Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Even more sad, I went to college in the hopes of getting ahead. After graduating from Hunter, I tried my hand at various gigs while submitting my writing to multiple publications. I was a barista, a waitress, a ticket-taker at the movie theater, and I even sold popcorn at Yankee Stadium once, I was so desperate to make ends meet. But it just wasn’t enough to cover my bills, and so when a friend introduced me to City Girls, I jumped at the opportunity.
Now, I make loads of cash. Men pay exorbitant sums to enjoy the “girlfriend experience,” which usually means dinner and drinks. The agency makes sure that the clients understand we’re being booked for companionship, but I think everyone knows the real story. And I’m not ashamed to admit that if the client is handsome and a decent guy, then I’ll provide some extras at the end of the night, all for an exorbitant fee, of course.
So City Girls has me for now. And I do mean, for now. I don’t want to work as an escort forever because what woman wants to be forty years old and still putting out to make ends meet? Oh god, that would be so horrible. The ideal situation would be what happened to my friend Patty. She went out on an assignment, and happened to meet a rich, handsome billionaire. Then, they fell in love and got married! It was a real Cinderella ending, and she had a fairytale happily ever after.
Of course, I’m happy for Patty because she’s my friend and she’s worked hard her whole life. But in my darkest moments, I burn with envy when thinking about my buddy. Isn’t that so horrible? I’d hate for Patty to know that sometimes I huddle in my bed, turning green with jealousy as nausea churns in my stomach. Patty’s met her man, and I desperately want to meet mine too.
But what are the chances that that’s going to happen while I’m working as an escort? I want to quit, but I’ve become a little addicted to the lifestyle. It’s not that I’m living high on the hog because I’m not. My apartment is painfully humble, and my clothes come from mid-tier stores. But I’ve gotten used to paying my rent on-time, and not worrying about little luxuries like going out for coffee each morning. How can I go back to my former life of penury?
As a result, I’m going on a date tonight at the Roosevelt Hotel. My heart feels heavy, but the client offered a pretty penny, and when my manager called, she flat-out told me I’d be an idiot to refuse.
“It’s just one date,” Margaux stated. “Don’t be dumb. You’re going to be fine, Simona.”
“But why me?” I asked in a whiny tone, staring at Margaux’s face on the screen. She’s a middle-aged woman with a sharp brown bob who always looks perfectly made up. I’ve heard that Margaux was an escort once upon a time, but with her hard edges, it’s difficult to believe. I sigh again. “There are millions of girls with the agency, so why would the client choose me?”
Margaux’s demeanor turned into that of a scolding mother hen.
“Because you’re pretty, vivacious and sassy,” she said. “Besides, this client requested something special.”
“Oh really?” I asked in a dry tone. “Like what? A girl without crazy fake eyelashes that are a mile long? Or one who won’t fall out of her chair when he tells the same story for the millionth time?”
Margaux’s voice grew sharp then.
“You need to be more grateful for what you have, Simona,” she said in a biting tone. “A lot of women would love to work for City Girls, but we chose you and that’s no small thing. You could be working for Stix or Saucy Pie, but you’re not. You’re here and that’s a good thing.”
“Okay, okay,” I said, my tone repentant. “So what’s the client’s special request? Please tell me it’s something normal.”
Margaux’s voice grew airy.
“Don’t worry, he’s very normal and very wealthy too. Even more, Mr. Montlake has offered to pay triple your rate but with a caveat.”
My heart dropped because these “extras” are always the worst. This is where they reveal they have ugly facial tattoos, unstoppable flatulence, or a drinking problem that’s still being addressed. But instead, Margaux’s voice drops and becomes conspiratorial. “Mr. Montlake says he wants a girl who’s naughty.”
I’m silent for a moment.
“Okay, but most guys want that. What does that even mean?” I venture. “A spanking? Toys? Or something else?”
Margaux merely shrugged and smiled.
“I don’t know but I’m sure it’ll be something fun. You can handle it, Simona. Just go and enjoy yourself, and by the way, let me just stress again: Mr. Montlake is going to pay triple your regular rate.”
With that, she hung up and I sighed. I don’t want to go, but then again, triple is a lot, and the date would only be a few hours. As a result, here I am now, getting ready for a big night out. Oh god, I hope the customer is a relatively benign guy. I hope he’s not secretly a member of the Italian-American mafia based in Red Hook because those customers are the worst. They actually believe the hype about themselves and are always humming the melody from The Godfather. I grimace. Well, that’s life.