 |
|
 |
 |
|
The Escort Service
by Toni Barca
Strange, but when I called them for an interview
they asked me to come in dressed for work.
So I wore an indigo teddy trimmed in black lace,
bathed my body in Miss Dior perfume,
and wore tight black jeans and a red silk blouse.
Winter in San Francisco brought high winds and so I threw on my red and tan reversible cape.
I showed up at the office and they laid down the rules.
They got 50% on every deal and you had to call them when you showed up at the gig.
That was for my own protection, they said.
We got a call in within an hour and I was sent out.
I arrived to an old Victorian house. The fog was thick.
I rang the doorbell and a tall college guy answered.
I walked in and was assaulted by the sight of 7 other college guys
all standing around, holding beer bottles, afraid to approach me.
The host explained that this was a bachelor's party and I was hired to fuck one of their friends in the bedroom. I told the host that I needed to call the office.
He showed me were the phone was.
On the table was a framed picture of the host's girlfriend, nice WASP blonde staring back at me.
I told them back at the office that there were 7 other guys and they told me to get out,
that I could get gang raped, that it was against their policy to send anyone to a situation with more than one client.
They gave me the address of a posh hotel and a room number and told me to get there ASAP & to call them.
I hung up the phone and told the host that I needed to leave and to please to call me a cab. He was a nice boy, still, one never knows.
He obliged and followed me out into the damp, dark night. I could hear the fog horns as I stood shivering. He tried to coax me back in the house. "We won't hurt you," he promised.
"Its just for my friend who is getting married tomorrow. We wanted to get him something special and you sure are special."
"What's your name?" he asked "Alexis," I lied.
He held my hand in his as if we were lovers and all I could think of was:
tall, good looking and well to do with a WASP girlfriend in a picture frame.
I got to the hotel, my red cape flying in the wild wind. The doorman held the door for me.
I wondered, "Does he know? Does he care?"
It was midnight, so the lobby was deserted, and the elevators took me straight up.
I found the room and stood examining the brass numbers on the door, then I knocked.
An average, blond man opened the door. He was Swedish. I told him that I needed to call the office. He sat on the edge of his bed and waited. When I hung up, he asked how much?
"300."
He asked if we took American Express Travelers Checks. I said yes.
He paid me.
I went to the bathroom, and buried the checks within the top of my teddy.
I peeled my jeans off and shook out of my blouse, placing everything neatly on a small chair.
I stood in front of the bathroom mirror and just stared at my eyes.
I came out and saw that he was nude beneath the hotel's snow-white sheets.
I straddled him. I felt the traveler's checks prick my breast.
I kissed his chest licking the furry hairs, trailing my tongue lower and lower.
"Yes," he groaned, as I wrapped my mouth around his smallness. He came swiftly.
"God! You professional girls are so good; no one else can make me feel so good."
The thought ran through my mind that he was my first john.
How strange that he would mistake me for a pro.
I called the office to tell them I was done. They told me to go to another address.
I went home instead. My lover tried to erase the john's touch, but it was too late.
No amount of lovemaking could erase that night.
"The Escort Service" is copyright © 2000 by Toni Barca. All Rights Reserved.
|
|
|
