by Galia Ryan
Anna scanned the document in front of her. Another request for a personal loan facility, the tick box selection showing the funds were required for a holiday. Must be going somewhere nice, she thought, seeing the application was for a five figure amount.
Would it hurt to find out a bit more about the escort business? After all, it was not as if she was a virgin.
She brought the customer’s details up onto her screen. Nothing too concerning. A few occasions when one of the daily accounts had ventured into an unauthorised overdraft situation, but other than that, nothing to raise red flags.
She wondered how much an escort was paid. Wasn’t that the whole point of the exercise? Why else would anyone put themselves through the ordeal of having sex with strangers?
Approving an application for a somewhat expensive and unnecessary vacation when she had far greater needs helped make up her mind. That night she called the number again.
“Hi. Is that Stephanie?”
“Yes. How can I be of help?”
“It’s Anna. I called yesterday.”
“I remember.”
“I’d like to take up your offer to meet if it’s still open.”
“Of course. When are you thinking of?”
“Well, I’m not sure. What about tomorrow?”
“Evening?”
“Yes.”
“That would be fine. Shall we say seven? Let me give you the address.”
Chapter 3.
Anna was surprised at the agency’s location. She had expected a business so sordid to be on a back street, well hidden from prying eyes. Far from it. Nestled in a tree-lined avenue of high-quality jewellers and fashion designers, the frontage of the four-story Edwardian townhouse was nonetheless discreet, consisting of no more than a glossy black door and brass plaque.
She rang the bell under the intercom and glanced around. Considering the doorstep on which she stood, the last thing she wanted was for anyone to think she worked there. Hearing a disembodied voice, she leaned close to whisper her name, and the door opened with an electronic click.
Her first impression was a stylish palette of butter-cream and white, offset by black and white tiling. Impressive modern artwork dominated, and the furniture—what little there was of it—had obviously been expertly selected. The woman walking towards her looked as if she had stepped from the annuls of Norse mythology. She was tall, perhaps five foot nine, with ash-blonde hair swept up into a sophisticated French chignon. Her short, cream-coloured shift dress, reminiscent of the style epitomised by Jean Shrimpton and Twiggy in the sixties, would have taken most, if not all of Anna’s fortnightly pay check. But more than that, there was an undeniable authority about her.
“You must be Anna. I’m Stephanie. Come in.”
The welcome was warm and surprisingly reassuring.
In what might have once been a drawing room, cream leather sofas were layered with cushions, their reds and blues drawn from the antique Turkish rug that covered most of the otherwise pale carpet. Cleverly placed lamps created pools of interest, and there was more artwork upon the walls. Seeing that a painting propped up on the mantelpiece had caught Anna’s attention, Stephanie went over to it and gently placed a finger on the frame.
“Matisse. The colours are just beautiful, aren’t they?”
“Lovely,” Anna agreed. This was obviously the woman’s element; both she and the room complemented each other beautifully.
“Please, sit down.” Stephanie gestured to the sofa. “So, if I have understood correctly, you would like to know a little more about the role of an escort?”
Anna nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Overwhelmed by her surroundings, she would have given anything for an ounce of the other woman’s poise and assurance.
“Perhaps I had better start by explaining up front that the agency does not offer women for sexual purposes.”
“Sorry?” Anna was brought back to earth with a bump. “I thought that’s what it was all about.”
“Anna, we offer an introductory service and no more. If a gentleman requires the company of a lady—whether for an hour or the entire evening—we like to think we can provide just the right match.” Stephanie crossed her evenly tanned legs. “Once the introduction has been made, as far as we are concerned, any other arrangements are strictly between the client and the escort.”
“Oh.”
“Perhaps at this point I should also mention that we are very selective when it comes to those we take on. We do expect our ladies to be well-presented.”
There was no mistaking the meaningful look directed at her faded jeans. Anna blushed, having purposefully dressed down for the meeting.
“We also expect our ladies to be intelligent and able to hold their own in any company, and at any level.”
“I see.”
“Not quite what you were expecting?” Stephanie asked gently.
“No, not at all. So, is there no sex involved?”
“As I have already said, anything of a sexual nature that takes place is entirely between the gentleman and the escort. However, it should be said for most of our clients, sex is a prerequisite, and that is something you must take into account when deciding if this role is for you.”
Anna was not naive and knew in her heart that being an escort required the offer of sex in return for money, but the opulence that surrounded her was unnerving. She wondered if it signified that the agency was hugely successful or if it hid a more unpleasant side. Who, exactly, were the men who paid for all this? Were they all wealthy? Or did the agency also have clients with more modest salaries?
“May I ask ... what are the requirements to work for the agency?” She clasped her hands, hoping to disguise the fact that they were shaking.
“There are very few, actually. As I have said, we are very selective. We need to ensure we have nothing but the very best on our books.”
“And how often do your escorts work?”
“That is up to them. Our ladies inform us when they are available, and we make the introductions. Some work only during the day, others in the evenings. Some are only available on certain days, others at any time. It all comes down to their individual situations and expectations.”
“So it’s possible to do it for, say, three nights a week?”
“Indeed. Would that be what would suit in your case?”
“Oh, I’m just thinking aloud at the moment.” The words rushed out.
Stephanie nodded as if she understood.
“And, what would I need to do to get on your books?”
“Well, first we would need to do an in-depth interview. I would need to be assured that you would be of benefit to the agency and that you would in turn be happy with us.”
“And would I have to do anything else?”
“Such as?”
“Well, I don’t know.”
There was an awkward silence.
“Anna, may I ask ... are you comfortable in your own skin?”
“My skin? Naked, do you mean?”
“Both dressed and undressed.” Stephanie relaxed back into her chair, an encouraging smile on her flawlessly lined lips. “When you look in the mirror, do you like what you see?”
“I suppose so. I mean, there are things I would change if I could.”
“Such as?”
“Well, I don’t like my nose. I think it’s a little big.”
“Anna, if I had a dollar for every woman who has said that, I would be a very wealthy woman! Your nose is perfect,” Stephanie reassured her. “I will say, though, I think your eyes are definitely your best feature. What colour are they? Grey?”
“More blue than grey really.” Anna was uncomfortable with such scrutiny.
“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. Will you stand up for me? I’d like to see a little more of you.”
For the second time that evening Anna regretted that she hadn’t dressed with a little more care. Her boots could have done with a polish, and even her jacket had
seen better days.
“As you can imagine, one of the requirements of an escort is a portfolio of photographs. After all, how else would a client be able to make his decision? Elite’s portfolios are very comprehensive and include a range of images from fully clothed to completely naked, or as good as. How do you feel about that?”
“I’m not sure. Obviously I realise the importance of a portfolio. It’s just that I’ve never had those type of photographs taken before.”
“Which type?”
“Well, photographs which show my body.”
“Not on holiday? At the beach? In a bikini?” Stephanie sounded incredulous.
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“I have no idea. It just is.” Anna shrugged a little self-consciously.
“Might it not be your own perception that one is more acceptable than the other?”
Anna frowned. Did Stephanie have a point? She wasn’t sure.
“But even if I wanted to go further with this, and I’m still not sure that I do,” Anna added quickly, “not only do I not have a portfolio, I haven’t the money to pay for one.”
“I understand. Working as an escort is a big decision, and one you must not take lightly. Now, as far as a portfolio goes, we do have options. For example, we could arrange a shoot for you with a photographer who has worked with us before, and you could repay the agency at a later date.”
“Oh. I see.” Anna was unnerved again. Everything was moving a little too fast.
“I think we both have much to consider, Anna. Is there anything else you would like to know? I’m sure you have more questions. We could always get together another time if you are still interested.”
Stephanie seemed to be pulling back, as if realising that Anna might not be a good enough candidate for the agency after all.
“Well, yes, I do have more questions. Let’s say I wanted to go ahead. How soon could I start?”
“We would need to complete the interview first,” Stephanie reminded her.
Anna was horribly aware that she was on the hook and being reeled in, slowly and carefully.
“Can we do that now?”
Stephanie made a point of looking at her watch.
“Why not? Would you like a coffee, or perhaps a glass of wine, before we start?”
Chapter 4.
As she considered the two bottles she had taken from the wine chiller, Stephanie congratulated herself on recognising an opportunity. Anna’s need for an additional source of income was in no way unusual, but she was unique in other ways.
Considering that she was in her mid-twenties, there was a surprising element of naivety about her, most noticeably in those wide and innocent eyes. Not only that, her skin had retained the luminosity of youth older men found so attractive. Both were a refreshing change in her world, but more to the point, they were rarities to be exploited. Clients would happily pay higher introductory fees to book an escort who looked like anything but.
Sauvignon Blanc, albeit from a good vineyard, or champagne?
She made her choice, and returned the second bottle to the shelf.
* * *
Anna was relieving her tension by running a finger along a highly polished surface. She wondered if Stephanie had once been an escort herself. She also wondered if the woman owned this business outright or shared it with a husband.
“Sauvignon Blanc!” Stephanie placed two glasses on the coffee table. “From Marlborough, New Zealand. I hope you like it.”
Anna returned to her place on the sofa and obediently tasted her wine.
“It’s lovely. I once thought about going to New Zealand,” she offered, wanting for a few moments to talk about anything other than what she was there for.
“Really?”
“Yes. They grow a lot of organic food and I thought it might be interesting to work in an orchard. Or in a vineyard.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“When I look back I don’t know. Family pressure probably. I went straight from university to work.”
“And would you still like to travel?”
“One day. When I can afford it.”
“Well, why don’t we see if we can do something about that?” Stephanie reached for a pen and notebook. “What I would like to do first, though, is to find out a little more about you. Some of these questions will naturally be very personal, but your answers will help me in making a decision. Are you all right with that?”
“If I choose not to answer, would that mean I have failed?”
“It would, I’m afraid.”
“Okay. I understand. Let’s do it!”
“So, why don’t we start with some easy questions? Tell me a bit about yourself.”
“Well, I’m twenty-five, I have a degree in Business Studies, and I work in a bank. There’s not much else, I’m afraid.”
“Do you intend to make the financial world your career?”
“Yes. But in a more specialised area.”
“Such as?”
“Money markets and trading. Somewhere I can deal with more complex products.”
“I’m impressed.”
Anna hoped the rest of the questions would be this easy.
“And I think I’m right in recalling your telling me that you are not in a relationship at the moment?”
“Yes that’s right. I split up with my boyfriend a while ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Were you together for long?”
She hesitated, and stared down at her glass.
“About six months.”
“And were you living together?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
His name was Nick. She had thought they might have been in love but in hindsight realised she had simply been looking for comfort, someone to hold her hand while she coped with her mother’s death. His moving in had seemed a logical progression—he had been staying over for longer and longer periods—but the fun of being together had been countered by the mundane reality of day-to-day living. It wasn’t far from the truth to say she was relieved when he finally moved out. Even so, there were times when she missed being welcomed home by delicious aromas wafting from the kitchen.
“He’s in a band. They’re good, and things took off for them.”
“I see.” Stephanie paused. “So, how many sexual partners have you had?”
Anna hesitated. She took another sip of wine before clearing her throat. “Altogether? Three or four.”
“And how many were long-term?”
“All of them. I’ve never slept around.”
“Of course not,” Stephanie reassured her. “The point of the question is to determine the extent of your sexual experience. The longer the relationship, the more one would expect that you had experimented, shall we say.”
“Sorry. Of course.”
“So, Anna. Tell me about your preferred sexual positions.”
Anna stared at the rug, studying the pattern, the interchange of colours. “Look, I don’t …” Her voice quavered.
“That’s perfectly understandable. I’m sure you realise that an escort, a successful escort”—the emphasis was marked—“may be required to offer such details to her client. And when she does, she should be able to do it with a degree of style and without embarrassment. Did you really think that all an escort does is lie on her back and work out her shopping list?” Stephanie replaced the cap on her Mont Blanc pen.
“Well, I like it when I’m on top,” Anna said quickly, “and I liked it when Nick, that’s my ex, was behind me and I was on all fours.”
“And do you enjoy sucking a man’s cock?”
Anna’s face burned.
“Sometimes.”
“That’s a bit evasive.”
“I don’t think I am very good at it. Let’s put it that way.”
“I understand. And what about anal sex?”
Stephanie had reopened her notebook and was writing briskly. Anna wondered uneasi
ly what she would do with all the information she was gathering.
“No!” Her response was emphatic.
“You’ve never tried it?”
“No. Never.”
“Do you think your partners might have wanted to?”
“I don’t think so.”
“But you don’t know?”
“No.”
“Hmm.”
Anna wondered what Stephanie meant. Despite a promising start, the interview did not seem to be going well at all. She reached for her glass and was surprised to find it empty.
“Have you ever been with a woman, Anna?”
“No.”
“Have you ever wanted to?”
“Not really.”
Silence.
“Anna, I’m going to be honest with you. You may recall my mentioning earlier that anything of a sexual nature between the client and the escort is a private matter for them alone. And that is true. However, it would be remiss of us if we did not require all of our ladies to have a certain amount of experience in that direction. Unfortunately, yours appears to be very limited.”
“I’m sure I could learn.”
“I’m sure you could too, but …”
“Please. Let me try. I need the money.”
For a moment Stephanie hesitated, as if weighing the consequences.
“Let me see your body.”
In her desperation to please, Anna was ready to do anything. She stood, and balancing first on one foot and then the other removed her boots and socks. Without ceremony she pulled her t-shirt up and over her head and then unzipped her jeans and pushed them down, wiggling frantically when the fabric lodged on her slender hips.
She let her hands fall to her sides.
The other woman said nothing, just waited expectantly.
Realisation hit, and Anna quickly reached behind to unclip her bra. Then removed her briefs.
Carefully appraising her as if she was a valuable piece of art, Stephanie stood and reached out to cup one of her breasts.
“What size?”
“32C.”