AllFreeNovel
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Two months after Mandy let me in on her new source of income, we were trolling all the posh department stores together. I had gone through a weekend of interviews, tests, and sessions on etiquette. I worked with a ‘counselor,’ as they called them, to reconstruct my life (my story) and how to carry myself in a room of rich people. I needed a dress, but I also needed to be able to return it. After visiting Liberty of London and Dover Street shops, Mandy dragged me to Harrods because she knew first-hand that their return policy was lax. I would definitely need to return the dress I’d wear on Saturday night, so I was hoping like hell that we’d find a winner. The agency provided an upfront stipend, but I needed most of it for my school deposit for next semester.
“This will set you up, Rakell,” I heard Mandy say as I shrugged on another cocktail dress. We were in the high-endsection of Harrods, if that’s even a thing becauseallof Harrods is high-end. I’d only been in Harrods a few times before, with a couple of friends from uni, pretending we were ordering something from the food section but really getting samples to stop our growling bellies before we headed to the library to study. I dreamed of trying on beautiful dresses but always saw that as part of my future life once I got a big girl job. Now I was trying on dresses for Mandy, preparing for Saturday night when I would go on my first date as an escort.
Finally, Mandy convinced me to buy a bright blue strapless number that had a skinny, faux-diamond belt accenting the waist with rhinestones along the border of the bust. We added a cream wool coat, which I would also promptly return after the date. I couldn’t stop touching the coat; it was so soft and warm. It was almost Christmas, and London had taken on its winter layer of damp-cold that seemed to permeate through the sweatshirts and the old jacket I’d brought from home.
“Okay, now shoes and lingerie.” Mandy pulled me toward the elevator.
“Lingerie? I thought…”
Mandy’s hand shot up in the air. “Yes, so you feel pretty, sexy under that swanky cocktail dress. Lacy knickers are for us, not them; you walk a little slinkier with them. Tad more feline.” She strutted in front of me. “Take me. I’m wearing a matching La Perla set, blush and cream lace panties and bra, and I wasn’t planning a lesbian tryst with you today…well, unless you’re down for that, in which case…”
A burst of laughter leapt from my mouth. “I’m good, even if I am curious about your LaPerla,” I said, finishing my sentence with a French accent. I rubbed my pointer finger and thumb together. “Très, très luxuese. And how does one afford all this, plus the deposit for our new flat? I will pay you back for that, you know.”
“No worries, I know you’re good for it. I’m excited to move out from the ratty flat I share with five other girls. This one is nice, and since we are both earning money the same way, I trust living with you. Oh, and the La Perla pieces are a gift from a client,” she whispered, pushing the elevator button to the fifth floor, which promised a sea of designer pumps.
“A client, like one of your date dates?” I raised my eyebrows. “Is that allowed? I mean, from what I understood from the interviews, you can’t accept payment outside of the negotiated contract.”
A sheepish smile crossed her face. “Gifts are acceptable. Actually, I was told by another, more experienced escort never to turn down a gift. Men can’t handle that, especially wealthy men, because that’s where their power comes from.”
“Wow, so this date gifts you with lingerie?” I asked, stepping off the elevator.
“Even better. He set up an account at La Perla for me. Anything I want, I can purchase. So… after we get the pumps, we’re going there. I think you should get a pewter-colored shoe, or black so you can wear them again, because you won’t be able to take those back.”
“Then let’s go somewhere cheaper. Honestly, Mandy, my credit card is maxed out and I…”
“Listen, I’ll get the shoes, and the lingerie is on Peter.”
“Peter?”
“That’s his name. He’s a regular client. Every other weekend, he comes into town and insists on me as his escort. I think I’ll probably go to the next level with him. He’s been requesting me as his sole escort for the next six months, since he’ll be in town a lot for business. It’s a mint gig. I’ll have to go to Zurich again to re-train for the intimate part of this job,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “I wanted to tell the agency this girl needs no training on how to fuck or blow. I already have that mastered. I’m twenty,for Fuck’s sake. But apparently, they have specific training and standards.”
Mastered? How?
“Mandy, I thought you said you’d never…”
“Listen, break it down. Basically, it means I have a rich boyfriend for six months, and I don’t have to take on any other gigs.”
“Mandy…” I replied, my rising inflection sounding a bit too much like I was lecturing. I was concerned that she was crossing a line…didn’t she say that she wouldn’t go that far, or was that my own self-talk, because I knew I wouldn’t? “I’m just saying, I thought you took this job with the idea that you didn’t have to…”
“Enough!” she said, walking beside me as we browsed the shelves of shoes. “Look, it’s just like having a boyfriend who, of course, you’d be fucking anyway. So why not have a super-rich boyfriend who takes you to nice places and buys you pretty things? I’d rather sleep with a man like that than some bloke who’s barely got enough to stand you a pint.” She picked up a pair of patent leather steel gray stilettos. “Bingo, baby. These will look beautiful with the bright blue. Oh, and on your legs—wait, do you know if this guy is tall? What’s his name?”
“Scott. I don’t know. I saw a picture, but I can’t tell. He knows my height, so he isn’t going to be shocked that I’m tall or…fat…” I hushed out.
“Shut up! Along with those hips come awesome tits. I wish I had a little more of both.”God, I hated how thin women always said, ‘wish I had a little of that’…the key words being a little… There’s no way Mandy would want to trade her size four body for my fourteen.
Mandy’s voice lowered, taking a serious, almost sympathetic note. “Listen, don’t say that about yourself. This is all about projecting ‘demure confidence,’” she said, her fingers forming quotation marks.
I rolled my eyes. “Sounds like an oxymoron if I’ve ever heard one. So just how does one projectdemureconfidence?” I asked, exaggerating the worddemure, like this was 1900s England.What the hell was I doing?
“Rakell, it’s acting. Isn’t that why we’re here, basically getting a useless degree for the chance to act? Here’s your chance. He’s going to be bowled over by how stacked you are and how stunning your face is, especially after I have my way with your makeup. We are definitely going to go with a smoky-eye, and I’m thinking of a deep red lipstick."
I contorted my face as she mentioned makeup. I usually didn’t wear much at all.
She caught my look of distaste and stated, “Remember, you are playing a part. You are not Rakell, you’re Marietta. Okay? Now try on these Stuart Weitzmans.”
I sat down and slipped on the stilettos. I pushed myself off the bench, wobbling as I turned toward a laughing Mandy. “What?” I said, sneering at her, well aware that my circus act, walking like I was on stilts, was the cause of her giggles. “These are a no-go. I can’t even stand in them, much less walk.”
“Girl, you have a long way to go. Okay, let’s try to find some lower heels or maybe a delicate platform heel. Seriously, did you go to the prom or anything in high school?”
