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“I’ve been thinking about joining City Girls,” I confirm in a slow voice, referring to her escort agency.
“They definitely have a clientele that appreciates pregnant women,” she says. “You know that’s how I met my husband.”
I nod.
“I know. It’s just I never thought that I’d be working for City Girls myself.”
“I know,” Christine says in a soothing tone. “No one does. I never thought it would happen to me either, but it did, and it wasn’t so bad. In fact, I really liked it, and City Girls is how I met Damon and got this little guy here,” she says, jiggling Jeremiah in her arms. “So it can work out.”
I nod.
“I know, it’s just… well, I have to think about it more, that’s all.”
Christine nods.
“Totally understandable, and girl, just let me know if you have any questions because I’ve been in your shoes before. Remember, there’s a giant premium for pregnant women, so that’s something, and it’s uber-lucrative, reasonably safe, and could be well worth it, all things considered.”
I nod slowly.
“I know,” I say in a soft voice. “I’m still thinking, but I’m probably going to do it.”
My friend merely smiles gently.
“I’m here for you, Han, no matter what you decide. Just let me know, okay? I have to go now, but talk later? I have to put the baby on the boob,” she apologizes.
I laugh.
“Of course. Bye Jeremiah! Love you!” I say with a little finger wave before clicking off. Then I sit in the silence of my apartment, lost in thought. To be honest, I’m a little excited at the thought of becoming an escort. It’s so unseemly because I literally work with families and children in my real life. But that’s the thing – I’m so sick of being nice, boring, and respectable Hannah Jones, who’s totally predictable without a single sassy bone in her body. Plus, my life has been thrown off track by this pregnancy, so why not take this left turn? It would be a good chance to expand my boundaries while making some serious cash. And according to Christine, the clients are handsome and kind, so all the better.
Besides, I muse while sitting back down on the couch once more, I’ve been super-horny since getting pregnant and with no man on the horizon, it’s been tough. With a quiet giggle, I reach beneath the cushion to retrieve a dildo that’s become my best friend of late, before popping it in my mouth to lube it up. Then, I squirm out of my panties, wishing that the toy could be the real thing. What would it be like, to have a handsome, hung man with me now? One who appreciates a lush, pregnant female form? Well, maybe City Girls can deliver, and then my bottom line will be satisfied in more ways than one.
2
Rick
As the town car pulls up in front of our destination, I down the rest of my whiskey in a single gulp. It burns rushing down my gullet but I rather like the fiery sensation.
“Liquid courage?” My friend Cade cocks an eyebrow as he eyes my now empty glass.
“Fuck you,” I growl. “I’m not about to let good whiskey go to waste.”
“It’s just one bottle bro,” Cade points out. “You could buy one a day for the rest of your life and still be a billionaire.”
I shake my head. “That’s not the point, and you know it.
Cade merely shrugs, his brilliant white teeth shining in the dark car. “It’s fine to be nervous,” he says in a sing-song voice. “I won’t make fun of you, big boy.”
I roll my eyes.
“Seriously, you’re such a fucking prick.”
He shrugs again.
“Whatevs. Come on, we’re here,” he says before jumping out of the vehicle. I step out as well and glance up at a corporate-looking building, totally indistinguishable from any other behemoth in Manhattan.
“This is where City Girls is located?” I ask in a puzzled voice. “Seriously?”
Cade shrugs.
“Guess so. Why, were you expecting a bordello with an old gypsy out front?”
I shrug as we make our way to the entrance.
“I don’t know, but I know I didn’t expect this.”
After all, this place looks extremely ordinary, and it’s hard to imagine that borderline illegal activity goes on inside. But then again, I suppose that’s the best disguise: to be out in the open, like you have nothing to hide.
“You ready?” Cade asks as we step into the marble lobby. A receptionist nods at us, and directs us to a bank of gleaming elevators. We make our way across the airy space and wait until the chime dings, the doors sliding open with a soft hiss.
“I swear to God we could be in any number of Wall Street offices right now,” I mutter.
My buddy hears and just shrugs.
“Nobody cares about the building. We only care about the girls,” he says in an off-hand tone. “At least I know that’s all I care about. We could be in a dump, and I wouldn’t blink.”
