Chapter 2

As I rode the elevator to the penthouse of the exclusive hotel Furtan —it’d taken two people to help me get to the last floor of the hotel .—I chewed on a fingernail remembering it cost a lot to get them done. I stopped.

Was I really about to let some strange man have sex with me? For money?

The elevator arrived too quickly, forcing me onto a private hallway with an elegant sitting area. An open newspaper lay on a coffee table, as if someone had recently left.

The entry was just in front of me . Could I bring myself to ring the bell?

Apparently, this penthouse was one of the largest and the most expensive (thirty-two thousand —a night) in Miami, Florida. Who in their right mind would spend that much money on a hotel? Clearly my first client was loco (crazy).

I did not know much about them except the fact that he was a Russian businessman and he had been vouched for by another escort organization. He used escorts a lot because of his tastes. So he was an expert in escorts.

As I was about to change my mind, I immediately pulled out my phone and called my friend. I was taking her place to do this because she had a reaction on her lip to some new lip plumping make-up she used that has some sort of oil in it.

I was her cleaner which she called a waste of good looks and teddy eyes. After proposing to me that I could make more than a million dollars a night.

Her phone rang for a few seconds before she answered, I said, “I don’t think I can do this.” I began to pace the hallway, my stilettos silent on the fluffy rug.

“Of course you can. You don’t understand how badly I wish I could be there. If this man is renting the penthouse for a week, imagine how rich he is!”

The Russian had booked Danielle, but she couldn't come(she was only twenty five, I was twenty- two). She’d thought she’d be okay by tonight, so she hadn’t called to cancel. A big no for escorts.

“If my eyes weren’t swollen shut and my lips weren't like I had excessive lip fillers injected into them I would be there,” She rambled on.

Immediately I agreed she had gotten me waxed, pampered, picked and plucked for tonight. I couldn't remember the last time my skin was this smooth.

“Danielle I’m not at this point yet.” I’d been indecisive like crazy. Though I’d prepared to take a couple of dates—getting an exam and a waxing—I’d always suspected I’d change my mind. “I’m not here,” I insisted. But wasn’t I?

Yesterday I could’ve sworn I’d seen my dad, In Miami.

I’d been riding the bus home from a cleaning gig when I’d seen a tall, lean, man with scruffy looking blonde hair stepping out of a jewelry store, striding toward a car.

The last time I’d seen him had been in the glare of headlights, his green eyes shining against his blood-coated face.

If he was here, then I needed to flee to a new city as soon as possible. But that took some cash.

“You make this job sound so horrible,” Danielle said. “You’re going to do great. You have the balls, and that’s half the battle!”

Despite my upbringing or maybe because of it I was pretty shameless. Even with my, ahem, generous ass, I’d proudly walked along Solina beaches in a micro thong bikini.

I’d gotten into sexy situations with all manner of high school boys, doing everything but fucking, earning a reputation as a tease.

Danielle said, “You’ll have inquiries from the agency site before you know it.”

She’d gotten the web guy for Elite Escorts to toss up a makeshift page for me, by promising him an HR. Hand release. Or a hand job.

I knew all the lingo, had chuckled as she’d recited acronyms, never imagining I’d be using the lingo. A BBBJ was a bareback blowjob.

Swallowing was BBBJNQNS—bareback blowjob, no quit, no spit. MSOG—multiple shots on goal—meant the client could come as many times as he liked in the specified time limit.

“You shouldn’t have bothered with that web page for me.” I’d told her I would only do this once or twice, but she’d just smiled and said, “That’s what we all thought. Now pose for your site photo!”

“You only have a couple more minutes to be on time,” Danielle said. “Take a deep breath, remember my key three points, and you’ll be fine.”

First, I should look for a nondescript envelope of cash lying on a conspicuous surface—my “donation.” I was to do nothing until I pocketed the money.

And then? The name of the game was letting him think he is getting everything and more so he can pay for services above and beyond what he called for, earnings that were all mine.

Second, since my client wasn’t likely to inspire arousal—despite the fact that I hadn’t had sex in forever and my libido was going crazy!—I’d need to figure out a way to furtively lube up.

Most escorts did. Lube made for safer sex and Of course, a condom was mandatory.

Third, the majority of clients that used Elite Escorts liked taking the escorts on sweet dates; I was a cheeky smart-ass. So I would have to curb my personality to succeed.

Damn it, I should never be in the service industry—in any capacity.

But I needed this money to run! I had my own rules, and in three years I’d never broken them.

The rules

1. Never say anything, always lie since I was such a bad liar.

2. Never create links between you and anything else. e.g fall in love or have a pet

3. Never stay in a place longer than six months.

4. Never get soft.

5. Never attract attention to yourself -which I already did by putting my picture on a website.

6. Forgodsakes, never, never, never trust another man.