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"Men are fucking creeps."
"Eh. Doesn't bother me. I just want their money. We all have our fixes."
I shake my head and let out a breath. I really want that money too, but I don't think anal bleaching or waxing my ass is necessary to get it. Then again, I guess we'll see. I've come this far, so who knows what I'll agree to next.
After my facial and mani-pedi, we stop at a bar for a drink before heading to the apartment. I haven't been out since my birthday, and now that I'm legal, I don't have to use my fake ID. We both have school work waiting for us at home, but we decide to stay for no more than an hour.
"Why are you walking like that?" Natalie asks, laughing, as we walk down the street. "You look like you went horseback riding bareback style, all bow legged and shit."
I roll my eyes at her and laugh. My walk isn’t that exaggerated, but I definitely don’t walk like I’m about to take the runway either. I'm still panty free, and even though it's chillier than before, it feels good against my bleeding, fiery privates. Metaphorically speaking, of course.
"It feels like I did," I say and open the door to the bar.
We order our drinks—gin and tonic for Natalie, Sprite and tequila for me—and find a quiet booth in the back. I can't cross my legs without it feeling uncomfortable, but after a few sips, the alcohol coats my veins and dulls the pain.
"I'm not supposed to tell you this because it's a test—I wish someone had told me—but Madam Christine is going to assign some test Johns to you."
My brows bunch together. "What does that mean?"
"You’re going to get some guys who are going to be extremely aggressive and come on to you hard. They're going to put heavy moves on you and provoke you," Natalie warns me. "It's a test to see if you can handle yourself and the clients. There's no saying how many you're going to have, but you'll know when Christine’s done testing you."
I take another sip and let her words sink in. "How will I know which is fake and which is real?"
"I would expect at least two, but I've heard she's sent up to five. I think that's her max."
I take a sip and let her words sink in. "Are they going to be violent?"
"No," she says, and I feel a little relieved. "Madam Christine doesn’t stand for violence. She always does an in-depth background check on all members before she lets them near any of her girls, and she runs follow-up checks every three months, so don't ever worry. She makes sure it’s a safe environment for everyone."
I was already uneasy about this secret world of high-end escorting, but now I'm wondering if I should sign up for self-defense classes.
"It's not as bad as you think. You're going to be nervous as hell thinking they're all test Johns until you find your way. Just don't take too long. She's quick to fire girls, too."
I take a long sip. "No pressure, right?"
"You got it. That's why you take two shots and a Percocet before you go and pretend you own them, unless you're hired to be a sub and say, ‘No, Daddy.' That's a different story."
I almost choke on my drink stifling my laughter. "You've had to do that?"
"Once. He had a wicked fetish and made me use a pacifier, but I got ten thousand out of it, so who cares?"
My eyes widen. I can't fathom that kind of money.
I glance around the dimly lit bar wondering if any of these white-collared men have daddy dom fetishes. It could be anyone, really, and I'd never know.
"How long were you with him?"
"I think it was like three hours. Can't remember, but half the time they take Viagra if it's longer than an hour just to make sure they get their money’s worth. Oh! And here's a tip—before you go on any appointment, use spearmint spray to relax your gag reflex and coat your goods in coconut oil for easy access. Both make a huge difference, unless of course he's got a small dick. If that’s the case, you lick it like a Dum Dums lollipop and pretend he's got an anaconda hanging between his legs. No working girl wants a big dick. It's too much work and requires hazard pay. I'll make sure you have some travel sizes for your purse too. Give a great blow job and you got a client for life, er, ah, for however long you want, I guess." She makes a face when she realizes this should never be lifelong work.
"Tricks of the trade, huh?" I say, finishing off my drink.
She laughs and her eyes light up. "Girl, I’ve got enough to write a book."
Seventeen
My phone vibrates in my lap and I glance around the auditorium to see if anyone else noticed it. I'm in the middle of class and don't want to offend the professor.
Swiping the screen open, I read a text message from Natalie. She wants to meet for shopping after class, but since I still have another class after this one, I let her know I'll see her in about three hours. The one thing I won't do is sacrifice my education for anything. Say the escorting works out for a couple of years and I get ahead financially, it won't last forever the way a degree will. I need to play my cards right so I don't fuck myself in the end.
