The escort

Susan's pov

The bar was dim as I sat on a stool, still wiping the tears from my face with the back of my hand.

My phone trembled in my grip as I typed a message to my lawyer. Three shot glasses were lined up in front of me, but each one was now empty.

I had been hoping that the burn of cheap tequila would burn away the memory of Ryan's betrayal, his words, and Christy's cruel laughter. But It hadn't.

Dead fish. Boring, Their Money bag, A Frigid bitch, with a defective pussy and a rusty cunt.

Those were the words they had used to describe me, and their words echoed in my skull like a drumbeat. Dead fish in bed. Not exciting, Can’t even cum.

I couldn’t believe Ryan had said those things about me.

I had given him everything. Two years of my life, my money, my trust. My body, which I had guarded so carefully, waiting for the right person, the only person. And this was what I got in return: mockery and betrayal.

The image of his naked body pounding into Christy was now seared into my mind like a brand, and the fury rose in my chest, until it was hot and suffocating.

I wanted revenge. I wanted to show him I was not a dead fish. I wanted him to know that he was the one who was terrible in bed. That I was not defective. That I could feel, I could cum. That I could give pleasure and receive it.

I had chosen to wait for the right person, and that choice did not make me broken.

I cried harder, my shoulders shaking, but the pain did not ease.

I wiped my eyes and looked around the bar through blurry eyes.

A few male escorts were scattered across the room, flirting with women, and trying to make the women take them to bed.

I watched them for a long moment, and a dark, furious thought resurfaced in my mind. Ryan was having sex with Christy in our bedroom right now. So why couldn't I do the same? With someone better? Someone who would actually make me feel alive?

I could finally prove to myself and to him that nothing was wrong with me.

My eyes swept the room again and realized that it would be really nice to have an escort.

I wanted to call one over and ask him to fuck me... but how much was I supposed pay? What if he hurt me? What if he was terrible in bed? What if I was truly a dead fish, and I felt nothing at all? What if the escort also hated sex with me?

Wouldn't that just break me beyond repair?

The insecurities flooded my mind with a sudden overwhelming wave of doubt that threatened to drown me.

And then, as if summoned by some cruel or kind fate, a man suddenly appeared beside me.

He was tall, dark-haired, with a deep voice that seemed to rumble from somewhere inside his chest.

Before I could process his appearance, his large hand landed on my back casually, as if it had always belonged there.

"Hello sweetheart," he said. "Do you want some company?" He rumbled and I immediately tensed up.

I looked up, and my breath caught in my throat.

He was the most handsome man I had ever seen in my freaking life! He literally looked like he had just walked straight off a magazine luxury cover. Early forties, perhaps, but age had only refined and sharpened his features, which deepened his sex appeal.

He was the kind of man I used to tape posters of on my bedroom walls as a teenager. The kind of man who starred in the strange, sexy dreams I used to have.

I glanced around at the other expensive looking escorts, and then noticed is luxurious clothes.

I instantly realized that he must be one of them. Though, he looked like he would be even more expensive to have sex with.

But with how gorgeous he looked, he would be worth every dime.

And just like that, I suddenly felt shy, flustered, and unsure of how to begin.

Should I ask how much he charged? Should I invite him to my room? Did he have a room? I opened my mouth, but only stammering came out.

The man smiled, as if he could read my mind, then his hand moved to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing my skin.

For some reason, the action made me I blush so hard I felt I might explode.

What the hell was wrong with me?... I wondered.

"Try again, sweetheart." he said softly. "What are you trying to say?"

I took a shaky breath. "Should we... go to your place? Or mine? Or do I need to book a hotel?"

His smirk was slow and knowing. "Right down to business, huh? Are you that eager?"

I blushed again and wanted to take it back immediately. I wanted to cancel everything and bolt out of there, But the man placed a hand on my arm, steadying me.

"It's fine," he said. "I have a place. You'll come with me." It was a statement, not a suggestion but I didn’t protest.

He showed me a key card, and it looked like the kind that opened a very expensive, very luxurious hotel room.

I stared at it, stunned, wondering how a mere sex worker could afford to pay for such a luxury.

‘He must charge a fortune.’ Was what I assumed, but I also realized I didn't care.

 If I didn't spend the money on him, Ryan would just spend it on Christy anyway. And this… the opportunity to have sex with this Greek god of a man was worth it. This would be the first orgasm from sex in my life, given by a man who actually knew what he was doing.

So Every dollar he charged would be worth it.

I nodded and took the card and he led me out of the bar, through the cold night air, into a hotel that gleamed with marble and gold.