Selling Satisfaction

by Ashley Beale

  Which is why I'm nervous now. I know there isn't a reason in the world she'll find out I'm about to spend an hour in a hotel with a prostitute, but I know if she did find out, it'd kill her. She shows a tough exterior, but I can tell she's weak when her feelings are involved, which explains her solid concrete walls. I've bulldozed my way through one of them, but there are many to go. I'm nervous as all hell that she'll find any reason to start layering the damn concrete blocks back up.

  Eyeing the mini bar, I decide that maybe I do want a drink. Part of my ploy is to act drunk anyways, and I had planned on having one or two beforehand, but I got caught up at the office.

  Walking over, I grab a glass tumbler, filling it with a scoop of ice. I drown the cubes in the amber liquid. I hover the Coke above it, then place it back down, taking the straight shot of whiskey instead. It slightly burns my throat but the fire feels relaxing, and I can feel as it starts to warm through my veins. This is what I needed to calm my nerves.

  With a relaxing sigh, I shuffle back over to the bed, just in time for the door to open. The woman has unruly red hair, that she purposely mused to look like she just got fucked. She takes a few strides forward, smiling seductively at me. I'm not a fan of redheads, but I can admit she isn't exactly bad looking.

  "Hi," she purrs. "I'm Mona." She unsnaps her jacket, letting it slide from her arms before tossing it over to a chair. She adjusts the strap to her tank top, which slid down- I assume on purpose, because her black laced bra strap is evident. She looks down as she slowly places the strap in place, then runs her hand across the front of her, making sure her fingers glide across the voluptuous curves of her breasts.

  I can admit, they're distracting. What guy wouldn't want to look at that? I remind myself that she's a whore, she gets paid to be seductive, so I clear my throat and look away. "Hi," I reply nervously. I'm supposed to play the part of someone who is apprehensive. I guess it's a good thing Brenna is keeping me on edge, without even knowing it.

  "Michael, correct?" She steps closer.

  I look up as she runs her teeth against her plush bottom lip. She eyes me curiously, waiting for a reaction from me. I clear my throat before speaking again. "Yeah, I'm Mike. I, uh... this is my first time. Mind if I have a drink?"

  "As long as you pour me one." She runs her fingers along my chest as I step around her, then she takes a seat on the bed behind me. I have to inhale a breath of air to cleanse my nerves.

  This is fucking ridiculous. I shouldn't be feeling seduced. I told that Kandy Ginger chick that this wasn't about sex, this was about conversation. Maybe this is how Mona eases her way into conversation, but it doesn't seem fair to me.

  "Coke and whiskey?" I ask after the whiskey is already poured.

  "Perfect. I love when my drinks are strong... soothing..." When I turn around, she eyes me up and down, adding in the word, "Delicious. Kind of like my men."

  I hand her the drink, standing away from her. "Were you, uh, told how today would be?"

  Pulling the cup from her mouth, she perks a brow up. "I did. You want to talk. You're a recent heartbreak." She stands from the bed to place her glass down, walking over to run her hand along my shoulders behind me. Her mouth comes up to my ear. "You know, I can find other ways to mend that broken heart."

  "I... I know. I'm not ready for that though."

  She continues to glide her hand across my body, keeping it above the belt. This isn't Brenna, and it doesn't feel right. "Oh baby," she continues in her overly sweet voice. She stands in front of me, placing both her hands on my chest, curling the fingers so she can slightly dig into the fabric of my pocketed tee-shirt. She runs her fingers downward, stopping at the buckle on my jeans. "The best part of my job is helping handsome, rugged men like yourself feel better. I can make you forget all about whoever it is that you're yearning over. If you don't want to fuck-" her hand goes down to cup my dick in her hands- "I can certainly use my mouth. Once you're being pleasured, all your stress and nerves will disappear."

  I have to repeat in my head that she probably has chlamydia in order to keep my focus so I don't start becoming erect. I am a guy after all, it doesn't take much to get turned on. Reaching over to place my glass on the shelf near me, I then use my hands to remove Mona's from my body. "That sounds good, it really does, but I'm not ready." I put on my farce of being nervous, when in reality right now I'm more annoyed.

  She pouts her lip for a second, then pulls her hands back to adjust her shirt once more. "Okay, sweets. I'm sorry about that. It's just..." she looks me up and down before licking her plump lips. Which look fake. "Have you seen yourself? Hot damn, Mikey boy, you look... delicious." She eyes me once more before taking a seat on the bed. I stand hesitantly near my drink. "What's going on? What you want to talk about?"

  Reaching for my drink once more, I wash the liquid back. One more drink and I will probably feel a lot better, maybe even slightly buzzed. I walk over the mini bar to make a third and final drink. "I don't even know what I want to talk about," I tell her, stirring the Coke in. Turning to look over at her, I go along with what I've been rehearsing for the last few days. "I'm torn. I loved my fiancé, I thought we were great together, but she wasn't at all reluctant in screwing my best friend. This fucking sucks." I wash down the lies with more booze.

  "Oh honey, I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure it had nothing to do with her feelings for you though. Have you spoken with her about it?"

  "Nope. Fuck that. I lit a bunch of her shit on fire outside the house, threw the rest in a box at the front door, and left it at that."

  She rolls her eyes. "You're one of those fellas, I see. Take your frustrations out by being aggressive." I notice how she looks me over with her words- she wants me to be aggressive on her. I wonder if this is how she is with every guy that walks through the door, or if I'm special somehow. Maybe that's why she's good at this job and came recommended by Ginger, because she's certain to make whatever person is in a room with her feel like the only one in the world.

  For the money she's getting paid, that's how it should be.

  Except, I don't like her pushing herself on me like that.

  "I get pissed, I get even, then I get the hell over it. Nothing to be ashamed of."

  "I ain't saying there is. There are simply different types of men, ones who are aggressive, others who are passionate, ones that keep it all locked in, others that are freaks. Personally, I enjoy the dominance of a man. Drama and yelling and ignorance being spewed, it all makes for fun in the end. Nothing is better than make up sex. Nothing."

  "So you have relationships... beyond work?" I ask, surprised with her honesty.

  I watch as she relaxes some. With a small laugh, she nods her head. "Sure I do. What I do is fun, but I wouldn't do it if it meant I couldn't ever fall in love."

  "No offense, but how do you do that? Love one person while screwing others."

  "Sex is great, everyone loves it. We're mesmerized by it at a young age, and we think about it almost daily in one form or another until we're dead and gone. It's brought up in movies and video games, music and novels. It sells products. It's both forbidden and discussed openly, there are magazines and production industries strictly based on it. Life is about sex so often. Now replace everything I said with love. We're mesmerized by it at a young age, think about it daily, yada yada. Get it? They're both one in the same, except they have absolutely nothing to do with one another."

  "So you're saying you can love one person and have sex with another? There isn't anything wrong with that?"

  "No offense, but isn't that what your girl was just doing? Just because she was boinking your bestie, doesn't mean she doesn't love you until eternity."

  I rub my eyes as I attempt to process what she's saying. "I don't know, I feel like love and sex go together too much. You don't have to love someone to have sex with them, however if you love someone, shouldn't they be the only ones you have sex with?"

  "Fuck no," she barks out with a laugh. "Monogamy is great if
that is what you and your partner both want. If you two can go at it like animals, and love each other unconditionally, and be honest with one another about absolutely everything, that is incredible. It's also rare. There are such things as orgies, and sister wives, and swinging, and well... escorts... for a reason. People can love a person and love sex with other people. In fact, it's quite common. Even those in loving, committed relationships discuss bringing in another partner at least once or twice, or maybe give out a hall pass. It's part of life. Even in the bible thumping days it was known for men to go out and find pussy elsewhere. It's gonna happen." She shrugs like she didn't use the words bible and pussy in the same sentence.

  Honestly, her logic is hard to argue with. The more she speaks, the more a part of me realizes she’s actually somewhat correct. Even so, I can't fathom the idea of having a girlfriend or wife, and knowing they're banging some other dude- or multiple guys- behind my back. I also can't imagine cheating on someone I love.

  "I don't know," I sigh. "It makes sense, but it doesn't."

  "Nothing in life makes sense, does it?"

  "How are you so smart?"

  Her eyes narrow. "I'm an escort so I can't be smart?"

  "I didn't mean it-"

  She waves her hand to dismiss my apology. "I get it. I'm judged easily. We all are. I was raised much different than this. My Daddy was actually a pastor back in Georgia- can you believe that?" She snickers softly over the idea. "He's probably turning in his grave at what I do. He passed away when I was fifteen, my Momma took it hard. She was a housewife, nothing more than that. We moved in with my Gramma after that, sold the house, but even so we struggled with finances, which meant college was a no go. I wanted to be a lawyer, so I started finding side jobs here and there. I made it two years in college all on my own when I found Kandy, she offered me a job I couldn't refuse, and here I am a few years later. Loving life and the decision I made."

  I can't lie when I say that all surprises me greatly. "You're not scared to be alone with strange men all hours of the night? I'm sorry, not trying to intrude, I'm honestly curious. I would be scared if it were my daughter or sister or something." Everything is going much better than I had expected it to. Maybe I am making her feel comfortable enough that she can give me even more than she already has. Not to mention, I am actually curious.

  With a shrug, she thinks for a second. "Well, Kandy does investigate everyone a bit, does a background check and all that. If she's even at all scared for our safety, she hangs around the hotel or has one of her men. I've been pushed around more than I enjoy, yes, but never anything I couldn't handle. My girl, Chasity, though... damn. I felt bad for her last week. She met with a new client that beat and bruised her head to toe. She didn't even come to work for a week. She's back at it though. Bless her heart. It was a first for any of us since I’ve been doing this."

  Chasity. The one that Kandy wanted to set me up with originally. I'll find a way to talk with her next time. Kandy did say she was more suiting to my enjoyment or some shit like that. It pisses me off, escort or not, how a man could ever put his hands on a woman in that way. I think of Brenna and how she looked that day coming off the elevator, and it still fucking kills me- especially not knowing why. She didn't give Emily any hints towards it, and I didn't dare bring it up again.

  "That's fucked up," I reply. "They arrest the guy?"

  "Nope. She wouldn't allow it. She's a stubborn one, but that’s why I like her. She came from a tough background, unlike myself, and she has built herself a backbone as a result."

  "Got to admit, I was skeptical about this all. One of my buddies recommended Kandy and I almost didn't show. Thank you for being someone I can talk to." I rehearsed that same exact sentence at least two dozen times, but I didn't think I'd ever actually mean it. Not because I agree with her logic or what she does for a career, but for the simple fact she has actually given good advice and seems easy to talk with.

  She reaches over to touch my knee softly, looking up with me. "You change your mind about ever wanting me to pleasure you, you make it known. Until then, I'm glad a simple conversation made you feel better. Ready to go take back your girl now, or at least talk it out with her?"

  "I can't," I answer with a head shake.

  "Why not?"

  We get talking about my fake fiancé and our fake breakup until our time is up. By the time I leave, I want to urge her to go back to college and make a real difference in people's lives. Be that lawyer she desperately sought out to be. Stop getting wrapped up in people's lives, and stop selling her body to undeserving men. Our small time together gives me a protectiveness over her, one I can't do a single damn thing about because my job is to take her and everyone around her down. To stop all of this. It's not going to be easy- but it never is. My job isn't stressful, it's pure exasperation- and that's on a good day.

  Arriving home that night, Emily sits on the couch reading a magazine. Her bags are packed, ready to head back home tomorrow morning. She doesn't even look up when I walk through the door, but she makes a sniffling sound. "You smell like a hooker." She pinches her nose in disgust.

  Smelling my shirt, I look over at her curiously. "How can you tell?"

  Still not looking up, she points to her stomach. "Pregnancy. Acute sense of smell."

  "Got it," I say with a nod. "Then I'm going to go shower."

  Just as I get to the bathroom door, she yells out to me. "I had dinner with Brenna tonight." I can't move any further.

  After a second, I back my walk up until I'm into the living room. "What? Why?"

  "I was lonely. You worked late." She looks up at me finally, glancing me over. "Well, you said you were working late, but according to how you smell, I'd say you were doing something else."

  Narrowing my eyes at Emily, I cross my arms over my chest to tell her I mean business. "I have a job that requires undercover work I can't tell you about. You know that. Now, about dinner."

  "What about it?"

  "Em."

  The same as when she was sixteen, she gives an annoyed sigh, placing her magazine down next to her. You would think simply placing a magazine down would take all the effort in the world. I'm not sure what frustrated Emily today, but she's not in the best of moods. I hope that dinner with Brenna went good, but she isn't giving me a good vibe right now.

  "I was bored, so I went up to her place to see if we could do dinner together. She was all about it. We ordered takeout pizza and breadsticks, and it was delicious. I have heartburn now, but that’s to be expected. That about sums it up."

  "Em."

  "What?"

  "What did you talk about?"

  She grins. "Oh, you think we talked about you? Sorry to break it to you, you were never mentioned."

  "That's a lie."

  "Is it?" She stands up to stretch. "I'm tired, I'm going to bed."

  She starts to walk towards the bedroom, but I don't let her get past me, putting my arm out so she can't go down the hall. "Spill."

  "Your nephew is tired. Let me through."

  "Emily, my nephew is in your stomach, it doesn't matter if you sleep or not, he's resting just fine. Why are you angry, and how did dinner go? Talk to me."

  She rolls her eyes. "Honestly? I'm annoyed you worked so late. That I didn't have you here for dinner." I can hear the break in her voice, like she is holding in a cry.

  "Are you going to cry?" I ask. I try to make it known I'm truly concerned for her. She should know I'm always here for her. She rolls her eyes a second time. A telltale sign she is in fact going to break down, but she's trying to hold it in. "Because I worked late? There is obviously more going on. What is it?"

  "Sebastian," she whines. Turning, she heads back to the couch and angrily sits, not looking up at me. She stares off at the fire place I have- that I'll probably never use. I take the seat adjacent to her. "He has been working late. And for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why it annoyed me. I mean, he's being fatherly and working overtime, and he's always
exhausted and still comes home to cook and help me clean. I have been working too, and I'm exhausted too, but I can truly see the toll it's taking on him." She looks up at me finally, tears brimming. "Then I got talking with Brenna tonight and explained how our finances are the same yet he's putting in twenty hours more a week. It all hit me as we were talking about it. He isn't working overtime, because he too comes home smelling like cheap perfume. He's having an affair. Isn't he?"

  I'm at a loss for words. I want to defend Sebastian, because he's a good dude and I never in a million years pictured him to hurt my sister that way, especially while she's pregnant. I want to tell her she is pregnant, so she's probably over reacting. I want to tell her there is no way in hell anyone could ever do that to her. Then I think about my previous conversation tonight with Mona, and I remember what she said about love and sex and how often people cheat. That it's normal for some.

  "I don't know," I say after a second. "I don't know Emily. What I do know is that when you get back tomorrow, you need to be straight with him. Talk to him about it, figure it out. Don't accuse him, ask him."

  "What if I don't want to?" she asks. "What if I want to live a lie with him? I can't lose him, not when I'm pregnant with his child."

  People can love a person and love sex with other people. In fact, it's quite common. Mona's words echo in my mind. I can't repeat that back to Emily. I can't encourage her to stick with him, at least not without direct answers. She's fucking pregnant for Christ's sake. I'm ready to hop in the truck and make the drive back to Virginia to knock some damn sense into him.

  Not knowing quite what to say or even how to react, I ask, "How long has this been going on?"

  "He picked up hours about three weeks after we found out I was pregnant. Maybe I'm delusional. Maybe he's putting the extra money away into a separate account, maybe the perfume is a female from his job that also works late. I don't know. I'm pregnant and hormonal and insecure about this shit." She stands up, running her hands over her pj’s, smoothing them out for absolutely no reason. "You're prepared to drive me to the airport at five thirty?"