A Job Like Any Other

‘Green suede boots is what I’ll keep my mind on’, thought Zoe and marched inside the Drake Hotel with a determined step. ‘The ones in the Bloomingdale’s. Tall, reaching over the knee with a half-circled hole above the heel. Sexy and sassy.’ 

She carefully avoided the looks of the receptionists, who were too busy to pay her any attention anyway. There seemed to be a slight traffic jam in front of the elevators and she wished she could have taken the stairs. If only she knew where the staircase was without having to look for it and so drawing attention to herself. The security guard standing in the corner next to the huge leaved plant scanned her with his eyes and then looked away. Zoe sighed in relief. 

Of course employees of the hotel weren’t oblivious to escort service girls conducting business in their midst, but it was always advisable not to draw attention. This was her first time at the Drake and her face was as of yet unknown to the staff. 

Crowd in front of the elevators dispersed somewhat and she was grateful to be able to join a few people and take the next ride up. She was late and didn’t like that. She always considered punctuality a virtue and it was no different even in this particular line of work. 

If only she could calm down and stop being so very nervous. Granted, it had only been two months since she joined the Golden Coast Escort Service, but even so, having dealt with some fifteen customers in the past eight weeks, she thought she’d be feeling calmer by now. 

Once she’d laid eyes on the man her heartbeat would slow down somewhat. Her hands would stop shaking after she took a sip of the first drink that was inevitably always offered. This was not some side street operation, which is what she would never lower herself to anyway. 

It was only the means by which she would put herself through school. Waiting tables or mixing designer coffees at Starbucks was all nice and good, but it didn’t pay nearly enough and she needed a lot of time for her studies. An occasional fuck for money was much more profitable and it didn’t compare to the other jobs in time saving. Besides putting herself through school and having enough money for the rent, escorting also left her with plenty of means to indulge in luxuries that she couldn’t afford for the past two years. Luxuries like obscenely expensive green suede boots in one of the Bloomingdale’s storefront displays. She didn’t need them, of course, but she would have them now. 

She kept her eyes on the row of the rounded numbers over the sliding door, wishing that she were out of the claustrophobic little box. She discretely peeped at her companions and smiled at the young liftboy dressed in livery, reminding her of a monkey frequently seen in the movies with the story developing in exotic locations. 

‘Am I going to your room?’ She thought when her eyes paused on an obese, fifty-something man who struggled to breathe, clearly uncomfortable inside the tight suit and tie. ‘I hope not,’ went through her mind and she immediately regretted the thought. This particular man resembled her first John and he had been kind to her. He sweated too much and groaned too loud while fucking her doggie style and keeping an eye on the porn DVD, which he insisted they watched as foreplay. Despite that, he was nice and had tipped her generously on top of the price that had been prearranged by the agency. 

‘What about you?’ She looked at the tall and nervous, bespectacled man of undeterminable age with unruly mop of hair. He looked pasty as if the palms of his hands were continuously clammy, giving people a fishy squeeze when shaking their hands. He was wearing a wrinkled gray suit with a pink power shirt and a loud, abstractly patterned tie that didn’t match. ‘A salesman’, she concluded.

‘You?’ Her eyes landed on the last in the group, a tall, handsome black man with carefully dreadlocked hair. Even from afar she could smell the masculine scent of his cologne. He was an impeccable dresser with manicured hands and clothes that were obviously expensive. As if feeling her stare he turned and looked at her, giving her a wide smile. 

She blushed and looked away. Of course none of these men were her date. She mentally smirked over the unfortunate pick of the word. Even though everybody called it a date that would be the last she would describe it as. Rather a transaction for the services rendered or something to that effect, certainly not a date. The handsome man continued to stare at her and she became uncomfortably self-conscious. 

She didn’t look like a hooker, which was the client’s specific request. She was to wear normal clothes (she picked a light, flowery mini dress, very appropriate for the hot Chicago summer), no clown make up (light mascara and a few generous sprays of expensive perfume was all she went with) and basically she was to look more like a librarian than the prostitute she really was, even though she tried not to think of herself as such. Escort service was quite a misleading term. Out of all dates that she had had, only one required an actual escorting involving a cocktail party thrown by one of the biggest advertising agencies in the city. All the rest were purely about sex. 

Blow job, hand job, straight sex and anal, a client demanding to be called “daddy”, taking liberties of calling her “bitch” or “slut”. It had taken her a while to get used to it all, but now she found herself to be bothered by it less and less. A job like all the rest, it had its drawbacks, however, she was rewarded royally. 

The elevator stopped on the ninth floor and only after everybody present turned to her, she realized that it was her exit. She stumbled out into the corridor, feeling somewhat foolish. It was not a day for being clumsy, the careful orders of the client told her that much. He sounded like a no-nonsense man and she was determined to make the best of impressions. After all, she was still in the testing period as it was explained to her and she was to make no mistakes in order to be able to remain with the agency. 

Zoe looked to the left and then to the right as if checking out the invisible traffic. She tried to orient herself and inevitably took the wrong turn the first time around. Finally, having found the room number that was given to her by the agency, she slid the fake Gucci bag onto her shoulder, ruffled her hair and then smoothed it down and out of the habit rather than need quickly lifted one arm, took a sniff and did the same with the other one. Chicago was unreasonably hot this summer and sweating profusely was just an inevitable part of having to leave the cool confinements of her studio apartment. Satisfied that the scent of soap, deodorant and perfume were the only ones detectable, she took a deep breath, for a moment closing her eyes and softly rapped on the door. 

The hall where she stood knocking was quiet and free of any guests, which she was immensely grateful for. Sounds of television were all that was audible from one of the rooms farther down the corridor. She waited for almost a minute and then knocked again, this time with a little more force. Banging would be quite improper, she decided and she’d stand here for a few more minutes before she gave up and called the agency. She was certain someone was in the room, however. 

Just as she was about to try her luck for the third time, the door swung open, startling her. 

“Ah!” said the man standing in the room, clad in a white bathrobe, too thick for the oppressive heat that was enveloping the city outside. “You’re late!” he said and Zoe swallowed hard. 

“I’m sorry, the cab got stuck in the traffic.” She lied, unwilling to explain that where she lived not many taxies were about and it had taken her quite sometime before she managed to flag one down. 

“No matter! Come in, please.” Said the man in a very deep and husky voice with a melodic English accent, the combination of the three making it quite sexy to her ears. He was tall and athletic looking. Despite the thick bathrobe she got a feeling that he must have had a habit of vigorous workout. His black hair was short and slicked back; she noticed the water beads on his exposed skin. He must have just stepped out of the shower. 

Normally her dates were in the evening, this one was in the middle of the morning, making her feel somewhat odd. 

“Have a drink.” He pointed to the bar and a small fridge in the corner of the room, grabbing a towel and rubbing his hair with it. His dark eyes were measuring her up and down as if in judgment. 

“Would you like me to fix you a drink?” she asked as she headed for the bar. 

“Nah,” he said and laughed. His laughter struck her as odd. “I don’t drink for one, and I only need to get my rocks off before I head out for a dreadfully boring meeting.”

The statement made her wince. They were both well aware why she was here. She was simply someone to give physical pleasure without the annoying foreplay of dinner and courtship. No pretences of romance or even affection. She was a prostitute and she was well aware of it, but she hated when that was pointed out to her so bluntly. She would have to toughen up soon or it would get to her eventually, she knew that.

“I’m just having a Coke.” She said and bent over carefully, pushing her ass towards the man. 

“What’s your name?” Asked the man when she straightened back up. She turned around and found him standing a few feet away, still rubbing his hair and staring at her intently. She was satisfied to realize that he liked what he saw; it was evident in his almost black eyes. 

“What do you want it to be?” she asked and smiled, lifting the can to her lips and trying to look as seductive as a person possibly could drinking a soft drink. The feeling of foolishness overwhelmed her. 

“I don’t care one way or the other,” said the man dismissively and turned around, heading for the bathroom. “If you’re a good fuck, I might ask for you again. I always like to know what I’m getting, I’m not a very adventurous type.” 

All business, just like she thought and doubted his last statement was true. She also had a suspicion this would be straight sex, probably a blowjob to start off with, but no kinky shit that she was always afraid of. Especially at this time of the day, she didn’t feel like performing any exceptional athleticism. 

“I’m Zoe,” she hurried, taking a step after the man who by now disappeared into the bathroom. She mentally chastised herself for the clumsiness. Everything she did so far seemed to be off. The entire set of circumstance was playing against her confidence. The “job” taking place in the middle of the morning; the guy was very good looking, handsome really and obviously completely unfazed by the fact that he is just about to pay for sex. Many a time she would encounter her Johns nervous and behaving as if they didn’t quite know how to begin. Not so in this particular case. 

“Are you here on business?” she asked into the doorway of the bathroom, carefully scanning the bedroom where she stood. The make up dresser was full of small, exotic and inevitably expensive looking cologne, lotions and other things some of which she had no idea what they were.