My heart was pounding in a symphonic surge as I lingered in front of the hotel room door. I checked and rechecked the metal plate bolted to the rich, dark oak. Number 2412. Yes, this was definitely the right room. The hallway corridor was empty. The dimly lit sconces glowed invitingly along the richly textured walls. They had led the way from the elevator of the lushly swank boutique hotel, The Hazelton, just like beacon lights leading me towards the precipice of a decision I still wasn’t sure I was ready to make. I could already feel the beads of sweat, responsive to my unsettled nerves, prickling the back of my neck. I anxiously wiped them away, feeling the the tight pull of the ponytail I had been instructed to wear.
I rarely wore my hair in a ponytail outside of the gym or dance class, thinking it only made me look more childish. But it had been specially requested so I had pulled it into a long high blond mane, fastened with a leather tie. The bulk of it still hung past my shoulders and swung like a metronome against my back in rhythm to my quickly accelerating pulse, as I had walked the 4 blocks from the subway station to my destination. And now finally there, I could feel my knees clicking nervously together. Were my hands trembling too? I took a deep breath, recognizing that this was my last opportunity for second thoughts. Was I really ready to do this?
I thought back to earlier that morning, when I had been just another fresh faced college student, waking up after another night of partying with friends at the University Pub. I rolled out of bed, rubbing at my eyes, and started feeling the telltale beginnings of a hang-over headache. It was only when I had been rummaging in the cabinet for the Advil, and pouring myself a glass of ice water that I had noticed that Liana wasn’t home yet.
I had been sharing the apartment with Liana for the past two years and we had grown close, although we traveled in different social circles. I was still a student, and while Liana was the same age as me, she was definitely on a different life path. Liana modeled on occasion, and they were often dubious modeling projects. I had rarely seen anything credible in her portfolio to justify the depth of designer clothes, bags and shoes in her closet, or the way she spent money in cold hard cash as though it was in never-ending liquid supply. And indeed, the black lock box she kept in her bedroom always seemed to be full and was continually being replenished.
She had been very generous with me over the past two years. I was living the student life and dance training took up much of my spare time. What hours I had remaining, I had devoted to working as the hostess at the upscale lounge I was employed at, but those shifts were not nearly long enough and I was always teetering on the edge of being completely broke. Liana was accustomed to giving me loans while nodding to me with a wry smile.
“You’re wearing yourself down for nothing, Alison. Let me know when you want my help with some contacts. I know you will eventually. Why serve others at that bar that you work all night at when you can be the one being served, and be paid for it at the same time. It’s just a matter of time before you realize that it can be a gilded walk for girls like us. You’re just not taking advantage.”
Girls like us. It took me a while to understand what she meant by that statement. Certainly I felt like Liana and I had very little in common. She shopped at Barney’s and Bergdorf’s and I was still shopping at The Gap. She flew out on weekend getaways to Saint Tropez and Monte Carlo with wealthy and exotic men, while I spent my nights working long hour shifts and then meeting up with my high school boyfriend Seth for a last drink at the pub and clumsy sex that I was usually too exhausted to really enjoy.
Liana and I were nothing alike. But she had a beautiful kind of allure and charm that made her lifestyle seem more glamorous than seedy. Being an escort was very different than being a prostitute, she had explained one night over a bottle of wine. It wasn’t being a common whore, it was about being a smart business woman.
“Everywhere tonight, girls are getting drunk at bars and fucking pathetic strangers for free. They’ll wake up in the morning feeling far more cheap and used than I ever will when I wake up knowing I have nothing to do that day but count the green in my wallet.”
The way Liana spoke of her lifestyle was intoxicating to me on many evenings. It sounded so adventurous and exciting, and occasionally she almost talked me into wanting to try it for myself.
“Alison, you’re young, beautiful, and available. These are the years to set yourself up so you don’t have to rely on someone else. I mean look at Seth. Do you really think he’s going to be able to take care of you?”
It always hurt me when she criticized Seth. I hadn’t slept with very many men and I had been dating Seth since my junior year of high school. I knew Seth would never be a wealthy businessman, and our vacations would always be to Cancun and not the Riviera, but I did love him. He was the excuse I used to explain to Liana that I wasn’t interested in her kind of lifestyle. But sometimes, if I was really honest with myself, something within me longed to have a taste of the kind of luxuries that Liana indulged in.
My cell phone rang in the early afternoon while I was aimlessly surfing the net. It was Liana, and her voice sounded raspy and broken.
“Alison, I’m so wrecked. That appointment I had last night turned into an all-nighter. Fucking coke. I haven’t slept at all and I’m on this yacht and everyone’s passed out for the day. I’m trying to wake this fucker up, but he’s still snoring. I need your help.”
Liana often had nights like the one she had just described, but her strangled voice sounded more urgent this time.
“What is it?” I asked.
“You have to take my appointment this evening. It’s really important. He’s flown in from Munich on business. We’re talking about a multi-millionaire, Alison. It’s critical that I not let him down. I meet up with him every time he’s in town, and I don’t want to fuck up his schedule now looking for another girl. I don’t want to lose this contact.”
My mouth went dry. “Liana. You can’t be serious! I can’t just go turn a trick just like that! Why can’t you call your other escort friends?”
I could hear her sighing impatiently on the other end of the line. “Because my other escort friends will scoop his business from me, that’s why. Come on Alison, we’ve been talking about this for ages now. I’m telling you, this is your guy. He’ll be easy for you, I promise. He’s married, and he just like to fuck around when he’s traveling. He’s younger too, and he’s good looking. You’d probably even want to fuck him if you met him on your own.”
I could feel my mouth go dry at the rushed nature of her negotiations. Sure we had talked about it before, but now that the offer was on the table I was petrified. I thought of my boyfriend, my dignity, and my pride in making it on my own in an honest way. And yet looking at the bills stacked on my kitchen table, and the staggered shifts in my schedule, I felt an unexpected tug at my resolve.
“Alison…please. I swear I wouldn’t put you into a situation you couldn’t handle. It will be easy. It’s fucking $10,000 for a few hours! You can keep it all. I just need to keep my client. And it’s too late to cancel on him or make other plans. You have to do this for me. Just this one time.”
Eventually Liana’s pleading voice and rationalizations became more and more convincing. Before I had realized what had happened, she had talked me into it. She explained what I was to wear and what I was to do. She told me the name of the hotel and the hour I was to arrive. Midnight. The way she’d spun it made it sound dramatic and exciting, and I felt myself start to get wet in response to the adrenaline surge. In just one night I would have enough money to cover all my month’s bills and still have money left over. And it was just sex, as Liana had said. It wasn’t love. I looked away from the picture of Seth’s smiling face that I had tacked up on our fridge, feeling a swell of guilt. Liana had said it wasn’t cheating if it wasn’t love. It was a business transaction and nothing more. Her logic was loosely woven and irrational at best, but now having already agreed, I compelled myself to believe in it. And it was just this one time. Nobody would ever have to know.
I spent the next several hours getting ready for the appointment. I spent an extra long time in the shower, trying to drain the tension that was already creeping into my shoulders. I soaped my body, realizing that night I would be giving it over to a stranger to do with what he pleased for money. The idea of it turned me on. I had never cheated on Seth before. My body had known only him for the past 4 years. I wondered what it would feel like to have another pair of unknown hands on me and another cock inside me. The thrill of the idea in theory had my heart racing faster. The reality of it was quite another story. For all my fantasizing about Liana’s lifestyle, and her easy way of talking me into a scenario like this, I still wasn’t sure how I’d react in the moment.
That night I dressed carefully in the outfit she had suggested I wear. She had said this particular client, named Conrad, preferred his woman to be classy and meticulously groomed. Liana had told me not to dress like a common hooker walking into that hotel or I might not even make it past the security. She sent me into her closet to pick out one of her outfits to wear. I liked the idea of this because it helped to further remove myself from the world of being Alison. On that night, I would become someone else. Someone that was meant to fulfill the desires of a stranger… desires that were not my own. The separation of it in my mind helped keep me calm and resolute on following through with my promise.
I dressed in a very short tight black skirt and wore Liana’s 4 inch black Louboutin stilettos. My legs were long and toned from dance training, and the shoes made my tanned smooth legs look luxe. On top I wore a fitted white silk blouse, as the client had instructed with small pearl buttons. No padded bra, I had been told, and so I chose a sheer one that gave my breasts a natural shape and soft jiggle when I walked. My lips were painted red, and my hair was pulled up in a long high blond mane. The look was far more severe than anything I would ever have chosen on my own. Still, I wanted to please the client. And it helped transform my mind into seeing myself as someone other than who I really was.
These were the thoughts that were running through my head as I made my way to The Hazelton. I had several appreciative glances as I walked past the lobby bar, and strode authoritatively to the elevator. But now, as I stood in front of room 2412, my heart was hammering in my chest and I started wishing I’d had something stronger than the single shot of vodka I’d downed before leaving the apartment. This was my last chance to back out. And yet, how could I back out? Liana would be furious after I’d already committed. I’d look like an absolute coward. And she had already done so much for me with loaning me money when I was short on rent, and taking me along to swanky parties when she was invited. No, the time to back out had been six hours prior, and I’d neglected to take that opportunity. Suddenly, everything felt all wrong.
I had only instinctively started to back up when the door swung open on it’s own, and I gasped involuntarily at the unexpected reality of the transaction that had just begun. Standing in the doorway was a surprisingly good looking man that couldn’t have been more than 40 years old. He wore an inconspicuous white dress shirt and dark trousers but I could tell that he was all lean hard muscle beneath it. His hair was cut short, and his eyes were a steely yet piercing shade of blue and they seemed to look right through me.
“You are Alison, I presume?” he said, his eyes raking over me from head to toe in silent appraisal.
His good looks seemed to be offset by a kind of hard, dominant energy that he projected almost unintentionally, and I found something about it slightly unsettling. There was a confident purposefulness in the way he regarded me, almost lewdly, as though I was being served up on a platter for his salacious enjoyment. And indeed, perhaps I was. That was part of the bargain wasn’t it?
Realizing there was nowhere for me to go, I extended my hand to shake his. He just looked at it with amusement, obviously recognizing my nervousness and he let out a low laugh.
“No need for formalities. Come in.”
Embarrassed and uncertain, I walked on trembling legs into the highly modern and stylized hotel room. My heels clicked on the floor as he led me through the suite, presumably to the bedroom. My palms were sweating and I almost felt dizzy with a mixture of fear and excitement at what the next several hours might bring. The air conditioning was on high and I immediately felt my nipples constricting and rising up hard to poke obviously against the sheer silk of my blouse. I felt both exposed and aroused.
It was when we arrived at the main open concept bedroom suite that I stopped in mid-track. Someone else was there. A woman with short jet black hair and bangs was learning into a lounge chair near the bed with a bottle of champagne on a nearby table and a single glass that she was already sipping. She was older than Conrad, but had the looks of an ex-model, still extremely slender and willowy, and beautifully preserved. It was clear she was wealthy from her meticulously stylized image and the diamond jewelry that sparkled from well across the room. She had a feline coldness to her, however, and she regarded me with an amused kind of disdain.
“Another blonde Conrad?” she asked in a heavy intangible European accent. “Why am I am I not surprised.”
I became overtly alarmed. Liana had never mentioned there would be two of them and I started to look around the room, already calculating how I could back out of the arrangement.
“Well, what do you think of her Tamara… is she not to your liking?” Conrad asked, circling around me. He reached out and raked a finger up the back of my spine slowly, making me shiver at his touch. He ended the trail by flicking my ponytail and smiling at me with a cagey kind of hunger that set my nerves on edge.
“She looks just like the kind of little blonde whores you prefer most”, Tamara said with disdain. Her lips curled up in a twisted yet beautiful kind of smile.
I flinched. I had never been called a whore before. Anger and shame flamed through me instinctively, as I fought back my natural inclination to throw an insult back at her and turn on my heels and walk out. But in this situation she was right. I had willingly walked into this role. Suddenly, I began to consider what options I had in removing myself from it.
I tried to find my voice, and it faltered nervously. “Liana didn’t tell me of this arrangement,” I finally choked out. “She didn’t tell me there would be two.”
“Ah,” Conrad said standing back and clearly enjoying my nervousness. He left me standing uncertainly there, at the mercy of both of their scrutiny.
“I should introduce you to my wife Tamara then.”
The brunette tilted her champagne glass my way and then continued to sip it, without taking her eyes off me.
“The arrangement has not changed. Tamara is only here to supervise my pleasure. Not partake of it.”
My eyes widened in response, uncertain as to the kind of game they were playing. Perhaps it was her kink to watch her husband fuck another woman. Tamara’s expression seemed even more deviant than her husband’s. It seemed like she was challenging me, goading me, as though she knew something about me was not cut...
I rarely wore my hair in a ponytail outside of the gym or dance class, thinking it only made me look more childish. But it had been specially requested so I had pulled it into a long high blond mane, fastened with a leather tie. The bulk of it still hung past my shoulders and swung like a metronome against my back in rhythm to my quickly accelerating pulse, as I had walked the 4 blocks from the subway station to my destination. And now finally there, I could feel my knees clicking nervously together. Were my hands trembling too? I took a deep breath, recognizing that this was my last opportunity for second thoughts. Was I really ready to do this?
I thought back to earlier that morning, when I had been just another fresh faced college student, waking up after another night of partying with friends at the University Pub. I rolled out of bed, rubbing at my eyes, and started feeling the telltale beginnings of a hang-over headache. It was only when I had been rummaging in the cabinet for the Advil, and pouring myself a glass of ice water that I had noticed that Liana wasn’t home yet.
I had been sharing the apartment with Liana for the past two years and we had grown close, although we traveled in different social circles. I was still a student, and while Liana was the same age as me, she was definitely on a different life path. Liana modeled on occasion, and they were often dubious modeling projects. I had rarely seen anything credible in her portfolio to justify the depth of designer clothes, bags and shoes in her closet, or the way she spent money in cold hard cash as though it was in never-ending liquid supply. And indeed, the black lock box she kept in her bedroom always seemed to be full and was continually being replenished.
She had been very generous with me over the past two years. I was living the student life and dance training took up much of my spare time. What hours I had remaining, I had devoted to working as the hostess at the upscale lounge I was employed at, but those shifts were not nearly long enough and I was always teetering on the edge of being completely broke. Liana was accustomed to giving me loans while nodding to me with a wry smile.
“You’re wearing yourself down for nothing, Alison. Let me know when you want my help with some contacts. I know you will eventually. Why serve others at that bar that you work all night at when you can be the one being served, and be paid for it at the same time. It’s just a matter of time before you realize that it can be a gilded walk for girls like us. You’re just not taking advantage.”
Girls like us. It took me a while to understand what she meant by that statement. Certainly I felt like Liana and I had very little in common. She shopped at Barney’s and Bergdorf’s and I was still shopping at The Gap. She flew out on weekend getaways to Saint Tropez and Monte Carlo with wealthy and exotic men, while I spent my nights working long hour shifts and then meeting up with my high school boyfriend Seth for a last drink at the pub and clumsy sex that I was usually too exhausted to really enjoy.
Liana and I were nothing alike. But she had a beautiful kind of allure and charm that made her lifestyle seem more glamorous than seedy. Being an escort was very different than being a prostitute, she had explained one night over a bottle of wine. It wasn’t being a common whore, it was about being a smart business woman.
“Everywhere tonight, girls are getting drunk at bars and fucking pathetic strangers for free. They’ll wake up in the morning feeling far more cheap and used than I ever will when I wake up knowing I have nothing to do that day but count the green in my wallet.”
The way Liana spoke of her lifestyle was intoxicating to me on many evenings. It sounded so adventurous and exciting, and occasionally she almost talked me into wanting to try it for myself.
“Alison, you’re young, beautiful, and available. These are the years to set yourself up so you don’t have to rely on someone else. I mean look at Seth. Do you really think he’s going to be able to take care of you?”
It always hurt me when she criticized Seth. I hadn’t slept with very many men and I had been dating Seth since my junior year of high school. I knew Seth would never be a wealthy businessman, and our vacations would always be to Cancun and not the Riviera, but I did love him. He was the excuse I used to explain to Liana that I wasn’t interested in her kind of lifestyle. But sometimes, if I was really honest with myself, something within me longed to have a taste of the kind of luxuries that Liana indulged in.
My cell phone rang in the early afternoon while I was aimlessly surfing the net. It was Liana, and her voice sounded raspy and broken.
“Alison, I’m so wrecked. That appointment I had last night turned into an all-nighter. Fucking coke. I haven’t slept at all and I’m on this yacht and everyone’s passed out for the day. I’m trying to wake this fucker up, but he’s still snoring. I need your help.”
Liana often had nights like the one she had just described, but her strangled voice sounded more urgent this time.
“What is it?” I asked.
“You have to take my appointment this evening. It’s really important. He’s flown in from Munich on business. We’re talking about a multi-millionaire, Alison. It’s critical that I not let him down. I meet up with him every time he’s in town, and I don’t want to fuck up his schedule now looking for another girl. I don’t want to lose this contact.”
My mouth went dry. “Liana. You can’t be serious! I can’t just go turn a trick just like that! Why can’t you call your other escort friends?”
I could hear her sighing impatiently on the other end of the line. “Because my other escort friends will scoop his business from me, that’s why. Come on Alison, we’ve been talking about this for ages now. I’m telling you, this is your guy. He’ll be easy for you, I promise. He’s married, and he just like to fuck around when he’s traveling. He’s younger too, and he’s good looking. You’d probably even want to fuck him if you met him on your own.”
I could feel my mouth go dry at the rushed nature of her negotiations. Sure we had talked about it before, but now that the offer was on the table I was petrified. I thought of my boyfriend, my dignity, and my pride in making it on my own in an honest way. And yet looking at the bills stacked on my kitchen table, and the staggered shifts in my schedule, I felt an unexpected tug at my resolve.
“Alison…please. I swear I wouldn’t put you into a situation you couldn’t handle. It will be easy. It’s fucking $10,000 for a few hours! You can keep it all. I just need to keep my client. And it’s too late to cancel on him or make other plans. You have to do this for me. Just this one time.”
Eventually Liana’s pleading voice and rationalizations became more and more convincing. Before I had realized what had happened, she had talked me into it. She explained what I was to wear and what I was to do. She told me the name of the hotel and the hour I was to arrive. Midnight. The way she’d spun it made it sound dramatic and exciting, and I felt myself start to get wet in response to the adrenaline surge. In just one night I would have enough money to cover all my month’s bills and still have money left over. And it was just sex, as Liana had said. It wasn’t love. I looked away from the picture of Seth’s smiling face that I had tacked up on our fridge, feeling a swell of guilt. Liana had said it wasn’t cheating if it wasn’t love. It was a business transaction and nothing more. Her logic was loosely woven and irrational at best, but now having already agreed, I compelled myself to believe in it. And it was just this one time. Nobody would ever have to know.
I spent the next several hours getting ready for the appointment. I spent an extra long time in the shower, trying to drain the tension that was already creeping into my shoulders. I soaped my body, realizing that night I would be giving it over to a stranger to do with what he pleased for money. The idea of it turned me on. I had never cheated on Seth before. My body had known only him for the past 4 years. I wondered what it would feel like to have another pair of unknown hands on me and another cock inside me. The thrill of the idea in theory had my heart racing faster. The reality of it was quite another story. For all my fantasizing about Liana’s lifestyle, and her easy way of talking me into a scenario like this, I still wasn’t sure how I’d react in the moment.
That night I dressed carefully in the outfit she had suggested I wear. She had said this particular client, named Conrad, preferred his woman to be classy and meticulously groomed. Liana had told me not to dress like a common hooker walking into that hotel or I might not even make it past the security. She sent me into her closet to pick out one of her outfits to wear. I liked the idea of this because it helped to further remove myself from the world of being Alison. On that night, I would become someone else. Someone that was meant to fulfill the desires of a stranger… desires that were not my own. The separation of it in my mind helped keep me calm and resolute on following through with my promise.
I dressed in a very short tight black skirt and wore Liana’s 4 inch black Louboutin stilettos. My legs were long and toned from dance training, and the shoes made my tanned smooth legs look luxe. On top I wore a fitted white silk blouse, as the client had instructed with small pearl buttons. No padded bra, I had been told, and so I chose a sheer one that gave my breasts a natural shape and soft jiggle when I walked. My lips were painted red, and my hair was pulled up in a long high blond mane. The look was far more severe than anything I would ever have chosen on my own. Still, I wanted to please the client. And it helped transform my mind into seeing myself as someone other than who I really was.
These were the thoughts that were running through my head as I made my way to The Hazelton. I had several appreciative glances as I walked past the lobby bar, and strode authoritatively to the elevator. But now, as I stood in front of room 2412, my heart was hammering in my chest and I started wishing I’d had something stronger than the single shot of vodka I’d downed before leaving the apartment. This was my last chance to back out. And yet, how could I back out? Liana would be furious after I’d already committed. I’d look like an absolute coward. And she had already done so much for me with loaning me money when I was short on rent, and taking me along to swanky parties when she was invited. No, the time to back out had been six hours prior, and I’d neglected to take that opportunity. Suddenly, everything felt all wrong.
I had only instinctively started to back up when the door swung open on it’s own, and I gasped involuntarily at the unexpected reality of the transaction that had just begun. Standing in the doorway was a surprisingly good looking man that couldn’t have been more than 40 years old. He wore an inconspicuous white dress shirt and dark trousers but I could tell that he was all lean hard muscle beneath it. His hair was cut short, and his eyes were a steely yet piercing shade of blue and they seemed to look right through me.
“You are Alison, I presume?” he said, his eyes raking over me from head to toe in silent appraisal.
His good looks seemed to be offset by a kind of hard, dominant energy that he projected almost unintentionally, and I found something about it slightly unsettling. There was a confident purposefulness in the way he regarded me, almost lewdly, as though I was being served up on a platter for his salacious enjoyment. And indeed, perhaps I was. That was part of the bargain wasn’t it?
Realizing there was nowhere for me to go, I extended my hand to shake his. He just looked at it with amusement, obviously recognizing my nervousness and he let out a low laugh.
“No need for formalities. Come in.”
Embarrassed and uncertain, I walked on trembling legs into the highly modern and stylized hotel room. My heels clicked on the floor as he led me through the suite, presumably to the bedroom. My palms were sweating and I almost felt dizzy with a mixture of fear and excitement at what the next several hours might bring. The air conditioning was on high and I immediately felt my nipples constricting and rising up hard to poke obviously against the sheer silk of my blouse. I felt both exposed and aroused.
It was when we arrived at the main open concept bedroom suite that I stopped in mid-track. Someone else was there. A woman with short jet black hair and bangs was learning into a lounge chair near the bed with a bottle of champagne on a nearby table and a single glass that she was already sipping. She was older than Conrad, but had the looks of an ex-model, still extremely slender and willowy, and beautifully preserved. It was clear she was wealthy from her meticulously stylized image and the diamond jewelry that sparkled from well across the room. She had a feline coldness to her, however, and she regarded me with an amused kind of disdain.
“Another blonde Conrad?” she asked in a heavy intangible European accent. “Why am I am I not surprised.”
I became overtly alarmed. Liana had never mentioned there would be two of them and I started to look around the room, already calculating how I could back out of the arrangement.
“Well, what do you think of her Tamara… is she not to your liking?” Conrad asked, circling around me. He reached out and raked a finger up the back of my spine slowly, making me shiver at his touch. He ended the trail by flicking my ponytail and smiling at me with a cagey kind of hunger that set my nerves on edge.
“She looks just like the kind of little blonde whores you prefer most”, Tamara said with disdain. Her lips curled up in a twisted yet beautiful kind of smile.
I flinched. I had never been called a whore before. Anger and shame flamed through me instinctively, as I fought back my natural inclination to throw an insult back at her and turn on my heels and walk out. But in this situation she was right. I had willingly walked into this role. Suddenly, I began to consider what options I had in removing myself from it.
I tried to find my voice, and it faltered nervously. “Liana didn’t tell me of this arrangement,” I finally choked out. “She didn’t tell me there would be two.”
“Ah,” Conrad said standing back and clearly enjoying my nervousness. He left me standing uncertainly there, at the mercy of both of their scrutiny.
“I should introduce you to my wife Tamara then.”
The brunette tilted her champagne glass my way and then continued to sip it, without taking her eyes off me.
“The arrangement has not changed. Tamara is only here to supervise my pleasure. Not partake of it.”
My eyes widened in response, uncertain as to the kind of game they were playing. Perhaps it was her kink to watch her husband fuck another woman. Tamara’s expression seemed even more deviant than her husband’s. It seemed like she was challenging me, goading me, as though she knew something about me was not cut...
