I was surprised at how young and attractive the client looked. And $500?
No sex?!I typed back quickly to Leo, just to be sure, then stuffed my phone between the cavern of my boobs.There’s good use for these, at least.
My phone pinged again.
NO SEX! Just dress well and be professional.
Meaning, look dumb and sexy,I thought. Easy enough. The job wasn’t rocket science.
I walked over to my tiny closet and opened it; it took some effort to keep the closet closed. It was stuffed full of dresses, pantyhose, bras and glitter blouses. I spied the little black dress I’d found in one of the thrift stores.Perfect! I don’t even need a bra!
I walked out in the snug black dress paired with a pair of black stilettoes. I had a string of fake pearls around my throat, and crystal stud earrings matched the glass stones and crystals that were sewn onto my dress. The stones glittered in the reflection of the streetlights, and I noticed two of the gems were missing on the curve of my left breast.Fuck! I hope the client won’t notice this!I pulled my rich red hair to the front of my shoulder to cover it. I’d tamed the wild tumble of crimson curls with a straightening iron, and parted it in the middle so that it fell in two sleek curtains on either side of my face.No one will notice it. There’s going to be a lot of alcohol, for sure.I tugged my purse tighter and pulled my one-button faux fur coat closer around me.
Just a quick drink, fake smile, and I am home. I hope.
∞∞∞
Sasha Ramirez
I’d sat apprehensively for the duration of the ride, staring at the back of the silent driver’s head. It wasn’t Leo’s regular guy, and that worried me. Aside from an initial greeting, he had made no attempt to interact with me, and I felt my anxiety grow with every passing minute. By the time the limo had cruised to a halt outside the entrance to the club, there was a line that extended around the block. I glanced at my watch and pulled a face.
Great,I thought,7.25 p.m.I’d be stuck waiting outside for an hour at this rate. They couldn’t blame me for that, though. I hadn’t been the one to arrange the ride over.
A cool blast of air washed over me as the driver climbed out, and then he came around to open my door. Cautiously swinging my legs out of the vehicle, I took his arm as he helped me from the car and led me up to the front entrance where a pair of burly bouncers stood. One was ticking names off a list attached to a clipboard, while the other stood staring flatly at the crowd. Though his hands were clasped lightly in front of him, I had a sense he could be galvanized into action pretty fast if he needed to.
My driver stepped forward and murmured something in the ear of the guy with the clipboard. He glanced over at me appraisingly then gave a curt nod and unclipped one of the velvet ropes that cordoned off the front door. As if using some sort of unspoken language, the second big guy looked at the first, gave a nod, and then stepped aside to let me past, angling a slab-like hand beneath my elbow and guiding me through.
“Hey! How come she gets to go in?” A chorus of protests broke out behind me, and I felt the back of my neck burning as those still waiting in line expressed their dissatisfaction. I gritted my teeth and forged into the darkness beyond the door, hoping nobody would recognize me once we were all inside together.
“This way, miss,” I heard my escort say, and then his voice was lost in a cacophony of sound as we stepped over the threshold. I felt him step a little closer, shielding me from the hot press of bodies and fought back a little surge of panic. How on earth was I supposed to interact with a client in this place?
At the sight of the giant beside me, the crowd parted and we made our way past a dancefloor bathed in red flashing lights, over which a booth was suspended. Within it, a DJ was wildly toggling switches on a console, one hand pressed to where a pair of headphones clung lopsidedly to his head.
I stared around, wide-eyed, feeling a little overwhelmed by it all. This was certainly where the city’s pretty people partied. The bodies that gyrated were all sleek and well-groomed; lights flashed over bright white teeth and the whites of people’s eyes in a way that seemed otherworldly. I kept my coat clutched tightly around me, thankful that I hadn’t taken it off. It suddenly occurred to me that my thrift shop dress would stick out here like a sore thumb.
I held my breath, waiting to be handed over to some stranger at the bar, when the big guy took a sharp turn down a dark corridor, and then led me up a dimly lit flight of stairs. The carpet underfoot was thick and springy, speaking of high quality that seemed strange in a nightclub. At the top of the stairs, a doorway was illuminated by a red glow. My escort retrieved a keycard from his inside jacket pocket and swiped it across some unseen screen and the door swung open.
The relative silence within was almost like an enveloping cloud scented with sandalwood and cinnamon as he moved to let me past. Inside, several low tables were dotted about, all facing a giant picture window which gave views out over the dancefloor we’d just made our way through. Along one wall of the room, a huge couch extended, small tables set in front of it holding glasses; a group of people had settled into the plush upholstery. As we walked closer, my guide extended a muscled forearm and nodded.
“Mr. Andy,” he said, and a guy on the couch glanced up. I recognized the face from the photo in Leo’s message and I aimed a practiced grin at the man, which he answered with one of his own.
“Sasha?” he said, facing me as he got to his feet and reached out his hand. I nodded, taking his fingers awkwardly. Handshakes were not common forms of greeting in this game. “Have a seat, babe,” he said smoothly, nodding at the bouncer, who I noticed was still standing expectantly behind me. He glanced down at my shoulders, and I realized he was probably waiting for me to remove my coat.
I unbuttoned it reluctantly, trying to keep my chin high as I felt my sole defence being removed. Andy ran an eye over me, from the lush valley of my cleavage, down over my hips and my legs all the way to my feet, and then back up. He paused as his gaze trailed back over my bustline and when his eyes met mine, I knew he’d taken in the missing gemstones. One eyebrow was raised as he gave me a cool smile.
“Please…won’t you join us,” he said. Despite the dull base thump of the music below, in here, it was muted. Low, sinuous sax was playing, the sound unintrusive enough that he didn’t have to raise his voice to speak. It was a relief, although now the mayhem outside almost seemed less intimidating.
There were two other women on the couch, which I saw was covered in midnight blue velvet with dozens of crystal buttons giving it the look of a decadent chesterfield. I smiled at the women, noticing that their expressions weren’t welcoming. Judging from their outfits, I guessed they were like me, call girls out on the town in last season’s Prada. Sourced in thrift shops too, no doubt. Just like my little black dress.
Chapter 12
Sasha Ramirez
“Hey,” I murmured in greeting, trying not to toy with the frayed thread on the bodice where the stones were missing. One of the women, a brassy blonde, gave me a curt nod. The other stared at me in open hostility, flicking a black curl from her cheek as she looked pointedly away.
What the hell is going on?I wondered. In person, Andy even better looking than his picture, though in a slick, “rich boy” way that did nothing for me. Came from money, no doubt, I figured as I cast a furtive look to where he’d taken a seat, hiking up the hems of his trousers as he did so.Who does that?Aside from trust fund babies with daddies who were members of country clubs.
Maybe that’s his game,I decided. Rich boy wanting his own private orgy with a group of cheap hookers.You’re not a cheap hooker,I reminded myself firmly.No, you’re an expensive one,my train of thought continued.
