Eight. Thousand. Fucking. Dollars.
For a high priced booty call.
As I step out of the car, I can't help but wonder how much Madam Christine is making off me.
Exhaling a deep breath, I enter the hotel and walk through the building, keeping my focus straight ahead to the elevator. There’s no wait and I get on and take it all the way to the top floor, where my John is waiting at the rooftop bar.
The elevator dings and Natalie’s parting advice to be confident, to act like I own the place, filters through my mind. I put on my best sexy, come-hither face, even though I'm shaking like a leaf inside and my stomach is tensing up, despite my pre-show cocktail.
There's a doorman right when I step out and he asks for my name.
"Au—Valentina."
Fuck. I already made one mistake. He doesn't seem to notice it. Unbuckling the belt, I hand him my new Burberry coat and look down at my attire. A little black dress works for every occasion. Except mine is strapless, shapes to my body, and has a chiffon bow at the center of my breasts. Even I can admit I look like sex on a stick in this dress. Let's hope he's a boob guy because I've got these babies on full display just for him. Everything Natalie put together for me makes me feel beautiful with a hint of seduction. Not too trashy, just enough to get the job done. She said I'm a walking wet dream, and at the moment, I kind of feel like it.
Holding my clutch, I push forward and step outside into a private oasis that doesn’t seem to fit in the middle of the city. Rat pack music is playing and I can feel the bass vibrating through my body. The music isn’t loud, but it's enough to drown out the busy city below.
I feel at least eight pairs of eyes on me as I walk slowly, looking at each one of the men, trying to find my John. When I talk to Madam Christine tomorrow, I'm going to see if she can give me a description for my next job so I don't feel completely blind.
My heart is about to pump out of my chest when a man rises from his seat and walks toward me. This just got one hundred percent real and I feel like I'm going to throw up.
Cue the fucking nerves. I'm rooted in place. Swallowing hard, I nervously bite my lip, unintentionally looking a little innocent and seductive at the same time, but he seems to like it as his eyes flicker with lust. The man has to be in his fifties and he screams old money. He's not attractive, but he’s not horrible either.
"Relax," he whispers into my ear as he takes my hand and pulls me into a tender embrace.
I nod and try to steady my heart. I need to remember that he’s a test John and that Christine has eyes everywhere.
"You look beautiful," he says, and kisses my cheek.
I pull back but keep my hands on him, and peer up through heavy black lashes that only multiple coats of mascara can give. "Thank you," I reply sweetly. "You look pretty handsome yourself." I have no idea what possesses me to say that, but I guess I should show interest, right?
He guides me to where he was sitting and takes a seat. We're side by side, our knees almost touching. My dress rises up a little. It's just enough to entice, which he seems to like. Outside if this escort life, I do love the attention of men, and I do like seeing desire in a man's eyes, so seeing his lust helps a little. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
His heated gaze travels the length of my legs, and then lingers. I may have only just started doing Pilates, but I’ve always thought I have nice legs, and the four-inch heels just add to the appeal.
"Would you like a drink?" he asks.
"Sprite and tequila, please."
He places our order, getting a scotch for himself.
"Have you ever been here before?" he asks.
I glance around the swanky outdoor lounge. "Can't say I have. I didn't expect it to be so relaxed or inviting. Do you come here often?" I realize my question makes it sound like I asked if he brings escorts here often. I quickly rephrase my words. "It's a perfect place to unwind after work."
Jesus Christ! I'm dying inside with nerves. Where's my fucking drink?
He tilts his head to the side. "It's actually the only place I enjoy coming to after work. Tell me, what do you do?"
A test question. I eye him and go with the first thing that pops into my head.
"I'm a preschool teacher."
His eyes lower and I swear I hear him growl. I decide from here on out that's my job…well, my job within a job. The last thing I ever want to be is a teacher, so it works perfectly.
His weathered eyes flicker again, this time with hunger, and I have him pegged. He likes his girls looking innocent and young. Perfect.
Our drinks are finally brought over and I just want to suck mine down, but I wait for him to take the first sip before even touching my glass. I have to take it slow anyway since I already had two shots.
"You love children?"
I shake my head. "Not really," I joke, and he laughs.
That makes me feel good. I shift to look around, wondering if anyone knows what I’m doing here, but he stops me.
"No."
My eyes snap to his.
"Your eyes stay on me," he says in a harsh, low voice, and for a second everything inside of me freezes. "Do not look at anyone else. You're here with me."
I lick my red lips, and his gaze falls, following the motion. "You're all I see," I say. It's not my best line, but short and simple seems to work.
We make useless conversation until we finish our drinks, and the next thing I know, he takes my hand in his as we walk to retrieve our coats from the doorman and head straight to the elevator.
He's on me before the elevator doors even close and it freaks me the fuck out. We fall into the corner and I hit my head against the wall. He doesn't seem to notice as he grabs my breasts and gives them a painful pinch. I whimper, taking it. My breathing labors and my clenched hands find his shoulders. I'm stiff but trying to go with it like a virgin on prom night. He sinks his teeth into the curve of my neck and I tense up again, while his other hand brazenly reaches under my dress and cups my pussy to the point of pain. I almost grunt. Instead, I grit my teeth and wonder how we're going to have sex when I'm as dry as sandpaper and quivering inside.
"Fucking wet, just like a real whore should be." His tone is filled with malevolence and he’s not at all the pleasant guy I was having a drink with outside seconds ago.
I frown at his statement, then remember Natalie had me use coconut oil as a lubricant before I left, and some of my anxiety eases.
Treat him as a one-night stand.
He's all over me, putting his full, suffocating weight on me. The elevator doors open and then we're power walking to his hotel room. Thank God I know how to walk in heels and I'm not tripping over my feet. The closer we get to the door, the more anxiety grows in my stomach. I push it down and tell myself this will all be over soon. This has to be a part of the process. Right? I can’t imagine anyone selling their body for money is comfortable with it the first time…or first few times.
Eight thousand dollars. You’re going to make eight thousand dollars.
We're in his room faster than I can blink, and before the door can even shut, he shoves me against the wall. My head smacks it and I reach up to grab it. I'm going to end up with a fucking concussion before the night’s over. His mouth is on mine and all I taste is menthol cigarettes, which is funny because outside I could only smell the kerosene from the lanterns.
He's mauling me, and I can't seem to get a good handle on things as he takes control in a sloppy manner. He yanks the top of my dress down and my breasts spill out. Cool air breezes over them and something inside me wakes up when he roughly grabs my bare flesh. My stomach hardens. He twists my nipples past the point of pleasure and I smack his hands away. Taking a deep breath, I use force and push him off me, but I don't do it like I'm disgusted, even though I am. I do it as if I'm so sexually frustrated that I can't even bear foreplay. I act as if I need his cock inside of me right now, this second…
And it does the trick.
I can play this game too
, asshole.
He pulls back and glares at me as if he’s offended, but I move quickly and shove him against the wall. I slip my hands into the front of his pants, and finding his cock already hard, I give it a squeeze and slowly jerk him off. If I can find a little control, I think I'll be okay. He’s average-sized, which instantly calms me because I know he won't hurt me. I've had bigger.
Leaning into his body, I bite the side of his neck the way he did me.
"Hard for me already, baby?" I say, my voice that of a kitten purring.
He pushes me back hard, and this time I almost stumble in my heels.
"Get on your knees and suck me off, you slut."
I'm not really into the whole degradation talk. It's not my style. Being called names like slut, whore, or skank have never turned me on.
But for eight thousand dollars it can.
He shoves me down to my knees and I unbuckle his pants to free his erection. My hands shake a little and I hope he doesn't notice.
I put my hand out. "Condom, big daddy."
I want to die over my choice of words. Not from humiliation, but because I've never spoken to a man like this before and I find it comical and embarrassing for him. But of course, I don't show that.
He slaps a condom in my hand, because no fucking way am I giving him a blowjob without protection. I roll it on him. He's not even in my mouth for three seconds before his meaty hands find the back of my head and he's ramming his dick down my throat. I have the strongest urge to bite down because of how he's acting, but I really don't want a swift kick to my face. He's pumping his hips obnoxiously fast and grunting, yelling obscenities about how I'm his dirty little skank who better suck him harder. My eyes start watering. Thank God my gag reflex is on point.
Yeah, this isn't going to work.
I pull back so he pops out of my mouth and fix my hair so I can peer up at him. I start stroking him, twisting my wrist.
"Let me show you how good I can be," I say, my voice husky and seductive. "Let me satisfy you, baby." His intense stare disturbs me, but I show no fear, stroking him hard and slow. He gives me the slightest green light and I lean in, making it my mission to give him the best blow job he's ever had.
It doesn't take long before his body is pliant and soft and he's feeling everything my tongue has to offer. He starts moaning and slowly moves his hips in conjunction with my mouth. His heavy sack in the palm of my hand is tightening up. Just when I think he's about to come, he pulls me back gently and looks down. My lips are swollen as I look up at him. Eyes glossy, he's either on drugs or he loves what I'm doing to him.
"Take your clothes off," he says, panting for breath. "I want you back on your knees. Spread your legs and arch your ass back so I can see that filthy pussy in the mirror while you deep throat my cock. Then I'm going to fuck you like the good little slut that you are."
So much for weaseling my way out of having sex on the first night.
Nineteen
I don't take a town car to Sanctuary Cove. Instead, I walk the couple of blocks to clear my mind, wondering if people will know what I’ve done when I stop in front of the doors.
I didn’t get a chance to follow up with Natalie last night when I got home. It was well after midnight and she was already asleep, so I took a shower, scrubbing my body until it was bright red, and then I crashed. She sent me a few text messages earlier when I was in class, but I couldn’t respond. I know she’s dying to know what happened and I’m kind of eager to tell her all about my first night as a professional hooker. I still can't believe what happened myself and I need to talk my feelings out.
I send Nat a quick text to meet me for dinner at a little Mediterranean place we like, then I steady myself before ringing the doorbell.
Shooting a glance over my shoulder to see if anyone is watching, I make eye contact with an older woman who looks to be in her sixties slouching against a brick building. Her coat is stained, and she’s surrounded by tied white plastic bags that probably contain her entire life. The dejectedness in her gray gaze is unsettling and I have to turn away. She could easily be my grammy. One social security check short, and Grammy could be out on the street. No. I would never let that happen. That's why I'm here. For her, and for me.
The same doorman from last time welcomes me in. He dips his chin in acknowledgment and takes me straight to Christine’s office. Another lavish room that looks fresh out of an issue of Vogue. She's sitting behind a desk going over paperwork when she glances up. Our eyes meet and I'm reminded of what happened the last time I was at Sanctuary Cove. Heat flames my cheeks. I'm a little tingly thinking about my first full girl-on-girl sex. I can tell she's thinking about it too by the way her lusty eyes rake down the length of my body.
I'm so confused. I love how she looks at me even though it feels wrong that I do.
I know I'm not dressed in Sanctuary Cove attire, but I was just in school for six hours, and the distressed jeans and cropped I HEART NEW YORK sweater work for me right now. My hair is in a cute ponytail, and I only have a touch of makeup on, making me look more natural than anything.
The corner of her mouth curves just slightly, causing a flutter in my stomach.
"Valentina, it's a pleasure to see you," she says, her voice silky. She gestures toward a chair with her hand. "Take a seat."
"Hi," I say, a little shy. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to address her as Madam Christine or just Christine.
"So, you're a preschool teacher."
I pale. Not a question, but rather a statement, and it makes me edgy. She doesn't seem bothered by it, but she isn't amused either, so I can't tell if I'm in trouble or not.
Swallowing, I hide my panic and offer a timid smile. "It was the first thing that came to mind and something I’d never, ever do, so I figured it would be okay. I don’t even want kids."
"Of course. It's good to have a cover ready when you're asked questions."
"I can change it if you like. I can be a pastry chef, or a florist. Whatever you like."
She shakes her head. "It's not necessary. Were you nervous?"
"Yes, very."
"Once you start doing more jobs it'll get easier, if that's what you want," she says, never breaking eye contact. She doesn’t even blink.
I nod. "Yes."
I feel like I'm under a spotlight. Trying to remain collected is proving to be harder than expected.
Christine reaches into her desk and pulls out what looks like a prescription bottle. She gives it a little shake, then hands it to me. There's no label, no instructions, but then why would there be? It's clearly not from a doctor.
"Take one an hour before each job."
I reach for the see-through orange bottle. "What is it?"
"Percocet. Natalia said she gave you one, but I think you need a stronger dose until you're more comfortable. If you run out, just ask me for more."
My gut tells me there's more to what she's saying than she’s letting on. I can't help but wonder if the test John had complained.
"Did I do something wrong?" I ask quietly.
Her lips purse together, eyes flashing with the hidden truth. "No, but I don't want my girls to act like amateurs. You've fucked plenty of men. You shouldn't tremble when you're touched or grunt like an animal. Men pay a lot of money to be a member of Sanctuary Cove, Valentina. They want seasoned women." Her gaze drops with her voice. "Act like you fucking love it, even if his dick is small and you can't tell if he's inside you or not. Make him feel like a king, like you’re giving him the best sex of his life. Do not moan like a porn star. Remember how you moaned and whimpered under me? That’s how it should be for the client. If you have to imagine my tongue on your pussy, then so be it."
I flush and glance down. My body warms, and I'm instantly hot in my sweater. I knew she wasn't happy with me. I sensed it, but all I can do is nod.
I did shake, I was nervous, and I may have sounded a little off last night. I guess I was focusing on what I was supposed to do and how I was going to i
mpress him that I didn't realize it would backfire on me. I didn't know if I should make noise or not. I didn't know if I should let him do what he wanted or if I should take control, if I should show interest. I’d simply viewed it as my first night on the job and tried to learn as much as I could on the fly.
"I understand. It won't happen again."
Her eyes are blazing. A weak person would cower, but I steel myself, forcing an unwavering gaze back at her.
"I don't give a lot of chances."
"I like a good challenge."
Something flashes across her face as she slides an envelope across her desk toward me. She keeps her French manicured nails on it to keep me from grabbing it.
"Do not deposit that into a bank account all at once. A little at time, or try to pay cash for anything you need. Some girls open offshore accounts, and that's something you can look into if you should need to." She let's go and sits back.
"Thank you," I say, then slip it into my bag. The envelope doesn't feel as thick as I assumed it would, but I can't wait to count it. I won't be able to until I get home, though. Flashing money like this in New York City is a sure way to get mugged.
Christine hasn't taken her eyes off me. "How many days a week do you want to work?"
"I'll take whatever you want to give me. Weekends I'm free for anything at any time. The weekdays will have to be evenings."
"Are you willing to travel?"
I consider her question. "I don't see why not, if it doesn’t interfere with my classes. Is that a common thing?"
She doesn't answer me. "I'll text you with your next job. Do you have any questions?"
"No," I say and stand. "Thank you for the second chance. You won’t be sorry."
Right before I leave, she calls my name, and I look over my shoulder.
"He did say you can suck cock better than anyone else here. Trust me, he’s been with most of the girls, so that's a compliment." Her lips twitch. She seems proud.
At least I’d done something right.
Before I jump back on the subway, I stop at this little Dominican place and order the most popular dish on their menu to go. I pay for it and walk outside, and hand the Styrofoam container to the woman sitting in the same place as before, along with a crisp hundred dollar bill. So many people go hungry in this city and my heart bleeds for them.
Hush, Hush Page 11