Just another day at work. A boring office job. At least that's what I told myself. I didn't know how I ended up here. With this job and this life. Where did I go wrong? I was smart for gods sake. I graduated summa cum laude at an Ivy League college! Which means with greatest honor. For those paying attention, that's a step above magma cum laude. Something had to have really gone wrong with my life for me to end up here, selling my body to support myself and my beautiful son. At least I was expensive so we weren't struggling for much these days. Business casual was the desired dress code for today so I was in a black pencil skirt and white button up shirt. Sans blazer today but the overall outfit hid my slutty lingerie from the masses at the very expensive hotel I was told to be at tonight. My long auburn hair was tied back in a bun and the makeup was understated but with a red lip which was always my go to. Approaching the suite I was told to be at was daunting. Not because it was yet another place I would let someone defile my body. But because it was the goddamn penthouse. Whoever this was made a lot of money and they wanted me for the entire night. Fucking expensive.
Thankfully they sent me a key so I didn't have to wait for someone to either accompany me up to the floor or have them come down and fetch me. I'm sure they needed to keep their anonymity just in case someone recognized me for what I was. For that, I was eternally grateful. I managed to get in the elevator and up to the top floor without anyone giving me suspicious looks. The men seemed to follow me with their eyes but that wasn't unusual. That happened everywhere I went. Men were driven by three things in life. At least the ones I've met. Money, fame, and sex. The down to earth family man was far elusive to me but that was to be expected. Family men don't call hotlines for hookers. They watch porn and bang their wife. Or fuck their fist. Those men have no need or want for a person who's fucked hundreds of clients. If only I met one of those sooner...
As usual when I stopped in front of the door, I cracked my neck, took a deep breath and tucked a stray hair away from my face before knocking three times on the door. This one was easy to find because it was the only door on this floor. I waited semi patiently for the door to swing open. Of course it took longer than normal because I was sure the suite was huge. When it eventually did, I had to take a half step back. Did I get the right room? This dude had to call a hooker? I didn't even think to try the key purely out of habit. Maybe this was a supreme fuck up. Probably. Call it 90% probability that I made a wrong turn. Or got off on the wrong floor. The terror was starting to mount but I forced myself to speak. "Um hi," Well that was probably the worst greeting I could've said. My dumbass didn't even think to ask for the clients name. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
"Hello. Are you Natasha?" He asked in a deep voice. Phew! I was at the right place so I nodded. It wasn't my real name but obviously I wasn't going to use that. That would be a sure fire way to get stalked and murdered. Inviting that crazy home would be a very very bad thing. So Natasha was born from the minuscule creative part of my brain. "I'm Joseph. Come on in,"
For lack of anything to say, I just brushed past him and walked in the ginormous room. Well, apartment. It was far more than one room. I was gobsmacked as I stared at my surroundings. My jaw was on the floor at this point. It had to be. "Please tell me you live here. Renting this for one night or even a week is fucking insane. Nobody needs this much space," I managed to squeak out. He chuckled behind me causing me to spin around and stare at him. Wide eyed and very confused, I couldn't wrap my head around what was happening. Hot rich dude actually called for an escort. That just doesn't connect. It doesn't fucking make sense.
"Well it's just for tonight. I am probably insane though. At least that's what most people say. Don't worry, no clinical diagnosis of that yet. Relax. I just wanted this to feel as normal as possible for my own sanity. I've never done this before..." he trailed off looking uncomfortable. Walking past me, he grabbed a beer from the weirdly normal sized fridge and paused before offering me one as well. I gladly accepted it. Wine was never my thing like most people assume. Champagne was tolerable sometimes. Beer was definitely my go to in most circumstances. He pulled out a barstool for me at the breakfast counter and sat next to me. The uncomfortable and shifty look in his eye didn't fade in the slightest.
