Weaver’s in the bathroom when he hears the knock. He flushes the toilet and heads to the door. He passes a table on which sits the courtesy phone for reception. At the door, he turns the handle and pulls it toward him.
In front of him is the escort he bought online. She’s in skintight jeans and a t-shirt with a screen-printing of Lady Gaga’s face on it.
Weaver stands to one side.
The escort enters his hotel room and sits on the bed to unzip her boots.
Weaver puts his hands behind his back so he can take off his wedding ring. Once it’s off, he puts it into his pocket. He heads over to the bed, and the escort starts unbuckling his jeans.
‘Big boy,’ she says, feeling Weaver’s bulge.
Weaver tilts her chin up. He kisses her, the way that teenagers do, tentative at first before shoving a bit of tongue in.
‘Don’t go too fast, my first time.’
A virgin, Weaver thinks as he clasps her throat in both hands. My lucky day.