CHAPTER ONE...

The Present...​

 The cold, wet washcloth between my legs felt good against my used and slightly bruised pussy lips. 'Just-Call-Me-Jim' had been a vigorous lover. Looking into the bathroom mirror, I couldn't see any more cum on my pussy and thighs, and I adjusted my dress. After another look in the mirror to make certain I'd cleaned my face of all traces of sex, I did a quick touch-up of my make-up. Straightening my dress again, I exited the bathroom and had to laugh. Jim was standing almost naked beside the bed. Almost naked because he'd found my thong panties while I'd been in the bathroom dressing and cleaning our sex from my face and between my legs. My thongs were now dangling from his still semi-erect cock.

"Thank you for scrounging those from under the bed for me," I managed after stilling my laughter. Closing the distance between us, I was reaching for the panties when Jim pulled me close.

Hands clasped my ass cheeks through my dress as he whispered into my neck, "Are you sure you need to leave? We can have some drinks… Maybe order some room service to pass the time until I'm ready for Round Three."

If I'd met Jim earlier in the day, I would have agreed. The extra money would have been nice. But..."I'd like to, Baby. But it's getting late. I need to go." Letting him down gently with a kiss, I reached between us to close my fingers around his shaft. After slow stroking for a few seconds, I leaned backward until his hands on my ass let go. Plucking my panties from his now hard cock and after checking I wouldn't sit in a wet spot, I sat on the bed we'd occupied only a short time before. Jim watched in silence as I slipped them on. Pulling the hem of my dress back down, I snagged my purse and made my way towards the door to the hall. Jim slowed my progress with grasping hands, pulling me to him for last kisses and gropes of my tits and ass cheeks.

Finally making it to the door, Jim handed me an envelope without comment, and in the same silence, I slipped it into my purse. I did thank him for my gift by gripping his cock for one last squeeze as he kissed me again. "I hope you'll call me if you're in the city again," I said when he opened the door for me.

"I will! I definitely will," Jim promised as I slipped through the door. I added a little more sway to my hips in case he was watching as I made my way to the hotel elevators.

Stopping in the Ladies' Room off the hotel's lobby, I checked that our last kisses hadn't smeared my lipstick. I retrieved and opened the envelope from my purse. I don't count 'Gifts' in front of clients. Four crisp Benjamins. Added to what my first client had gifted me earlier in the day, plus my share of the fee Marla charged each client for my time... The Louis Vuitton purse and matching shoes I've been wanting were soon to be mine!

Giving Marla a quick call as I waited for the doorman to flag down a taxi, I gave her a quick run-down on our service's newest client. His likes and dislikes, etc. Marla would make notes. If he called again, I or another girl would know a bit about him rather than going in cold as I had. I heard the click of a keyboard in the background, and Marla told me that my share of the fee this client had been charged for my time was now deposited into my bank account. Another very profitable day was over.

Marla had explained her 'payment plan' when she'd recruited me. She ran a completely cashless business. Money would be transferred to an offshore bank from a client's credit card. A series of bank transfers would automatically occur and from a different offshore bank, my share of the fee would be transferred into my banking account.

I never had to discuss money with clients. If I was sent by Marla, it meant my time was already paid for. Marla ran a very exclusive business. Beautiful girls were offered to very wealthy clients. As she'd once told me, 'If their credit card doesn't have a high enough limit to pay my fee, then they're not wealthy enough for me to fool with.'

Wealthy clients meant nice gifts. Three to five hundred dollar gifts were about average. On one very good day, after seeing two clients, I'd gone home with a thousand dollars in my purse. All cash and tax-free. The money Marla deposited into my bank account was taxable though, darn it!

Glancing at my watch in the taxi, I knew I was cutting it close, but I would make it on time to catch the train to the suburbs. I had the driver drop me two blocks from my Brownstone. I've had clients try to track me down outside of work, and now I took precautions. I went inside the apartment building I was dropped off in front of and exited out the back door.

Taking shortcuts through parking areas, I hoofed it as quickly as I could in four-inch heels to my building. Inside, I stripped off my heels, checked my mailbox (empty), and ran the stairs to the top floor as my nod to cardio.

Locking my door behind me, I stripped off my 'Work Clothes'. Clothes my parents would never have let me wear in public. My gift money joined other hundreds in the tin marked Flour on my kitchen counter. From a small drawer beside my stove, I pulled out an even smaller baggie. I'd fucked two clients today. Questing between my legs, I found the string and pulled out the tampon I'd inserted to stop Jim's cum from wetting my panties. The tampon went into a baggie, and the baggie went into the trash.

After washing my fingers, I carried my clothes into the bedroom and left them on my bed. All the jewelry my mom would never believe I could afford on what I earned as an office temp was left on my dresser. My watch was the only indulgence I allowed myself to wear at home. It was exhausting enough to remember to change one set of jewelry for another. Luckily, my parents wouldn't know a four thousand dollar Cartier Rose Gold watch from a ten dollar Wal-Mart Swatch.

Turning the water on in my shower, I twisted my long hair into a bun and pinned it. A quick wash under the warm water to remove sweat, any undiscovered cum, and the smell of sex... I was toweling off when my phone rang. Damn, I'd forgotten to turn it off after calling Marla. As expected, it was Mom. I'd told Mom the plausible lie that employers didn't want to see temp workers on the phone and kept my phone off during the day. It was after 4:30 pm, so I couldn't plead work to not answer.

There was no reason for Mom's call except to be sure I was going to be on time for supper. But my mom is a talker. She can talk forever about nothing. I put my phone on conference call and placed the phone on my bed as I dressed in the 'Suburban Clothes' I'd worn as I left the house this morning. Dressing, I shook my hair out of the bun and finger-fluffed it out while giving appropriate responses to Mom. After pleading having to run for a taxi, I hung up.

My Brownstone apartment is in a perfect location. Three short city blocks from the train station and two blocks the other way from the subway. Another thing that made it perfect was the Coffee Clutch I stopped at on the way to the train. Strong coffee and a pastry would keep me going until dinner. I bought two pastries. I hadn't eaten all day.

The house and suburb I'd grown up in was about a thirty-minute trip by train. I used the time to relax and to ignore the admiring looks from the same old guy I saw on the train many evenings. I'm six-foot tall with long, blonde hair and a slender build. Except for my boobs. They weren't slender. They were 34DDs that strained the buttons on any blouse I wore. Big boobs can rarely be hidden except under a Winter coat. It was Spring so I just ignored the attention from men my boobs drew. I've had almost four years to practice 'ignoring' since my fifteenth birthday when my boobs finally stopped growing. It was a twenty-minute walk from the station to our home. On nice days I rode my bicycle. Today was a nice day, and soon I was coasting to a stop in our garage. Entering the house, I tossed my bookbag on a chair and yelled, "I'm home, Mom. What's for supper?"

**********

The next morning, my phone rang as I stepped from the train onto the platform. My commute from the suburbs to the city had ended in its predictable way. A call from Mom to catch up on my life since I'd gone to sleep the night before. Because I was always up and away from the house before Mom and Dad were up, morning phone calls took the place of the conversations we used to have over breakfast before school.

The usual pleasantries followed but soon segued into predictable themes, 'When was I going to look for a better job than being an office temp? A job that offered benefits and security. Was I still uninterested in going to college?' She'd just begun to express wishes that I'd find a guy, 'I'm not getting any younger. Grandkids would be nice to have around while I'm still young enough to enjoy them.' At that point, pleading being in a hurry, I hung up and checked my messages to make certain I had the correct time for my first appointment.

I had plenty of time, so I stopped at the Coffee Clutch for coffee and a sugary pastry to snack on as I slowly walked towards my apartment. An apartment my parents knew nothing about. I've given serious thought to moving out of my parent's house and to the city. I was almost nineteen and out of high school. Many girls I'd graduated with were finishing their freshman year of college. Others had jobs and were living on their own. A few were already married! Money was no longer an issue, but...

But the city was a short ride by train from our suburb. If my mom knew I had an apartment she would be dropping by at all hours of the day, any day of the week. I'd never be able to keep my secret a secret. Instead, I considered my apartment as a very large closet where I changed clothes. I lived at home in the bedroom which had been mine since I was sleeping in a cradle. Mom and I still rode bikes together. Shopped together. Gardened, talked, and watched weepy-eye Lifetime/Hallmark movies together. To keep Mom happy, I even went out on dates occasionally.

My Dad? Oh, he huffed and puffed and bellowed like an elephant wondering, 'When are you going to leave the damned nest so your mom and I can have some damned peace and quiet around here!' But on Saturday mornings after falling asleep on the couch during a late-night binge of watching the aforementioned weepy-eye movies, I'd find a blanket covering me and Dad making a huge breakfast while bellowing, 'Eat you idiot child and put some meat on those skinny bones so you have the energy to find your own damned place and leave me in peace!' Yeah, I've had Daddy figured out and wrapped around my little finger since I took my first steps.

Thinking of steps, I looked at my watch and increased the pace of mine while licking my fingers clean of gooey sugar. I ran the stairs again for cardio and on the third floor landing I met Danny heading down. A senior in college, Danny lived in the apartment below mine. With hair that always needed to be cut and dressed in his usual jeans and wrinkled t-shirt, he still looked delicious in a rumpled, un-made bed, shaggy sad-eyed sheepdog kind of way. I knew he had a little crush on me and wanted to ask me out. Schoolwork, part-time jobs, lack of money, and a bad case of shyness kept him from asking.

Exchanging 'Heys', I was several steps past when I heard him stumble and almost fall with the thud of a bookbag hitting the steps echoing in the stairwell. Grinning, I tried very hard not to laugh. I just knew he'd turned his head to check out my butt and tripped. I stopped on the landing above his and watched as he fumbled for his dropped bag.

"You okay, Danny?"

"Ahh, yeah. Just clumsy, I guess," he answered while trying to keep a furiously blushing face turned away as much as possible. Danny changed the subject by pointing to my coffee. "You know, Olivia. It'd be cheaper to brew coffee instead of going out to buy one every morning."

I'd made up the story of going to the Coffee Clutch for coffee when Danny had met me coming in as he was going out once too often. "I know. I guess, I just like the taste."

"Hey, Olivia," Danny said as I was turning to run the remaining steps to my floor. "Thanks. I know I haven't mentioned this, but having someone as quiet as you above me, I mean, living in the apartment above mine, it's really great. I saw the hardwood floors when I moved in, and I was afraid that I'd be hearing the clump, clump, clump of footsteps at all hours. How someone as big as you can move so quietly, well, when I'm trying to study it really means a lot."

Since I couldn't explain that the reason I was so quiet at night was because I wasn't in my apartment at night, I just took the compliment with one reservation, "Someone as big as I am?"

"I meant as tall as you are. You're nowhere near fat! You have an incredible... I mean, your body is totally... Ahh..."

The laughter I'd kept in earlier bubbled out, and I took pity on the shy nerd. "It's fine, Danny, and thanks for the stammered-out almost compliment. I gotta run to get to work on time, but score an A on a test for me today."

Mine was a large corner apartment on the top floor. No clumping footsteps above me to have to put up with. Closing the door behind me, I tossed my bag and keys on the table beside the door and breathed in the sweet smell of privacy. This was my first apartment, and although I didn't spend much time here, it was still mine. All mine!

I could decorate it the way I liked. Paint the walls with the colors I like. Buy furniture that I like. I could even run naked through all the rooms. Cook in the nude. Throw caution to the wind and even fry bacon in the nude! Tried that once. Hot bacon grease spattering out of the skillet had me grabbing for an apron very quickly. So, okay, probably wouldn't fry bacon in the nude again, but the important point was that I could if I wanted to.

Going to the bedroom, I stripped and tossed all my clothes onto the bed before opening the doors to my closets. The outfits I wore to and from home were for my dad and mom's benefit. The clothes I kept here in my apartment were my real work clothes. Shopping in stores far above what I could have afforded on my pay if I were an office temp had filled my closets with beautiful clothes. Knowing who I was meeting, I picked out a backless, black dress and held it to my front. Shaking my head, imagining what my dad would say if he saw me headed out the door for a date in a dress this short and without a bra, I laid it on the bed. Hose, garter belt, and panties, also black, joined the dress.

My apartment has two bedrooms. Not needing two, I'd paid our building's super to turn my second bedroom into my Shoes-and-Accessories Closet by lining the walls with shelves. My building's super loves me. I pay in beer and cash and always wear a revealing top when I ask for something. I surveyed the choices I had and picked my ash-colored Christian Louboutin's. Unlike many of my friends who exceeded 5'8", I liked being tall. Unless I'd had another growth spurt, I was still just a hair over six foot tall in my bare feet. The heels of my Louboutin's would elevate me to over 6'4" and the client I was seeing this morning liked tall women. Tall women who didn't wear panties… My panties went back into my panty drawer.

Dressed and accessorized with appropriate jewelry and purse, my last act in the bedroom was to spritz the air three times with my favorite perfume before walking through the sweet, scented mist. One last look in the mirror and I grabbed my purse. In the kitchen, I took some condoms from the tin marked Sugar and slipped them into a side pocket of my purse. Some of my clients asked for condoms, and it was better to have too many than not enough. From the tin for Tea, I grabbed more tampons and put those in my purse. Ready for the day, I locked my door and headed for the stairs. Walking towards the entrance to the subway, I texted Marla that I'd be on time for my first appointment. Time to shake my money maker…

I'm sure anyone reading this is pretty confused by now. But there's a simple explanation. You see, some months ago, I was an office temp fresh out of high school. One afternoon, as I was walking out of the building where I'd been filing papers all day, a woman approached me, handed me her card, and offered me a job...

CHAPTER TWO...

10 Months Past…

"DISCREETOFFICESERVICES.COM," I read off the card. "Sounds like you work for the CIA or something," I joked, setting my bookbag down beside a chair to accept the coffee cup Marla offered me.

"Or something," Marla replied with a small smile She sat with perfect posture in the high-backed, leather chair behind her desk. Sipping from her coffee cup, she smiled, "I've noticed you working in the building this past week. You're a very pretty young lady. Head cheerleader and Prom Queen in high school?"

"Thanks for the compliments." I felt the heat of a blush on my cheeks. I've never felt comfortable accepting compliments for things I'd been born with. After all, how much credit can you take for being the recipient of a lucky arrangement of bits and pieces of genetic code? "Cheerleader, yes, but not the head cheerleader, and I got enough votes to be a member of the Queen's Court but not the Prom Queen."

Marla laughed, "You were content to be the Queen Bee, weren't you."

"Well..." I shrugged. "It seemed to really mean a lot to one of my girlfriends. It just wasn't worth it to me to split our group into competing factions."

"I thought so. Anyway, about the job offer. You see, twelve years ago, I was sitting in a chair much like the one you are sitting in now and looking across a desk very much like this one. I was being offered the same opportunity I'm offering to you. Different office, different city, of course, but the offer was the same."

"And in just twelve years you worked your way up to being the boss? Or CEO, or whatever your job title is? You must have been very hard-working."

"I was. One might say I worked my ass off to get where I am today. Also, the job I was offered, and I'm now offering to you, has, sort of, an expiration date. You either move up to management in a few years, or you leave the field entirely. Six months ago, I chose to move here, open my own agency, and move up to management."

"Well, you must be doing something right. I mean, your office decor costs thousands! I measured an office to help order furniture for a new Vice-President of a company I temped at. I saw the magazine they were ordering furniture from, so I know something about how much furniture like these costs." I reached out to run my hand over the smooth surface of her desk. "Solid cherry. Probably cost more than I'll make in a year on my salary."

"Very perceptive. So, in a nutshell, let me make my pitch to you. Out there," Marla began with a graceful, encompassing wave of her hand. "Out there in the city, there are hundreds, thousands, of successful men and women. They became successful because of long hours of hard work. Long hours of hard work which left them exhausted and with few opportunities to truly enjoy the fruits of their hard work.

"They had little time or energy to socialize, to date, to meet new people, to fall in love. Some of them remained single. Some settled for 'good enough'," Marla said, using air quotes. "Most of my target demographic are men in their forties or older. All of them are well off financially and tired of being single. Tired of having settled for good enough.

"They're still relatively young. They're much better off financially, and they're out there looking for the excitement that was denied to them when they were on their way up the corporate ladder and not so well off. Unfortunately for them, but fortunately for me and perhaps you, a leopard doesn't change its spots so easily. They are still stuck on that corporate treadmill. Long hours of hard work are all they've ever known for so long that getting off that treadmill seems impossible for them."

Marla shrugged her shoulders to express bewilderment at the idea that people would voluntarily work so hard. Rising from her chair, Marla walked from behind her desk to the chair beside mine and sat.

"But... Isn't there always a but? But now they have corner offices and private secretaries. Large bank balances. Nice stock portfolios. Plush homes in gated communities. Luxury cars. They have all the material things they once thought they wanted, and the damned fools are still working eighty hours a week! The idiots just can't stop from working themselves into an early grave.

"But... There's that, but again," Marla said with a laugh. "But humans want excitement, crave intimacy. Since my clients seem incapable of relaxing and taking the time to go out and find that intimacy, I provide them with intimacy. Any type of intimacy they desire, when and where they want. Do you understand?

It took me several seconds, but the light bulb finally lit up over my head. "You're a Madame?!"

Marla smiled and held her hands up and out, "What's in a name? Madame, CEO, Company President, Pimp. Call girl, escort, consort, mistress, hooker, whore... All the same thing. A rose by any other name... The only thing which changes is the degree of respectability the public attaches to the name."

Marla sat back in her chair and, over steepled fingers, asked me, "What would you say if I told you that all women become whores at times?"

"I'd say that you're wrong," I replied forcefully. "My mom would never become a whore."

"Really? Give me your definition of a whore?"

"A woman who has sex for money."

"So, you agree that if a woman has sex for compensation, she's a whore. But money isn't the only form of compensation there is. So now expand that definition. My definition of a whore would be... A woman who has sex for any reason other than her own enjoyment. Are you a virgin, Olivia?"

"Umm, no..." I stammered, taken aback by Marla's bluntness.

"Do you think that you've whored yourself?"

"NO!"

"Really?" There was a tone of satisfaction in Marla's voice. As if she'd already won our argument. "Ever been with a guy out on a date and he's all over you? He's whining about how horny he is. Pawing at your boobs and between your legs? Trying to undo your bra? Your jeans? You don't feel like having sex but to keep the guy happy and calm him down, maybe you gave him a blowjob or handjob? Maybe you've even thought, What the hell? and get naked and spread your legs in the back seat? Wouldn't that qualify as having sex not for your enjoyment but for the compensation of stopping his incessant whining? Did you ever feel you were obligated to have sex because he was paying for the date? Haven't you already whored yourself?"

Marla stopped talking and waited for my reply. Remembering some of my dates in high school and what had happened on them, I thought about her definition of a whore as a woman who has sex for any reason other than her own enjoyment. I thought about it and... Marla took my continued silence as a yes.

"Olivia, we've just met, but I'd make another bet that our experiences growing up were pretty much the same. Middle-class values. Pretty and popular in school. I was the Prom Queen, by the way. We all whored for something," Marla said. She didn't say it in a gloating voice, though her tone was of someone just stating a fact. "You're tired of his whining so you have sex just to shut the asshole up. Maybe you think it will gain you popularity in school. You're afraid of not having a date for the big dance so you do what it takes to keep the guy who will invite you to Senior Prom. There are so many reasons other than because you wanted to have sex."

Marla reached over and picked up a leather folder off her desk. "What I do is simplify things. I discard all the reasons a woman will have sex except for one. Money." Taking a paper from the folder, she wrote on it before handing it to me. The only thing on the paper was a number.

"That is how much a woman earns every time she meets a client I send her to. If my girl agrees to see a client, she's only obligated to spend two hours doing what the client wants. The number is doubled if the client wants to include someone else. Tripled for the third person, etc., etc. That number is doubled for every hour or part of an hour the client keeps my girl after two hours."

I started doing the math and was speechless while Marla continued.

"So, let's say my client needs a date, arm candy, for a party. The party lasts three hours, and at the end, he or she has a friend who wants to party on into the night for another two hours."

I tried to do the math. I doubled the number for the third hour and added it to the first number, then added another doubled number for the third person joining the fun. That still left the fourth and fifth hours to double and add...

"Would you like to use my calculator," Marla asked with a laugh.

"Here, I'll make it simple," she continued. Pulling the paper from my hand, she wrote another number down and handed the paper back to me. "That is how much my girl will make for five hours of her time."

Holy Shit!!! I was speechless! A five-hour party with two guys would go a long way to paying for a semester at City College. I'm pretty sure that there are times when each of us will wonder what we'd do for a large sum of money. I took another look at the number Marla had written down. I was tempted to ask for that calculator, so I could calculate the number of days I'd have to work at the temp agency to get to that number.

"Men actually pay this..."

Marla interrupted me, "Olivia, this is pocket change for my clients."

I shook my head and sighed as I handed the sheet of paper back to Marla, "I live at home. Even if I were tempted I could never 'date'." This time, I used air quotes. "Go out on dates every night and still work to explain how I was making money."

"Who said anything about working for me only at night," Marla asked. She rose and opened the blinds of a window. The city skyline was prominent. "Out there today, I had six girls working. I still had to turn down clients. I'd have to turn down clients if I had ten girls working every day. I brought many girls I worked with to this city when I made my move, but some of my girls are like you. They live in the suburbs, and, when they're able, they come to the city and work with one or two clients, sometimes even three clients a day if I can work the scheduling right.

"There are many successful men and women who are too busy to take the entire day off. Too tired after work for a date. But maybe they can free up an hour during the day. Perhaps they're here in the city for business and want to combine business with some pleasure. I'll get a request for a girl at such-n-such time at either a hotel room or maybe just their office. If a girl is available and can make it to the location in time, I send her.

"Some of my girls are proper, suburban married wives and mothers. No children or they've kept their figures after childbirth. Kids are in school or at their grandparents' for the day. Husbands are at work. She's bored so she tells everyone she's going to the city to shop and maybe see a movie. She'll let me know the date and the hours she'll be available in advance, and I'll have a client lined up for her. Sometimes, two clients if she has the time. Before she reaches home, I've deposited money in her private bank account from an offshore bank. Usually? I'll never even see her that day."

Marla sat down and went quiet as I thought over all she'd said. I felt as if an entirely new world was opened to me. I wasn't a virgin. I was even on the pill already because, on some of the dates I went on to satisfy my mom, I also satisfied myself.

"So, I could continue to come into the city as if I was still working at the temp agency? What if a girl has to be on a train at a certain time? Would you pressure her to stay for another client?"

"Never. You are only obligated to stay two hours each time you agree to see a client. All of my clients know this and if, at the end of two hours you need to leave? That's it, it's over. I've worked for a Madame who pressured her girls to do, 'just one more'. Pretty soon she had no girls working for her. I don't intend to make that mistake."

"Your girls do anything the client wants? There are things I've never done before."

"Yes. If you agree to meet a client, you are obligated to do anything he or she wants to do for at least two hours. On that point, there is flexibility on only two conditions. Any act that could result in an arrest. So public sex is out! Any act that could result in bodily harm. So, whips are out. My clients know these conditions. Clients, especially those who make appointments during the day for when they might have a break in their schedule, usually want just straight sex for some fun and stress reduction. But if I get a message that one of my girls refused any reasonable request, she doesn't get paid."

"Damn, I could see just one client a day and make way more money than I'd make temping," I mused. "Do your girls, umm, find work every day?"

Marla laughed, "Olivia! Have you looked in a mirror lately? You're tall, blonde, eye-catching beautiful, and your measurements are... Impressive," Marla finished with a pointed look at my chest. "I can guarantee that within a month, you'll have every day booked with at least one regular client. Most likely two. Ten clients a week."

I did the math again. Added a zero and… That would be close to... Holy shit!

"Doing the math, Olivia?" I nodded, and Marla continued. "Don't forget to add in gifts. Your clients will be wealthy, and though you may never ask for money nor discuss money with them, they will often show their appreciation to my girls for good service in the way of gifts that average between two and three hundred dollars. Often more. Gifts are kept by the girls. I don't get a cut of those."

I had my mouth open to ask the obvious question when Marla anticipated me and answered before I asked. "Think about it before you ask why I don't take a cut. Knowing they get to keep 100% of gifts makes my girls try very hard to satisfy my clients. Satisfied clients keep coming back for more. I make more money from repeat business of well-satisfied clients than I would from any cut from the gifts. Another business lesson I learned from a previous employer."

Damn! Even at the low end of tips, with just ten clients a week, two a day, that would be an extra two thousand dollars. That would boost the weekly total to... Holy fucking shit!

"Tax-free?"

"You can declare as much of your gifts as you want or none. Your salary from me, yes. It's all taxable. No way do I want to cross the IRS. I file taxes just like any other business. As far as the IRS is concerned, I just run another temp agency for models. Pay stubs and info for filing taxes are kept here in the office. I never mail them out where husbands and others might see them. It's your responsibility to come get them if you want them."

I was silent for a long time as amounts kept going round and round my brain. All that money. More money than I'd ever considered I'd be able to make. Even with days off for my menstrual periods... Damn! I'd have enough money to attend college without student loans in no time. No part-time jobs. No bankrupting my parents. I'd join a sorority, of course. Frat parties…

Marla finally broke me out of my daze and led me to the door. Handing me another business card, she told me to think about her offer. "No pressure, Olivia. If you have any further questions, you can return here. If you decide you'd like to try working for me, come on back, and I'll tell you the rules I have, and, then, send you out to meet your first client."

Hailing a taxi, I phoned Mom to tell her I'd missed my regular train and would be a little late. At the dinner table, I tried hard to act as if this had just been a normal day where nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Pleading a stressful day, I brushed my teeth and put on one of the many Hello Kitty nightshirts I wore to sleep in before going to bed early. Lying awake in the dark, I kept thinking about what I could do with lots and lots of money...

********************

I thought about Marla's offer all week while at home or my temp job. My boring, brain-numbing temp job where, for eight hours a day, I scanned old paper files from, like, a gazillion years ago into computer memory to free up cabinet space for more paper files. Each hum of the scanner made me think of all that money... What I'd have to do to earn it. On Friday, my boss said I wouldn't be needed after today. Which meant on Monday, I'd have to spend an entire morning in the temp agency's office while they found me a new position. Yet another day without pay!

Friday night, I went on a date with a guy I'd been seeing off and on for a few weeks. We had dinner before we drove to a no-tell motel for sex. Very unsatisfying sex for me, at least. This was our second time having sex, and the only reason I'd agreed to go to the motel was the hope his poor performance the first time was due to just regular issues of having first-time sex with a new partner. It wasn't. His performance in the motel was just terrible. Straight in-and-out, wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am sex. Very uninspired. Marriage material, he was not! Contemplating a life of ho-hum sex was unbearable.

Later that night, as my date drove me home, I couldn't help but think of the money I would have earned if I had done what I had just done with a client Marla sent me to meet. Of course, the client would be a stranger. But... Looking at my date as he drove me home, I wondered how much I knew about him. Not much, really, and yet I'd just spread my legs for him in a cheap motel room.

My date noticed me looking at him and smiled. Pulling over to park on the street just before mine, he leaned over to kiss me. Or rather, as close as he could with the center console in the way. His hand was squeezing my boob even before he spoke. "You don't need to be home yet," he said after kissing me. We engaged in a little wrestling as I tried to pull away. I wanted to go home, and he wanted… Well, what he wanted was pretty obvious, as he continued to unbutton my blouse enough to allow his hand to slide inside to fondle my tit through my bra.

We continued in this way until he took my hand in his and placed it on the hard-on in his jeans. "You can take care of this, can't you?"

He opened his jeans and pushed my hand under his boxers to rub my hand on his cock. "C'mon, Olivia. You're so good at sucking cock, it'll take just a few more minutes. It's not as if you haven't done it before."

Fuck it… If it gets me home quicker… It flashed through my head how Marla had defined a whore. I didn't want to suck his cock, but I was going to. It had been a long day, and I just didn't give a damn. I'd already sucked his cock once tonight before letting him fuck me... If one more blow job got me home without an argument or more wrestling… A streetlight provided plenty of illumination for me to see as I helped push jeans and underwear down far enough to uncover an already hard cock. My date pushed his seat back as far as it would go from the steering wheel to give me room to suck his cock.

Another strike against this guy was that he was quick out of the gate if you take my meaning. Although, I didn't mind so much this time. After only a few minutes of mouth and hand action, he was groaning, close to release. Hands on my neck and the back of my head tried to push my mouth down and hold my mouth around his cock. I knew he was going to come, but I've never let a guy come in my mouth. I managed to pull my head away just in time to cup one hand over his tip while stroking faster with my other hand.

Having come in me already, he didn't fill my palm with much cum. While he continued to moan out his satisfaction and what a great cocksucker I was, I continued to milk his cock until I was pretty sure I'd emptied his shaft. Opening my car door, I leaned out to wipe as much cum onto the grass between the sidewalk and curb as I could. Rubbing my hands to spread out the little bit of cum still on my hands, the residue dried quickly and flaked away. My date didn't know it yet, but this was to be our last date.

I adjusted my boobs in their cups and buttoned my blouse during the short drive to my house. Mom and Dad were watching TV as I walked in. Passing the chess board on my way to the stairs, I saw that Dad had made a move. It was not one I'd expected. It would require more study in the morning before I moved. I spent a few minutes talking to my parents before going upstairs to wash my hands and between my legs before going to bed.

After several minutes of tossing and turning because I was feeling 'unsatisfied' after my date, I retrieved the carefully hidden vibrator I kept in my closet. My parents were still watching TV on the first floor, and my bedroom was on the second. Lying under sound-muffling blankets, there was no chance they'd hear the quiet, battery-driven huuuummmm as I began satisfying myself…

**********

Monday morning, I was sitting in a Coffee Clutch near Marla's office. I could either walk down the street and up two flights, or I could catch the next subway to the temp office. I was weighing my options. The pros vs the cons... The ying vs the yang... Magnum's Ferrari vs ... Well, there was no versus. Magnum's Ferrari beats everything! I've wanted one ever since binge-watching the old series. But I'd never be able to afford one on a temp's salary.

All weekend, I'd thought about my Friday night date. How I'd made my date believe he was a fantastic lover who'd rocked my world as he laid on top of me after coming. As I sat on the toilet to wipe my pussy lips clean of cum, I continued to tell him how great I felt even as I was secretly hoping he'd just take me home. I still felt dirty about how quickly I'd surrendered to giving him another blow job.

Going to the motel could be chalked up to curiosity. Would he really be as bad again as he'd been the first time we'd had sex? But there was no doubt that blowing him in his car was just me being a whore to get the date over with. I wondered if seeing a client could be worse. Probably not, and the reward would be more than a meal and a quickie in a motel room. Decision made; I walked down the street and up two flights. Marla remembered me and seemed delighted to see me again. I turned down her offer of coffee, and while she poured herself a cup, I asked if the offer was still open.

"It certainly is, Olivia."

"And I'd be able to, ah, work every day?"

Marla laughed and answered, "For someone with your looks and body? I can find you work seven days a week if that's what you want. Is it?"

"No! I mean, I wouldn't be able to explain my trips into the city on the weekends."

"Well, as I said before, with just a little luck as far as scheduling goes, I'm certain you can have two clients a day very soon if you want that much money."

For the next hour, Marla went over her rules. I could turn down requests from clients if there was fear of bodily harm or arrest. Marla also said I could turn down requests for anal sex unless, 'the client requests it in advance so you can get ready.' I'd never let a guy try that. I was curious how a gal got 'ready' for anal sex but was too shy to ask. We decided on my 'working' name, and after answering a few more questions I had, Marla leaned back in her chair and asked if I'd be willing to start today.

"Today!? You mean, like, now!?"

"Certainly. Why not? Viv, if you're going to back out, now's the time to find out. This way, I won't have wasted very much of my time."

I thought for maybe five seconds. After I said a hesitant okay, Marla called someone, and, just like that, I had my first appointment with a client scheduled for about an hour from now. Marla made me memorize the client's name and address and, then, added, "If you chicken out, which has happened before with other girls, no hard feelings, just never come to me again. Viv, you're very intelligent, and you have the face and figure to make a lot of money." Marla looked at her watch and concluded, "You now have fifty minutes to decide if you have the courage to follow through with what it takes to earn that money!"

I was unsure I had the courage. Very, very unsure. But forty-five minutes later I was in a stranger's office as he expressed his delight while locking his door. "Damn, Marla said she was sending someone who was perfect. Now I believe her. You are everything I hoped for, Viv."

The man glanced at his watch and exclaimed, "Damn! I don't have much time. I wasn't expecting Marla's call back saying she'd found a girl; I scheduled a meeting with my sales reps in... Damn it! Get undressed. Get undressed," I was commanded as he took off his coat and tie.

When he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it onto a chair, I unbuttoned my blouse and tossed it. When his pants hit the floor, so, too, did my skirt. Boxers and panties dropped at the same time. I still had my bra on, but he reached around behind me to unhook it. In less than a minute, we were both naked, and he had my boobs in his hands, fondling their softness and telling me how perfect they were.

I like to think I have a nice body. Though I'm a hair over six-foot tall in bare feet, I have a slender frame, 34-23-35, which made my DD boobs even more noticeable. I've lost count of the times I've caught men, and even women, staring at the straining buttons of my shirts. Big boobs are hard to hide and are seemingly difficult to ignore. So, I've just gotten used to the stares and have used them to my advantage from time to time. Amazing what an unbuttoned button or two will do. Speeding ticket reduced to a warning? Yup!

This man seemed to be in a hurry, though. After feeling me up for only a few seconds, he led me to a small couch and set me down while he remained standing. With the obvious male appendage now at eye level... I didn't need to be a rocket scientist to figure out what was expected.

Of course, I've given blowjobs before. Lots of them. But sucking the cock of a man I've known for less than five minutes was new to me. His penis was pretty much normal as I took it in one hand. Well, average size, at least from what my previous experiences had taught me. He wasn't circumcised, so I used my grip to pull the foreskin down before leaning over to run my tongue lightly around the exposed bulb before letting more of his penis slip past my lips.

I really wished he practiced penis hygiene a bit more. But he wasn't as bad as... I still shudder when I remember sucking off one football player I had as a boyfriend in high school. He'd given barely a nod to taking a shower after playing a game. His crotch had been pretty ripe. Putting that memory from my mind, I did what was expected and soon had my mouth filled. Hands moved to hold my head still as his hips began to move. I was no longer sucking his cock, I was being mouth fucked. As his hips moved faster, saliva I couldn't swallow dripped between my legs to wet the carpet before the penis in my mouth was pulled away.

"Fuck, that was damned good," the guy exclaimed as he moved away. My knees felt weak, and my legs shook as he pulled me up from the couch and bent me over a nearby table. I was soon in the position he wanted, and, slapping my ass, he exclaimed, "Goddamn, you've got a fine tight ass! I hope your pussy is just as tight!"

I looked over my shoulder as I felt the tip of his penis slid around my slit. Stupid questions clogged my thoughts, 'Was I really going to let a stranger… Just for money? What would I do if he asked for a condom? I don't have any.' That moment passed quickly as he wasted no time in mounting me. With my legs spread I was as open and ready as I could manage, but, God, I was nervous. The first push of his tip inside me made me tense. His penis was wet with my saliva, but I was dry and tight from being nervous. His eager, first thrusts pulled and stretched me enough to cause me to throw my head back and cry out.

Stilling his thrusts, he warned me to be quieter. I put a hand over my mouth and turned my next cries into whimpers. I don't know why he asked me not to make noise since the sound of his hips smacking into my ass cheeks soon rose to new heights. Damn! It hurt, but, thankfully, it wasn't long before his thrusting cock caused me to moisten. Soon, he was exclaiming at how tight I was as he used me fast and hard. Not long afterward, he stiffened and pushed deep with short, hard jabs against my ass cheeks. I felt numb, but I could feel the pulsing of his cock as he came inside me.

I looked back at him over my shoulder again and couldn't even remember his name! Yet, I could feel him filling me with his cum... My God! It had all happened so quickly I hadn't had time to think about what I was doing. What he was doing?

Which was probably a good thing I decided later.

While he was still groaning his release, I lowered my head and looked between our bodies. His cock was wet with our sex as he continued to slowly move inside me. It didn't seem possible that in so short a time I'd gone from being a 'good girl' to becoming a whore.

But if there was any doubt of my new status, my client soon dispelled them. He certainly had no doubts. I was a whore, and that's how he treated me. Pulling his cock out and tossing me my panties. Telling me to put them on quickly.

"I don't want you leaking cum on my couch and carpet," he said. As soon as I'd done what I'd been told he sat on the couch. Hands pulled on my hips until I was kneeling between his legs. Again, there was no uncertainty of what he expected. Remembering I was to do anything a client wanted, I got on my knees beside the couch and opened my mouth to suck on his sticky dick.

Cleaning sex from a penis with my mouth was a first for me. The taste wasn't what I'd expected. Not as bad as I'd feared when I'd refused to do the same with boyfriends from my past. His crotch smelled strongly of pussy, of course. That bothered me more than the taste. But only a little more.

I didn't suck his smelly cock for very long before he was pushing my head away, telling me to hurry and get dressed. Looking at his watch after we were dressed, he gave another muttered, 'Damn it!' Pulling out his wallet he leafed through the bills before, with a shrug of his shoulders, he added more and pressed them into my hand with further instructions.

"Get better clothes before you come back. Something that will say you belong here if a partner sees you. You look like a damned teenager who wandered in to use the bathroom. And get a Brazilian Wax. I don't like hairy pussies. If I want to fuck a hairy pussy I'll fuck my wife," I was told, even as his hand pushed up my skirt to press the cum wet crotch of my panties into my slit as he ended our time together with a hurried, sloppy kiss, "Our next appointment I won't be so pressed for time so I can really enjoy you for longer. But for now, go... go... go... I have that other meeting to get to."

If my sex on Friday night had been wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am, this beat it all to hell, I thought as I left his office. On the elevator ride to the lobby, I was sure people were looking at me differently. But they weren't. I was sure I wasn't the only one to smell the sex that was wetting the crotch of my panties. But no one seemed to.

I may have been new at being a whore, but I wasn't new to going home after sex. Mom and Dad never suspected how many times I'd come home from a date with cum wetting my pussy lips and the crotch of my panties. I used the lessons I'd learned then to good effect now after getting directions to a ladies' room from a guard in the lobby. Sitting on a toilet, I used a tissue to wipe the smeared cum from between my thighs.

While I was the only one in the bathroom, I rinsed the thick cum from the crotch of my panties. Twirling them quickly to spin as much water as I could out of the fabric, I stopped from putting them on and put them in my bookbag instead. I inserted an emergency tampon from my purse to keep more cum from oozing out, and after one last wipe of my pussy lips with a damp tissue, I left the building. Bright sunlight and a cool breeze cleared my head as I began looking for a taxi to flag down.

This time, when I entered Marla's office, she came from around her desk to give me a hug. "The client called and said he was very pleased with you."

"I'm not sure why," I replied with some surprise. "It all happened so fast I don't see how he could have enjoyed it."

"One minute or two hours, it all pays the same," Marla replied with a shrug as she leaned against the edge of her desk and crossed her arms under her ample chest. "He did say he wanted you to dress a bit more professionally and less like a teenager next time. Shall I schedule you for a next time? Wait, wait, before you answer, here," Marla said as she picked up an envelope from her desk and handed it to me. "You haven't given me an account I can deposit your pay in so that's it in cash this time. Now, tell me, do you want there to be a next time?"

I opened the envelope and looked at the money, then mentally added it to the cash I'd counted out while in the taxi coming here. It was more money than I'd ever had in my hands at one time. It exceeded my weekly paycheck from the temp agency. All for undressing and spreading my legs for ten minutes.

Still, it took me some time to think about whether or not I wanted a next time. Marla was quiet and gave me that time. Finally, I looked up and, "Yes, I want there to be a next time."

"Fine," Marla said with a large smile. She handed me a card. "Here's the address of the hotel and the room number. One of my other girls has a scheduling problem. I was going to call him to cancel but... Do you want the money?"

Just the thought of doubling the amount of money I was putting in my bookbag made me decide quickly. Nodding my head, I said, "I'll do it!"

This time, the man who answered my knock used me for the full two hours.

What I learned that afternoon in the hotel room was that the most difficult time spent with the client was having to provide small talk before 'getting down to business'. The two times we had sex was pretty simple. After all, been-there-done- that… All that was really required of me was to open my mouth and legs. A few moans and whispered words of enjoyment, and Nature pretty much took care of things between a man and a woman.

But small talk before and after sex with a stranger? That wasn't something covered during high school Health class while we girls learned how to put a condom onto a banana. But I survived all of it and the gifts both clients had given me plus the money in the envelopes Marla gave me… I'd made more money in half a day than my temp job paid me in a month.

Marla made me leave in time to open a bank account. I phoned her to give her the account number where she could deposit my pay from now on. While I was on the phone, Marla asked if I wanted to continue. Thinking about the cash in my bookbag and the amount I'd just deposited made up my mind quickly. While I was still on the phone, Marla texted me the name of the hotel, room number, and time for tomorrow.

"No reason to come to my office in the morning unless you have more questions. Text or phone me ASAP if, for any reason, you can't make the appointment on time," Marla said. "Call me afterward so I know I can deposit your money. I may have another client lined up for you also."

Hanging up, I found a diner for coffee and a hamburger with fries. I was light-headed from hunger and suddenly exhausted from the release of my nervous tension. I was still amazed at how quickly I'd become a Call Girl. But, tapping cash into a neat pile on the tabletop before me, I knew I wanted more!

When I got home, I remembered what my first client requested. I don't have a thick bush, and I've trimmed between my legs before to wear bikinis during the Summer, but I'd never tried to shave everything. While my parents were downstairs watching TV, I was standing in front of the second-floor sink and mirror. I think I managed to do a fairly decent job of it…