I shared my raise with Stacy, and she was ecstatic. “It’s about time you were getting paid what you’re worth, girl!” she squealed in the bathroom, jumping up and down and clapping. “We totally need to celebrate. Road trip?”
We hopped on the road and ran to Houston together, staying at Hotel ZaZa and exploring the city. We had fun, but didn’t spend too much money. Although we had gotten really close over the time we worked together, I didn’t tell her about my night job. I didn’t want her to get suspicious, especially since she knew I had only recently been complaining about money and bills just several weeks ago. If I suddenly started blowing cash, she’d have a ton of questions. So while we stayed at one of the city’s best hotels, we kept the meals and shopping to a minimum.
“Here’s to big boobs and bigger salaries,” she toasted, lifting her Vegas Bomb shot in offering.
I offered mine to her in return. “Yes! To big, beautiful boobs and way bigger, more beautiful salaries. Cheers!”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Spring was approaching fast, and I was starting to get into the flow of being an escort. As flowers and trees started to blossom and bloom, so did my workload. I guess everyone was lulling out of their post-holiday winter slumber.
Over the months, business would ebb and flow. Some months I made my target of $20,000; others I fell a couple thousand dollars short.
February was an amazing month. I racked up over $50,000. It was unbelievable, but after paying me $15,000 for Valentine’s Day weekend and all the gifts, the same client, whose name is Mark, dropped another $10,000 in my lap, giving me a total of $25,000 plus gifts.
“You deserve it for treating me to such a wonderful time,” he said. “Thanks for the incredible experience.”
March sucked. Things slowed down abruptly. I made about $7,000. I had to do a lot of bargaining with clients the entire month. Some would tell me they only could afford this or that while they waited for their tax return. Some wanted me to cut my fees in half. I wasn’t mean or coldhearted by any means, but I was definitely all about my money, honey! There was no love to be had if you couldn’t afford my time. I would give slight breaks to my regulars, since I had a few, but I also cut my time and frills short.
I still kept in contact with my escorting coach. She praised me for catching on quickly, but scolded me for taking discounted fees.
“Once a client knows they can break you, they’ll continue to do so. If a client can’t afford your time, that’s just too bad for them. They need to work harder or manage their money better. Your body should be soft and supple, not your game or your offerings,” she hissed. “Don’t let me hear about this again. If you ever reduce your fees to please a client again, I’m charging triple for advice to prove a point.”
I managed to generate almost $70,000 in the first couple of months. I paid my rent upfront for the year, paid off all my credit cards, and managed to put a nice amount of leftover money in my bank account. I even opened up a separate account to for most of money I earned as I worked. When I opened the account, I had to fill out some kind of special form. Apparently, when you have more than $10,000 in your account, it’s a federal mandate to file this information with the IRS. I had never known, because my bank account had never looked this good, even when I lived at home.
Speaking of home, mom and dad were doing well. I spoke to them as much as possible, but it wasn’t as often as it used to be. Not because I didn’t want to talk to them; because I was so busy between clients and work that I rarely had time to talk to them.
Mom often asked about dating and men. While I was lonely, I didn’t let her know that. I just told her that the men were cool and I was dating to fill my time. She asked about my ex and his new girlfriend. I cringed hearing the news, but played it off and told her that I hadn’t spoken to him since we broke up, but that it all sounds great and I wished him the best.
Dad often worried about perverts. Little did he know the real pervert was the one he was on the phone with. I promised myself that I could never let my father find out what I had been doing. His princess? An escort? It would crush him.
Yes, I admit that if I had reached out to my parents for money months ago, they would have helped me out, no questions asked. But this wasn’t about them. I was doing this for me. I was 24, and at the age where I shouldn’t need anyone helping me out. I needed simply to survive.
I get that not too many people to understand that. Considering that it could be said that I was born with the proverbial silver spoon in my mouth, and I was gorgeous intelligent, it just didn’t seem right for me to feel a need to hustle my body for money. But as tough as things were here in Dallas, I was here to stay and climb the corporate ladder. And I wanted to feel like I finally done it on my own.
At the heart of it all, that’s what motivated me: the need to accomplish something on my own. My parents had helped me out long enough most of my life. I was pretty blessed to have parents and two protective older brothers who loved me. But the two years I struggled to find work after graduation, I felt helpless; like they were there for me because they had to be. I know it wasn’t true. I know they all truly cared, but it didn’t take away from the feelings of inadequacy and insecurity that came from working so hard for my career and being unable to get my foot in the door so I could be independent.
I didn’t want to be another expense. But even more than that, I didn’t want to feel like a privileged charity case. They deserved to see me shine. They just didn’t need to know the sacrifices I’d make in order for it to happen without their help.
****
“Lie down. I’ll go slowly.”
“You promise?”
“Yes.”
I was at the Omni hotel with a rather timid client named Michael. It was his 18th birthday. I had serviced his dad on a previous occasion, and I guess he decided to share the experience with his oldest son to make him a man.
My hair was done in bombshell curls. Makeup-wise, I rocked retro cat eyes and red lips, and sprayed myself with Sublime Vanilla. I wore a red bandage dress and heels. He wore a basic rocker tee and ripped jeans with skater sneakers. His glasses were simply designed, yet thick. His mustache did nothing to hide his still babyish features.
As we looked over the city, Michael and I had gotten acquainted over drinks. I had tossed back a few drinks at the hotel bar, but his dad also brought him a bottle of liquor too.
Michael was kind of peeved by the fact that his dad had taken him to an escort. I can’t lie; it was somewhat weird to have his dad drop him off a well. Not because it isn’t customary for a man to bring his son or brother to me as a referral. But the fact was that the man was married. He was married, and he had no issues taking his son to see an escort. Silly me, I figured this was one of those secrets you kept to yourself for the sake of preserving your marriage, but that wasn’t the case.
According to Michael, his dad wasn’t married to his mom, but to his stepmom, who apparently was in it for the money more than anything. I also learned that part of Michael’s discomfort came from the fact that his dad allegedly cheated on his mom with escorts before divorcing her after having an affair with his current stepmom, who was his dad’s former secretary.
“Sucks, because dad’s got all this money and a hot young wife he’s had two more kids with, but my mom is still upset over the split. It happened four years ago, but she treats it as if it were yesterday,” he confessed sheepishly.
Michael was refreshing. Usually I have to drink or pop a pill to get comfortable with clients, but I didn’t need to get close to wasted in order to feel relaxed with him. He was a sweet, quiet kid who almost seemed not to take after his dad. I say almost because even though he had a girlfriend, Michael wasn’t going to completely pass on he action.
“I don’t know if I want to go all the way,” he said, when I finally leaned in to kiss his neck and get the ball rolling. “But dad paid for this, and it’s my birthday. I guess you should at least suck my cock.”
Michael’s penis was average. Totally average. As he lay back on the bed, pant-less, I placed myself in the triangle between his legs and leaned down, taking his cock in my mouth. Face down, ass up, I kept my ass hoisted high in the air for his viewing pleasure. My dress rolled up, revealing my G-string panties, which he called sexy.
I sucked him nice and slow, because that’s specifically what he requested. As I licked over the eye of his penis, he groaned and commented that his girlfriend didn’t give head this good.
I firmly held the base with my left hand. “Well from what I can tell, she’s very young and new to sex. Treat her right and coach her. I promise the better you treat a girl, the better her blowjobs will be.”
He pointed to his balls. “Kiss them for me? She never does that.”
I kissed each of his balls, making loud kissing noises and leaving red lip prints on them. I felt his cock harden in response. He started jerking his cock slowly with one hand while he directed me to “keep playing with my balls.”
Many women seem to overlook balls when giving head. That’s a huge mistake; men absolutely love when you pay attention to their balls. As an escort, especially one who aims to try and suck the load out of a client before he wants to have sex, I can’t afford the luxury. When a man wants his balls sucked, I’m going to suck them if I think it will make him blow his load.
Sucking one, then the other, ball into my mouth, I alternated back and forth to maximize his pleasure. I rolled them around in my mouth, sucking and teasing them to his delight as he continued stroking himself. Seeing the pleasure I’m giving him turns me on. I reach back and start playing with my awakened clit.
Michael pauses his strokes, squeezing his dickhead. I recognize he’s trying to prevent himself from blowing his load too quickly. I can tell that while he’ll be a simple blowjob, he’s still going to require work. He’s determined to savor this experience. For $2000, I’m sure he was told he needed to make the most of this affair.
“You play with yourself?” he says, sitting up. He’s fully paused from jerking himself to examine my behavior.
“Yes, when I’m turned on like I am now.”
“Sucking my cock turns you on?” His incredulous expression was so cute. He couldn’t believe such a thing were possible.
I bit my lip as my fingers dived in my pussy. Looking him in the eye, I responded. “Yes.”
“My girlfriend hates sucking my cock. She says it’s disgusting and that only whores like doing it.” He paused, thought about what he said. Turning red with embarrassment, he offered up an apology. “S-sorry. I don’t mean to call you a whore. I mean, you are an escort and all but I don’t want you to think I think you’re like some street whore or …”
I cut him off by interrupting his thoughts, tasting my pussy juices off my hand in one solid lick of my fingers, moaning. I took the same hand and started stroking his cock for him, throwing in my own haughty response to his girlfriend’s attitude.
“Darling, I am a whore. And I’ll let you in on a little secret: All women are whores with men they truly like. Your girlfriend just doesn’t know what the fuck she’s talking about. If she can’t suck your cock the way you want her too when you two are older, then you’ll find yourself coming back to me in order to get your pleasure. Why do you think I’m in business? I do everything she can’t – no won’t – do and I make sure that you get your needs met while her head’s turned so you don’t flat out leave her for her frigid, uptight beliefs.”
My snappy comeback was met with silence. Michael’s eyes were hurt. It was as if I had bitch slapped him. He looked like he was about to cry, and I didn’t need that. I went for the quick save.
“I’m sorry, Michael,” I said placing a juicy kiss on the head of his penis, and more on his shaft and balls. “I just had a moment of temporary madness. I know you didn’t mean any harm. Please forgive me?”
Michael nodded, eyes closed from reactivation of his pleasure points. “It’s okay.”
“Now, if you don’t mind, today’s your 18th birthday, and your father paid for me to suck, lick, kiss, adore and worship your cock as a gift welcoming you to manhood. He paid nicely so you’d know what it’s like to have your penis treated like royalty, so relax and let me continue earning every dollar Daddy’s paid so you can leave with the experience of a lifetime.”
He responded by pushing my lips down on his cock.
CHAPTER NINE
Stacy hadn’t come to work for a week. I called her, but she hadn’t responded. According to Dean, he hadn’t heard from her either. This wasn’t like her.
The last time I had spoken to her was last weekend. She mentioned getting ready to save some more money from summer school, but learning that her mom had been laid off. She ended up giving up her summer school funds to help her parents pay bills.
We spoke often, almost everyday at work, but I didn’t have her address. We’d always met up at a shopping plaza or restaurant for our get-togethers, and when we went on our road trip, she picked me up in her car.
I just knew the bar she worked at on the side. I called and was told she wasn’t there. I hadn’t seen anything in the news about her, but knowing how much she loved this job, I had every reason to worry. Stacy made too much money to mess it up here at GemTech. Something just wasn’t right. I was concerned, but there wasn’t much I could do until I had her address or heard from her.
****
I was coming from my lunch break one afternoon when I passed by Dean’s office and saw Stacy speaking to him. The energy between them looked serious. She seemed so tense and Dean’s face was stern, so I didn’t make my presence known. I just quietly made my way back to my desk and continued working. I guess they heard me, because within minutes the door was closed.
Dean’s glass was frosted, and the office was soundproof, so whatever they discussed would be kept between them and God. I was a little bummed; I hoped to overhear what was going on, but truth be told, I was busy as it was.
GemTech was getting ready to launch a new medical app that would revolutionize the way hospitals conducted business, and we needed to prepare a bunch of documents for the marketing department’s art team, who would design our promo materials for social media. Furthermore, I would be traveling over the next few weeks to help present the new app at exhibits, so I was looking up hotel booking in the cities I’d be staying at. I had trips booked to San Diego, Las Vegas and New York.
Stacy emerged from Dean’s office after a prolonged period. She seemed to be out of it. She was dressed attractively, but there was a bit of a frown on her face. Her frame seemed a little more gaunt than usual. I tried to get eye contact, but she kept her head down and focused on her work. I took it as a cue to leave her be and focus on the press releases and media appearances the company wanted to send out and coordinate in Dallas as well as the upcoming cities on my agenda.
Engrossed in my work throughout the afternoon, I’d check Skype occasionally to see if Stacy was online. She was at her desk and working, but she was not logged in. If she was, she was invisible.
I sent her a message anyway: I missed you. I hope all is well. I look forward to catching up with you…
She didn’t respond, but when I passed her to go to the restroom, she looked up at me and smiled weakly. Her smile then collapsed into a worried expression as she furrowed her brows and resumed her focus on the computer.
When I left that evening, I noticed Stacy was still at work, as was Dean. As I turned out the lights in the main portion of the office, I heard Dean call Stacy to the office. She stood up, rolled her eyes and smiled at me. “See ya later, sweetie,” she said before heading in to see what he wanted.
I made it all the way to my car when I realized that I had left my cell phone on my desk. I don’t know how I managed to do that; I’m usually really careful because I tracked my appointments and deposits via apps on it.
Leaving my phone wasn’t an option. I didn’t have any appointments, but I also didn’t have any other means
of contacting my parents or getting in touch with anyone. I didn’t have, or even need, a house phone.
Cussing myself for my airheadedness, I made my way back into the building. At this time, only security was present. It was afterhours, and nobody would be left in the building if they needn’t be there.
The entrance to my department was dark. All the lights were out. I tiptoed towards my desk, grabbing my phone. It was on the desk where I had left it. Thank God maintenance or anyone else hadn’t snatched it up!
I checked a couple of alerts briefly. A few men were interested in appointments for the evening, but nothing seemed interesting. I had been working hard enough the past week, so while I would have loved the extra money, these men would have to wait.
“To have the option to say no. That’s a wonderful thing,” I muttered to myself.
Succulence (Succulent Trilogy #1) Page 4