by S. E. Law
“Well why not?” Lucy clucks. “You know everything they do right and wrong. You could start a fresh, better, escorting service for New York City.”
I think for a moment, my mind whirring.
“Oh my god, Lucy. I can’t believe I am actually considering this!” But then my excitement fades. I make a face into the camera, my lips tightening in hesitation. “But do you really think I could do it?” Her eyes grow wide at my admission of self-doubt.
“What’s stopping you!?” she burbles. “Oh, you just have to do it! I can help you too because God knows, I need some excitement in my life.” Teasingly, she places her hand softly over Harlow’s ear as if to stop her from hearing what she is about to say next. “I love my kids, but I could definitely use some time out of the house with grownups. I can help you brainstorm and get things off the ground.”
“Eeek! Okay. Let’s do it!” I happily exclaim. “Thank you so much Lucy, I’m so glad I have you in my life. It’s nice to have a friend I know I can always count on.” She smiles back at me.
“Of course! I love you Rose. I’ve gotta get the kiddos to bed now but we’ll talk soon okay? Mommy life! Ugh,” she says laughing. “Have a great rest of your night.” We hang up the phone and I fall back onto the couch once more, only this time I feel much lighter.
I’m not sure when or how, but it has been decided. Come hell or high water, I am going to build my own New York City escorting agency.
2
Rose
I’m sitting at a table for two at La Rizza downtown waiting for Johnson to get back from the men’s room. It’s another City Girls date, my third one so far this week. At least tonight is going much better than my previous date with Mitchell. For one, this client isn’t sweating like a pig and letting the droplets fall into his eyes.
Johnson arranged for us to have dinner and drinks at a renowned Italian restaurant. The establishment is intimate yet stunning. There are large wooden beams running the length of the ceiling adorned with vivid green grape vines. Whether the plants are real or not is beyond me, but they sure fancy the place up. The walls are painted to look like the streets of Italy and we sit kitty corner from a magnificent painting of the Trevi Fountain. Each table is topped with a gold tinted candle. The ambiance transports you abroad the moment you walk through the large double wooden doors.
To be honest, my date isn’t so bad looking himself. Johnson is a mix of high and low. His body is firm and muscular, yet his face and hands remain soft and supple, almost feminine. He has bleached blonde hair and glowing baby blue eyes, which I suspect are from contacts. He is intelligent, well-spoken, and of course, filthy rich.
In short, Johnson is the whole package. The only problem is that he knows it and clearly thinks the world revolves around him. You can tell by the way he looks down his nose at the wait staff, as if he’s a god and they’re his servants. Ugh. This kind of behavior always disgusts me. We’re all human beings. People are just doing their jobs and we should respect that.
But this is nothing new because we get his type every once in a while in the escort business: guys whom you’d think would have no need to pay for female company. The problem isn’t a lack of women. No, not at all. I’m sure many ladies would swoon to spend a fancy night out with a man like Johnson. He’s here because he doesn’t think it’s worth it: the effort, the caring, and the thought it would take to win over a woman with a great first date is too much for him. He’s too wrapped up in himself to maintain a relationship. He sees no value in demonstrating affection or making any kind of an investment in a relationship. And his kind would rather put forward money than time, especially since he’s only interested in attaining one thing from this dinner: lust.
The awful thing is that I think I might give him what he wants anyways. How hypocritical of me, right? But I haven’t had a good-looking man booked in a while. So what if Johnson’s full of himself? I can make even more money and maybe if I avoid looking in his eyes, the sex will be good. It’s not like I’ll ever have to see him again.
“Sorry about that, where were we?” Johnson says as he sits back down at the table. He takes out his napkin and places it in his lap.
“You were telling me about your work. The financing firm you started with your brother,” I respond.
He nods, his skin a bit too tanned.
“Oh yes, well anyways the moral of the story is that we take small companies in the start-up phase and basically parent them. When a business comes our way that we know is going to be successful, we give them capital to get off the ground and consultant services to keep them on the right path. In essence, we jump-start the inevitable and in turn, get to keep a hefty chunk of their profit.”
“So you help people achieve their dreams?” I ask, trying to justify my possible decision to sleep with him tonight by painting this in a positive light. He thinks for a moment. But it’s no use because Johnson is a pure capitalist.
“I like to think of it as making as much money as possible for the least amount of work. I let the little guys get their hands dirty. Meanwhile, I sit back in my office sipping scotch waiting for my check to cash.” He winks at me and swirls his drink before taking a sip. “If people benefit along the way that’s just a side effect,” he finishes, squashing my attempt to like him. What a greedy corporate bastard.
“Anyways, it’s all rather boring really. It’s simply a money machine and I love it. What about you? Do you do anything besides, well, this?” he asks me, gesturing vaguely with his free hand.
I perk up, sensing an opportunity. After all, Johnson’s a business consultant and I want to start my own business. It’s perfect, right? I bet he could give me some great pointers. I slide to the edge of my seat, suddenly eager to share my ideas with the oily man.
“Coincidentally, I’ve decided to open my own shop!” I exclaim. He cocks his head sideways, looking somewhat perplexed. I’m sure it’s not the answer he expected, but I bet he’ll be impressed once he hears my plan.
“I’m going to start my own escorting agency called Saucy Nights. Cute name, right? It’s perfect really, because I already know the industry inside out. I can build a high-end escorting service for New York City, one that offers far better benefits for both the clients and the girls.” To my disappointment, Johnson merely looks amused before patting his lips delicately with a napkin.
“That’s adorable babe. Saucy Nights, huh? Your ambition is cute.”
“I beg your pardon?!” I ask, stunned. How dare he call my plans cute? What a sexist statement. Where does he get the nerve?
The blond man merely shrugs while popping an olive in his mouth.
“You’ll never make it sweetheart,” he adds. “You’re an escort. Come on, what do you know about running a company? Trust me, it’s an entirely different world than the one you live in. You’re used to pretty things and little fripperies. You’d get eaten alive out there.” He goes on for a few more minutes, popping olives while casually insulting my intelligence. I feel my cheeks beginning to burn as he continues to degrade me. What the hell? I hold in my anger as long as I can, but finally it gets to be too much and I snap.
“Where do you think you get off telling me I won’t succeed? You have no idea what I am and am not capable of,” I say in a tight voice, refusing to meet his eyes.
I have to fight to keep my voice low enough to not draw attention to our table. Meanwhile, Johnson is clearly turned off by the way I have spoken to him, but he keeps his cool. He sets his drink down and leans back in his chair before shooting me another smooth look.
“Businesses need capital. Where would you get that?” he states in a cool tone. I feel a lump grow in my throat. That’s something that never occurred to me.
“I have some money saved up in the bank. I could put that into my business,” I reply, scrambling for words. My voice sounds rigid, almost frozen.
“You’re going to need more than the few thousand bucks you have stashed away in the bank.” His assumption about my financial well-being re
ally floors me. Of course, he’s spot on, but it’s still incredibly insulting. “You’ll need a website, marketing, employees, insurance, and a photographer for headshots. That all costs money, little girl. Where are you going go get it? I assure you it costs far more than you could have saved up working as an escort,” he sneers in a denigrating tone.
That’s it. I’m through with this goddamn date. I don’t care if he reports me to the agency. I pull my napkin from my lap and angrily toss it on the table. Snatching my coat, I storm out of the restaurant without even so much as a good riddance to Johnson. I’ll probably lose my fee for the night, but it’s worth avoiding another minute sitting in the restaurant with that condescending prick.
Anger bubbles in my chest the entire walk home. I cannot stop thinking about the audacity of this man! How could he speak to me like that? Just because he hired me doesn’t me he can treat me like dog shit on the bottom of his shoe.
I’m furious. Until I step inside my apartment that is. As I retreat inside, I pull the door closed as quickly as I can behind me, trying to shut myself off to the world before the first tear drops. I collapse to the ground right there, leaning my back up against the door. Hand cupped over my mouth, I let myself gently cry.
Johnson was a dick, but I realize that isn’t why I got so upset. It’s because there is truth in his words. I need money to get Saucy Nights off the ground, and the start-up costs are likely more than I have saved in the bank.
I wallow for a moment more before forcing myself up off of the floor, stumbling a bit as I right my frame.
“Get it together, girl,” I say out loud as I make my way to the couch. Then, I take a seat and inhale deeply before closing my eyes. I have to stay positive. Stay positive, stay positive.
Then, my phone starts ringing, and sure enough, it’s Shannon, my manager at City Girls. Could this evening get any worse? I imagine her in my head: she’s a tall, skinny, blonde woman with dramatic facial features. Her sharp cheek bones and square jaw line could render her a unique kind of beautiful if only she didn’t over-exaggerate her already out-there features by caking a gallon of harsh makeup. But even without the cosmetics, beauty resonates from within. And within Shannon, unfortunately, there is nothing pretty.
I answer the phone, cringing as a pounding beat echoes over the phone. Dang, wherever she’s at is super loud because it sounds like a raucous party out there. But her voice has a weird echo to it, and it doesn’t take long for me to decipher what’s going on. My boss was out partying and probably got a nasty message from Johnson about my behavior. Now, she’s likely in the women’s restroom, locked in a stall for the express purpose of bitching me out. Sure enough, her voice is frozen as she speaks.
“I received a call from your client tonight, Rose. Any idea what he said?” She speaks in a patronizing voice, as if belittling a dog who trailed toilet paper through the living room. I ignore her nasty tone and come clean.
“I’m sorry I walked out on my date tonight, Shannon. But he was such a prick! I couldn’t stand to sit there and allow him to degrade me any longer,” I confess, a slight pleading tone in my voice.
She’s ruthless.
“That is what they pay you for, Rose. What, do you think they pay for your scintillating conversation? For your witty comebacks? No, Rose. They pay you because you get dressed up in a tiny outfit and shake those ta-tas in their faces. Then, you listen to what they have to say and laugh appropriately. How dare you abandon one of our clients! Johnson is one of our best customers, Rose. You know how much I made off him last year? One. Hundred. Thousand. Dollars. And you! Now you’ve fucked it up!”
I go still, just listening. What can I say at this point? Meanwhile, Shannon continues.
“Not only that, but Johnson called to tell me that you’ve gained weight since your profile picture was taken. He said you’re chubby, if not straight-up fat, and showed up to the date in a cheap dress that literally had a ragged hem and a hole in it. What the hell, Rose? Have you completely lost your mind? This is a beauty-oriented industry where men want to be seen with a gorgeous girl on their arm. And you! You have Fucked. It. Up.”
I audibly gasp at this preposterous statement. I can’t believe this. Johnson is lying! There’s no way my appearance was messed up the way he’s describing. I try to stand up for myself.
“That is a lie! My dress, while not couture, was certainly flattering and clean. I always make sure I look presentable for our clients. And you of all people should know this – I’ve worked for you for four years without a single complaint up until now. Furthermore, while I certainly am a curvy girl with some generous assets, I’m not obese by any means! I take good care of myself!” I defend, choking back tears. “You surely don’t believe the word of an angry client over me, do you?”
I can almost hear Shannon’s sneer over the phone.
“You see Rose, this is what happens when girls get to comfortable in their jobs. They start to take liberties. An extra piece of cake tonight, re-wearing that old mini tomorrow. I have to nip this behavior in the bud before it gets out of hand.” Ugh. I can’t believe how nasty she is. She is actually taking Johnson’s side on this!
“If you weren’t such a good producer, you’d be fired immediately,” she says. “But as it is, I will keep you on. Probation, that is. You’ll only be receiving half of your usual fees for the next month or so.”
This is a real low blow. I feel like I have just been decked in the stomach. I am livid, but I have no choice but to suck it up to keep my job. After all, I can’t afford to lose my only source income.
Through clenched teeth, I try to sound sincere without letting the contempt I feel slip through.
“I’ll try to do better, Shannon.”
“Good,” my boss retorts in an arrogant manner before hanging up the phone.
I wipe my tears away and then video call Lucy to tell her about my night. Hopefully she can help me think of a way to get the capital I need to start my business. But I start to tear up again when my best friend’s face pops up on my phone screen.
“Rosie? What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Was it another bad date?” Lucy answers sympathetically. This time, thankfully, she doesn’t have a baby at her breast, so I let it all out.
“No, it’s not that. Well, it is,” I sob. “But it’s even worse.” Then I tell her everything, including my awful phone call with Shannon.
Without flinching, my friend responds with an immediate idea.
“Ask my dad,” she says.
“What?!” I respond, totally caught off guard. “What do you mean, ask your dad?”
My friend merely shrugs and smiles.
“For the money, of course. My dad has lots of it. I’m sure he’d be happy to invest in your business.”
I stop.
“That’s crazy Lucy, I can’t just go ask your dad for money.”
“Why not?” she asks with a smile. “Damon has the funds, so that’s a good start. Plus, you’re my best friend. He isn’t going to turn you away.”
I blink at her. “Yes, but it’s for an escorting agency. Won’t he be totally weirded out?”
Lucy shrugs, unconcerned.
“No, my dad already knows that you work as an escort. Remember? He knows I met my husband because I took over one of your escorting shifts, so the cat was out of the bag a long time ago. But don’t worry because Damon’s not squeamish or anything. If anything, he’ll respect the fact that you are taking the initiative to get your own gig going.”
I pause because there’s some truth to my friend’s words. It’s not like the fact that I escort is new. Again, Damon found out about what I do when he first caught Lucy and Shane together. After all, I was the one who was supposed to go out with the older man. But it worked out, and in time, Damon accepted Lucy and Shane’s union, proving that deep down, he’s not a judgmental person.
“I guess I could try asking him, if you really think he’d go for it,” I say, still feeling rather reluctant.
Lucy perks up. “Yes! Definitely ask Daddy, Rose. Tell him it was my idea. The worst that can happen is that he says no.” She has a point.
“Okay. I’ll call his office tomorrow.”
“Yay! I’ll text you his secretary’s direct line. I’m so excited for you!” she squeals. “I hear some banging sounds outside, so I’ve got to go and investigate what those blasted children are up to, but we’ll talk soon, okay?”
I chuckle my goodbyes as we hang up, and then set my phone down before settling back into my couch. Unbidden, my mind drifts to Damon Pratt, Lucy’s dad.
He’s a gorgeous older man with thick chestnut hair, brown eyes, and a sculpted body. I’ve always noticed him because what woman wouldn’t? Plus, if I’m being honest with myself, I’ve had a crush on him for years. But nothing’s ever happened because he’s my best friend’s father. Damon’s way older than me, more mature, with an incredible job, and godawful rich too. Come to think of it, there are probably women throwing themselves at him night and day. What are the chances he would notice me, a girl whom he probably considers “tainted” because of what I do?
Then again, I haven’t seen Damon in a while now. I wonder what he’s up to? But Lucy says that her dad could be interested, and she’s right. The worst that could happen is that he says no. I take a deep breath and decide to do it. Yes, I’ll ask Damon to invest in my business. I’ll give it a shot.
Then my mind wanders back to the alpha male. I can picture him clear as day in my mind’s eye. I see his sleek chestnut hair, and I think about what it would feel like to run my hands through those wavy strands. I imagine his intense gaze roving over my aroused curves. I see his bronzed skin and can’t help but wonder what it would feel like gently rubbing against my own, the ripples of his muscles pressing into the soft lines of my body.
I notice my nipples have grown hard just thinking about him, and gently, I undo my blouse before popping my tits from my bra cups. But instead of touching them, just for a moment, I stroke my collar bone, pretending it’s Damon touching me. Then I begin lightly gliding my fingers up the side of neck. Running one hand through my hair, I brush my opposite thumb over my bottom lip, and then slip two fingers into my mouth, gently sucking them.