange Hotel she doesn't realise at first that he thinks she's "working". The chemistry between them is dynamite from the very first glance exchanged across the room, and she can't resist the allure of his fallen angel face and the way his lean body looks in a sharp business suit. Pretty soon, she's playing a dangerous game with him. John's a no nonsense guy who seems to be set on engaging an escort for sex rather than simply meeting a pretty girl to chat up in a bar, and if that's the only way she can get this gorgeous, irresistible man, Lizzie decides to act the part. Over just one drink, she becomes "Bettie", the high class call girl...
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Chapt. 1 - Meeting Mr Smith [unedited]
He looked like a god, the man
sitting at the end of the bar did. Really. Somehow, the glow from the
down-lighter just above him made his blond hair look like a halo. It was the
most breath-taking effect and Lizzie just couldn't stop staring.
Oops, oh no, he suddenly looked her
way. Unable to face his sharp eyes, she focused on her glass. Tonic, really
boring. But she'd done some mad things in her time, both under the influence
and sober. And she was alone now, and squarely in the mad things zone, having
got bored with the party she was supposed to be at in the hotel's function room
with Brent and Shelley and the others.
To look again or not to look again,
that was the question. She wanted to. The man was so very hot, although not her
usual type. Whatever that was. Slowly, slowly, she turned her head a few
centimetres, straining her eyes in order to see the god or angel guy, out of
Fuck! Damn! He wasn't looking now.
He was chatting to the bar man, favouring him with a killer smile, almost as if
he fancied him not any of the women at the bar. Was he gay? It didn't
really matter though, did it? She was only supposed to be looking, after all,
and he really was a sight for sore eyes.
With his attention momentarily
distracted, she grabbed a feast of him.
Not young, definitely. Possibly
early forties. Dark blond, curling hair, thick and a bit longer than one would
have expected for his age, but not straggling. Gorgeous face, even though his
features, in analysis, could almost have been called ordinary. Put together,
however, there was something extra, something indefinable that induced a 'wow'.
Perhaps it was his eyes? They were very bright, very piercing. Yes, it was
the eyes, probably. Even from yards away, she could tell they were a clear,
Or maybe it was his mouth too? His
lips were mobile, and they almost had a plush look to them. The smile he gave
the lucky barman was almost sunny, and when he suddenly snagged his lower lip
between his teeth, something went 'oof!' in Lizzie's mid-section. And lower
What's his body like? What's his
Hard to tell, with the curve of the
bar, and other people sitting between them, but if his general demeanour, and
the elegant shape of his hand as he lifted his glass to his lips were anything
to go by, he was lean and fit. But, that could be wishful thinking, she
admitted. He might actually be just some podgy middle-aged guy who just
happened to have a fallen angel's face and a very well-cut suit.
Just enjoy the bits you can see,
fool. That's all you'll ever get to look at.
With that, as if he'd heard her,
Fallen Angel snapped his head around and looked directly at her. No pretence,
no hesitation, he stared her down, his eyes frank and intent, his velvet lips
curved in a tricky, subtly quirked smile. As if showcasing himself, he shifted
slightly on his stool, and she was able to see a little more of him.
She'd been exactly right. He was
lean and fit, and the sleek way his clothes hung on him clearly suggested how
he might look when those clothes were flung wildly on the floor.
The temptation to look away was
like a living force, as if she were staring at the sun and its brilliance was a
fatal peril. But Lizzie resisted the craven urge, and held his gaze. She didn't
yield a smile. She just tried to eyeball him as challengingly as he was doing
her, and her reward was more of that sun on the lips and in the eyes, and a
little nod of acknowledgement.
'For you, miss.'
The voice from just inches away
almost made her fall off her stool. She actually teetered a bit, cursing inside
as she dragged her attention from the blue-eyed devil-angel at the end of the
bar to the rather toothsome young bar man standing right in front of her.
'Er... yes, thanks. But I didn't
There was no need to ask who'd sent
the drink that had been set before her, in a plain low glass, set on a white
napkin. It was about an inch and a half of clear fluid, no ice, no lemon, no nothing.
Just what she realised he was drinking.
She stared at it as the bar man
retreated, smiling to himself. He must go through this dance about a million
times every evening in a busy, popular, softly lit bar like The Lawns. It was the ideal venue for advances and
retreats, games of 'do you dare' over glasses of fluids various.
What the hell was that stuff?
Lighter fluid? Drain cleaner? A poisoned chalice?
She put it to her lips and took a
hit, catching her breath. It was neat gin, not the vodka she'd half expected.
It seemed a weird drink for a man, but perhaps he was a weird man? Taking a
very cautious sip this time, she placed the glass back carefully and turned
Of course, he was watching, and he
did a thing with his sandy eyebrows that seemed to ask if she liked his gift.
Lizzie wasn't sure that she did, but she nodded at him, took up the glass again
and toasted him.
The dazzling grin gained yet more
wattage, and he replied. Then with another elegant piece of body language, a
tilt of the head, a lift of the shoulders, he indicated she should join him.
More blatantly, he patted an empty stool beside him.
Here, rover! Just like an alpha
dog, he was summoning a bitch to his side.
Before she could stop herself, or
even really think what she was doing, Lizzie mirrored his little pantomime.
Here, Fido! Come!
There was an infinitesimal pause.
The man's exceptional eyes widened, and she saw surprise and admiration. Then
he slid gracefully off his stool, caught up his drink and headed her way.
Oh God, now what have I done?
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© 2012 Portia Da Costa and Black Lace Books
Lizzie and John's love story continues in...