by York, Mattie
Chieko paused. For some reason, her instinct told her to slowly back out and close the door behind her, but she didn’t listen. Instead, she stepped into the room.
“Turn around,” Mr. Forester said. “And undress. Slowly.”
“Right here?”
“Do not talk. I will give the orders. You are here to obey. Is that understood?”
Chieko nodded and began to undress.
Mr. Forrester’s eyes followed Chieko’s every movement as she stepped out of her shoes and slid her dress off. Slowly, he circled a heavy gold ring around his little finger. She shivered as she stood naked and moved her arms to cover herself. “Don’t move until I say.”
Chieko bowed her head and dropped her arms down to her side.
“Turn around. Slowly. Bend over.” A shiver ran through Chieko’s body. She glanced up at Mr. Forrester, but he stared at her, unblinking. Slowly, she turned around and bent over, her arms dangling down to the floor.
“Yes. You will do. Please stand up.” He cleared his throat and leaned back into the leather chair. “Fix me a drink. Scotch on ice.”
In her bare feet, Chieko tiptoed across the cold floor to the mini bar. She caught her reflection in large mirror hanging on the wall and was shocked at how big and wide her eyes looked. They reminded her of the deer she used to watch when she visited Nara. On one of her many training appointments, she had stayed overnight on the temple grounds. In the stillness of the early morning she would wake up to see the sun rise. Sipping hot tea, she would sit in the window and watch while the deer that lived in the temple grounds would slowly, timidly, come out from their burrows and scavenge over the dew covered grass for the mornings’ first meal. As the sun rose, the temple gates would open. The deer would catch the first whiff of the tourists’ strange scent. Wild yet oddly tame, Chieko was always fascinated watching this inward debate, as the deer waited and watched. They were caught between their natural instinct to run and their learned knowledge of the freely given food from the hands of the tourists. Should they stay? Will they be safe? Or should they run away?
Dame, Chieko scolded herself. I’m too sensitive. Her last appointment had really rattled her. She was fine, she told herself. She wasn’t hurt. And she had gotten paid. When she had tried to explain to Angela what had happened, when she said it out loud, it didn’t really sound that bad.
“What? He said what?” Angela laughed. “Darlin, all men say crazy things in the heat of the moment. They can’t control it. I can’t guarantee all your clients will always be nice and polite, Chieko. Men are men. And as much as I hate to admit it, you have to be aware that it is a certain type of man that actually requests our services. You have to be prepared for a few challenges. That is what Ahmed is there for. You can call him at any time. He is there for your safety. But Chieko, darling, didn’t you just tell me last week that role play was fun? Isn’t that how you got Carl to relax for you?”
“Yes, but no.”
“Did Mr. Stromberg hurt you? Are you bruised? Injured?”
“No, he was, um, too big and he didn’t stop.”
“Oh honey,” Angela laughed. “My dream man! You should be grateful. Ok, I guess you are not used to so many different sizes. That is why I gave you oil, in your kit. Please, use it, Chieko. You have to look after yourself. Do you remember the positions I showed you. Put your hands under your back. Chieko, you have to remember, it might hurt sometime. You are very small, especially to a lot of men here in Canada. Now, I know maybe you are not used to some men’s size. Not everyone is the same size. It will take some time. But if you relax, it won’t hurt so much. And try practicing those exercises I told you about. You know the ones when you go to the bathroom?”
Chieko heard Angela lighting her cigarette. “Really Chieko, don’t you know that big men like small women? I don’t know why, but they do. That is why so many men are interested in you. You, my dear, are tiny and Asian. Some men adore that. It drives them wild. Even nice polite small men dream of dominating you. You are so naturally submissive. Like how you bow when you meet your clients. Carl Roberts told me about that. That’s what he loved about you. He said it made him feel like a king. Really, you are a jewel. Don’t worry about the crazy things men say. It’s only a bit of harmless fun, really. They don’t mean it. No one is going to hurt you. Don’t worry, I will take care of you. I take care of all my girls.”
Chieko opened the mini scotch and poured it over a few ice cubes. Fine, she thought, I need to be more tough. Angela didn’t say anything strange about this client, Saul Forester. She would have warned me if he was dangerous. He probably just wants to have me walk around naked. Some power fetish
“Stand here beside me,” Saul Forrester took the glass of scotch from Chieko. “No, move forward, face to me,” he guided her with his hand until she was standing beside the chair facing him, her legs just brushing the edge of the chair. Mr. Forester was well dressed in a black suit with gold cuff links that glistened in the light. His hair was dark black and slicked back with oil. He was quite handsome with dark olive skin. Maybe Italian, she thought, or maybe Egyptian?
She shivered as Mr. Forester caressed the outside of her thigh. His fingers were gentle, the heat from his hands giving her goose bumps as they slowly circled up her legs. Chieko stood silently as his fingers began to stroke her pubic hair, trying to ignore her own heat rising at his touch. He caught a few strands of hair between his fingers and tugged gently. Chieko gasped. “Soft,” he murmured, “but so black and straight. He sighed and wiped his hands on the edge of the chair. “This does not excite me, but, at least you are clean. Come here. Kneel down,” he uncrossed his legs.
Chieko’s stomach dropped. Men are so predictable. Mr. Forester took a sip of his scotch then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes while Chieko got to work. As she got into her well-practiced rhythm, she began to moan. “Quiet. You are not allowed to enjoy this. This is my pleasure.”
Silence filled the room and Chieko soon became aware of how long this was taking. Longer than usual. Of course, every man is different. Chieko added her hands and tried to increase the intensity. Damé. What if he is like Mr. Roberts? What if nothing happens? Have I lost my touch? But finally, Mr. Forester’s body started to tense up and his groin pulsated back and forth.
As Saul relaxed and fell back into the chair, Chieko sat up, stretching her back. Her legs had gone numb. She slowly tried to stand up. “Sit down. I did not say you could move. ” Chieko sat back on her heels and looked up at Mr. Forrester. He was staring at her again with his cold dark black eyes. Chieko shivered.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, tossing it onto the floor. “Now you can move,” he said then leaned back and closed his eyes.
Chieko crawled across the cold floor and picked up the envelope and then slowly stood up. She stood quietly by the door and quickly dressed. Just before she left, she turned back. Mr. Forester was staring at her. “You have done well.”
23
Dear Diary,
Chieko just called crying. Sometimes, I don’t know what these girls expect. I am not a babysitter. What are they thinking? All her clients aren’t going to be the same. Some will be nice teddy bears like that Mr. Roberts, others won’t. Tonight she was upset because her client, what was his name? Mr. Forrester, yes. He was mean to her. Can you believe it? Mean to her?? Oh and the one before, Mr. Stormberg, well he was too big? She doesn’t like how the men are treating her. Goddamned!!! She is tiny, petite and naturally submissive. Of course the men are going to want to pull a power play on her. Because she lets them. Stupid girl!!!!!
I thought I had explained this to her when she cried over that Stromberg man. Jesus Christ. Can you believe she was crying because he was too big! Oh my word. To be so lucky. Maybe I am being too harsh with her. It does sound like he tried a bit of dirty talk with her too. And she got hurt. Well she is tiny. Jesus to be so tiny! Can you imagine? Stupid bitch can go shopping and fit into EVERYTHING! Those damn zero si
zes. No extra-large for her. No ‘can’t wear this shirt cause it doesn’t fucking close over my gut’ for her. What the hell. And now she wants sympathy because men are crazy about her? Cause her thighs do not rub together when she walks and her stomach doesn’t curl up into massive rolls of pasty white fat.
But what I wouldn’t kill for one day, ONE BLOODY DAY to be able to walk into Zara and put on those gorgeous tiny dresses and look good, look damn good…….or…to walk down the street in a cute strapless top and not have to wear a crazy bra concoction with plastic straps. Imagine.. to not have to wear a bra at all and not end up with my boobs down around my ankles by the end of the day. Just one day. Man that would be the shit.
I tried to tell her nicely. Men love tiny women. And they aren’t always going to be gentle. Sex hurts sometimes. Shit! Maybe she didn’t understand. I don’t know. Maybe I didn’t prepare her very well. I didn’t tell her my story. To be honest, I didn’t think she would understand. I sure as hell didn’t want to scare her. To have her thinking that big ass black men will be hiding behind doors waiting to rape you. No, that would have done her in before she started. Funny how different girls need different motivations. I don’t know what she is expecting. But I can’t have her crying on the phone after all her appointments. Jesus. H. Murphy. What did she expect?
Sure, some of my clients are nice. I do check them out. I do. And some of my clients are dickheads. But they aren’t dangerous. And I have a lot of wonderful regulars. But she didn’t like them either. She hated that early Sunday morning gig. And that was a walk in the park. An hour for a bit of a suck with a cup of tea.
You know, there is only so much I can do. It takes a certain man to pay for sex. Your ‘nice polite small dicked man who respects women and just wants to talk’ ain’t going to be paying for sex. And paying quite a bit too. Nope. It will be your rich, married, kinky, freak of a man who needs lots of different women to flatter his ego or do stuff that his saintly wife on a pedestal is too clean to do. Yep, sorry to say, but most of my clients are not the honest cookie in the jar. They are basically all chicken shit, worthless sons of bitches with credit cards.
Just like my husband. Fuck. Moving on.
That bloody Joseph has been calling for Alex again. Every day he calls! What is up???? I told him she was busy. And the thing is, I know she likes him. Stupid girl calls me asking if he’s called. TROUBLE with a capital T. He asked me to save her for him. Can you believe that? I’ve played that game before mister. I don’t think he wants any other girls, just her. I asked him. Tried to book him with Amy. She’s close to Alex. Blonde hair. Pretty girl. But he is a single minded fucker. Too god damned trusting that Alex is. Probably buys all his bullshit. Probably thinks he’s some exotic love god. She is exactly what he is looking for. I knew it. Just watch. He will seduce her and take her away from the agency. And then I’ll have to find a new girl.
Fuck him. He’s not using my girls. I need that Alex for my other clients. She is a bloody gold mine. She is new. Naïve. Young. I’ve got tons of clients that need to see her. She needs to build up a steady nice roster of respectable men, regulars. This is not New York. We don’t have people flying in and out every day. And even if we do, clients are hard to get. Good clients. Nice clients. Clients that don’t make my girls call me every day in tears. Damn.
“Hello?” Angela answered her cell phone. “Oh, ok, yes. Thank you, “ she took a long slow sip of wine. Then, she picked up her cigarette case, lit one and leaned back. After a while, she wiped her eyes, put out her smoke and picked up her journal again.
God damned men. Stupid Pricks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Stupid fucker!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Can you believe that my beloved John. The VERY SAME John that got down on his knees and asked me to forgive him just a few nights ago, is it again!!!?!?!? FUCK HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I just knew it. It sure didn’t take him long. He gave me all that shit about sex addict therapist shit so I wouldn’t throw his sorry ass out the door. For the boys. Well the boys are old enough to know what a stupid prick their father is.
Fine. I am sorry. His real wife died. I got that. She was the love of his life. I was the escort. When he came to me, he was lost. I thought I could help. I thought he would love me. But damnit, you can’t love a goddamned block of wood. Stupid fucker. ME! I’m the stupid fucker for letting him talk his way into my bed again. Here I am fucking the fucker that is fucking the neighbourhood!!!!! And I look like a fool.
His secretary. Fine. I’ll give him her. I’m sure he’s still seeing her whatever he says. But Jordan’s mother? I didn’t see that coming. After all that sex addict shit he threw at me. “Oh Angela, I can’t live without you. I need us to be together again. You are my rock. You are my reason.” Fuck off somewhere. Stupid prick. Here I am thinking he is trying his best. Going to therapy. Taking the boys to hockey practice. And the stupid prick is fucking Jordan’s mother in the back of the truck while the boys are at practice! Jordan is Robbie’s best friend. They play hockey together. Can you believe this shit? Ahmed saw them. Just out the back in the parking lot. Anybody could have seen that! The boys could have seen that! What the hell was he thinking? No, that’s not sex addiction. That’s fucked up! Asshole needs his dick cut off!
I can barely write because I am so pissed. Lucky that man has the good sense to stay far away from me tonight. The fucker is out of this house. Gone.
24
“You are late. The appointment was for 3:00.”
“Oh, I am sorry,” Alex looked down at her cell phone. The time was 3:02. “Traffic was bad.”
“Never mind, you are here now,” Alex’s new client, Mr. Nimbin stepped aside to let her past. “Please come in.”
Alex let her arm brush against his as she walked into the room. She decided her best bet was to play the innocent naïve girl with this one. It usually worked like a charm with her older clients.
Alex barely glanced around the ordinary hotel room before sitting down on the corner of the bed. She leaned back and slowly crossed her legs showing off her new gold stilettos.
“Your shoes,” her new client pointed at her feet, “please take off your shoes over here.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She slipped off her shoes and handed them to the client, who gently placed them beside his on a towel just inside the entrance.
“You never know what germs or dirt you may have stepped in outside.”
“Yes, good thinking. I didn’t introduce myself, I am Alex,” she said reaching out her hand.
“Yes,” Mr. Nimbin frowned at Alex’s extended hand. “I’m sorry dear, but could I ask you to wash your hands first before I shake them?”
“Oh, ok.” she shrugged and walked into the bathroom.
“Am I correct to assume that you took a shower and brushed your teeth before our appointment?”
“Yes.” Angela was glad Angela had warned her about Mr. Nimbin’s fixation on cleanliness.
“And Angela did ask you not to wear any perfume? Sometimes, the smell of perfume really distracts me. You know, the chemicals they put in some of the cheaper brands, they can impair your sinus tissue. You can never be too safe you know. Once, I had to take the bus. This rather large lady sat beside me. She was wearing the worst perfume, one of those cheap knock off brands. I could smell it. More like a combination of windex and alcohol than perfume. I think she even sprayed it in her hair. It was so strong. It burnt my nose hairs.” Alex turned to take a new towel off the rack to dry her hands. “It did. Really. I couldn’t stop sneezing for days.”
“Don’t worry. I didn’t wear any perfume.”
“Wonderful. Ok, good. Please come and sit down.”
Alex followed Mr. Nimbin out of the bathroom. As she sat down on the side of the bed, Mr. Nimbin stood up, re-folded the crease in his pants and sat down again. “Well, dear, have you been doing this for very long?”
“Escorting? No, I’m relatively new.”
“Oh, that is good. I assume you always use a co
ndom?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Good, that is good. You can never be too safe,” Mr. Nimbin cleared his throat. “I am not sure how much Angela has told you about me. You know, I have never met Angela. Delightful woman over the phone though. Is she as delightful in person?”
“Yes, she’s great.”
“Um, I have been using Angela for quite a while now. You see, I am very particular. It is very important for you, my escort, to do things a certain way. How can I say this nicely? You are probably very good at what you do, but, well, don’t take this the wrong way. But I know about you escort girls. You are busy and you want to just come in here quickly, do the job, then take my money. You think if you look cute and tell me nice things, I will tip you. I know, it’s a great scam for you young girls. But not for me. I am not a sucker.”
“Oh. No, of course not.”
“And, I expect the full hour I pay for. Now, that being said, I must explain something to you. You see, well, I am not an average man. I know my body and I will expect you to, as well.”
“Ok, I’m sure I can please you. I am quite flexible if that is what you mean.”
“Oh, well that is impressive,” Mr. Nimbin raised an eyebrow. “But, no, that is not what I mean. I am glad you are willing to please. That will be helpful. I had Abigail trained perfectly. Do you know her?” Alex shook her head. “She knew exactly what I wanted. But sadly, she has moved on. She wanted a family. Can you imagine? A whore for a mother?” Alex bit her lip. “Oh, but the things she did for me, and she thinks she will make a good mother.”
Alex looked straight ahead. She dared not respond.
“Angela said you would be right for me, easily trainable are you?”
“What is it that you do, Mr. Nimbin?” Alex tried to change the subject.
“I am a comptroller.”
