Stricken Trust (Stricken Rock) (25 page)

BOOK: Stricken Trust (Stricken Rock)
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“So before we go into tonight’s topic— a new eyeliner I want to cover— I wanted to see if anyone had any clients they would like to talk about?” Brian asks standing at the front of the room. Commanding attention. Per usual.

I look to Becka to see if she has anything she’d like to divulge. I haven’t had much in way of strange clientele the past few weeks. And last week I had two new men who were as vanilla as they come. Boring gala events, minimal intellectual stimulation and sexually it was just as dull. Change is the spice of life. That’s one of the fun things about my job. Sure, I don’t want a man who I’d have to pour hot chocolate all over and lick his chest. But it sure beats bending over a couch for ten minutes to have a below average cock shoved in me. Where I have to fake an orgasm and pretend to actually like him. The hundred dollar tip makes it worthwhile in the end. But it’s a boring existence if they don’t woo you into hot and passionate fucking. I don’t mind a mild amount of kink. It keeps it interesting. And my dates the past few weeks have seriously been lacking in that category.

“I have a question.” Mary speaks up sitting next to Bridget. If I had to pick one of my coworkers to actually like other than Becka, I’d pick Mary. She’s sweet in her own way, very backwoods country wholesome. She does wonders for cowboy boots and daisy dukes. She’s southern and her accent is strong and a huge turn on for some men. I’ve known her for the past two years. That’s when Brian brought her into the group.

“What’s that?” Brian presses.

“I had a man this past week want me to scratch him. He meant drawing blood. But I don’t know how to do that when I barely have any nails and I won’t get fake ones.” She holds up her hands to show us her short nail beds. “How can I fix that for the next time this comes up?” She inquires to the group, her country accent clinging to every syllable.

“I would get fake nails anyways. Men like it,” Carmen answers.

She’s an idiot. And the way she talks in that accent of hers makes her sound even cockier. She’s not lacking in the confidence department, that’s for damn sure. Brian has a hard time keeping her satisfied with clients because she’s very picky. I’ve prayed for her to leave for the past year. Becka, Bridget and I are the only three who have been here for so long. The rest filter in and out. I don’t see Lulu lasting long. Amen to that. Now if Carmen would quit, it would be a sweet-sweet life.

“I can’t very well do that Carmen. I do lots of cookin’ and fake nails are unsanitary,” Mary replies sweet as pie. I don’t know how she doesn’t jump down Carmen’s throat. Just looking at that woman makes me want slap her into next week.

Carmen waves her off with an attitude, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder. What a bitch.

“If men want you to scratch them. I’d say bite them instead. It’s a good change and gives the same amount of pain,” Becka adds. Which I think is a valid explanation.

I nod, agreeing with her.

“I’d say Becka is right Mary. Or get one of those leather spike bracelets and carry it in your purse. Those can do some serious damage and for kinky men it might help with the pleasure factor and get you bigger tips,” I chime in to finish off the topic.

“Thanks ladies. That’s some great ideas. Never thought about a spike bracelet but that would probably work. He kept going on about how he wanted me to scratch him and I tried. But it ended up being a bunch of redlines on his back and I could tell it wasn’t doing it for him,” Mary explains with a gentle smile.

“Any other questions?” Brian asks.

We all shake our heads concurrently.

“Okay ladies. Tonight, since I handed out your schedules, I want to talk about this new eyeliner next and then I need to meet with Becka and Alexis at the same time.” Brian says, then breaks into a twenty minute seminar on this new liquid liner we should all try because it doesn’t smear. He’s such a damn girl.

The rest of the girls dismiss themselves after the session and Becka and I are left to discuss with Brian.

“So ladies, your Saturday schedule will be the same this week. I have different names on your rosters but they are the same date. You are double-teaming a pair of men at a business dinner. Becka your man Andrew is bringing Alexis’s date in for a meeting. He wants you two, to be presentable and sexy but in business attire. Brad is not to know that Alexis is an escort. Brad, from my understanding, thinks you, Becka—” he points to my roomy. “—Are Andrews’s girlfriend and Alexis is your friend who is single. That’s all. I gave Andrew your name Anne and he has no idea who Alexis is. He wanted a blonde and you two are best friends so I figured it will work out in all our favors. The rules are that if Brad wants to have sex, you do not discuss money with him. Andrew has agreed to pay whatever, as long as this stays quiet.”

I nod. “So I’m paid to date a guy who doesn’t actually know I’m being paid?”

“Yes, I know it’s not our normal set up. But you both will be paid $1500 for this, and then whatever sexual favors will be additional.”

My mouth drops open. “Why are we getting more than usual?”

“Anonymity has a price. Plus you two have a new career. You’re managers to a restaurant in town.”

“Did he pick those jobs?” Becka asks, fingering her blonde hair. She’s so sensual, no wonder men love her.

“Yes, he owns a chain of restaurants among other businesses and you’re both managers to one of them,” he explains.

This is stupid. I am to act like I know business and it’s a field I know zilch about. And I’m to keep it a secret that I’m an escort. I always work for the men who hire me. I’ve never been contracted out to someone new. This will be interesting. I just hope he’s not a dick. Most men who I work for, that are paying me and are attentive to me. They want to get their monies worth and use me as arm candy. This will be an actual date. Weird.

“So what restaurant? Shouldn’t we know where we work? I’ll have to educate myself this week on the ins and outs of the restaurant business.”

“He owns Blue and Red.”

Both mine and Becka’s mouths simultaneously drop open in awe. Blue and Red is the hottest restaurant in New York City. It’s expensive and has a three month waiting list. That’s where all the A-lister’s dine. This Andrew guy must be worth some major doe-ray-me. I’ve escorted a few lawyers, doctors, writers, artists, stockbrokers, CEO’s and a lot of less famous people. But I’ve never been on a date like this one. This is going to be epic, for the record books.

Becka and I stay and finish our chat about our upcoming date on Saturday. I will go shopping for this one. No old outfit will do for my new date. We leave and take the subway, train and bus back to our little apartment in Queens.

 

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