Auctioned to Him 4: His Addiction

by Charlotte Byrd

  I don’t do what I do for money, anyway. I do it for me. I was never really one to stick with interests in high school and college. I dabbled in almost everything and made a lot of friends on the way in each club, but I never really got hooked on anything in particular. You do things, practice, get good at them, and then what? Nothing. Well, there is one thing that it is nice to be good at. That’s why I like being an escort. Each woman is different. Some like it rougher, and then there are some that need to be treated like tissue paper. Each client is different and I am very proud with how successful I am.

  I can see my tan in the mirror from our getaway weekend to Mexico. Spending two days there put 20 grand in my bank account. Not half bad if you ask me. I keep my prices high to sort the pearls from the clams in this business. If I charged anything less than what I currently charge I could get mange or Black Death or cooties or something. It costs a pretty penny to be with me for a very good reason. It assured both skill and quality to my clients and reassured me that I was getting the very same back.

  Pulling past the gate, I know there is only 5 minutes until I am officially home. They put so many speed bumps in a gated community to discourage people from driving around. It works pretty well, most of my neighbors have switched to bikes so their cars don’t have to learn Braille in order to commute to work. There are certain things that you have to deal with when living in a ritzy part of the town of sin.

  Really the longest part of getting home is the ride in the elevator up to my room. The penthouse is a billion floors up and there are several stops on the way between floors. People always forget this part in the movies, the downside with the glam. I have met a few clients in the past by hanging around the casino in the bottom. Since it’s my dad’s, all I have to do is get them a couple drinks on the house, slide my card over, and saying my line: “Your first win was getting this card, the next will be in that casino, and your third will be using my card with your new funds.” It’s cheesy and dumb, but that’s Vegas. This is the light and the life that people come for.

  Most of the people that work in this building feel one of two ways about me, they hate me or they love me. Some of that comes with me being the boss of them, the other part of their feelings has to do with me being the boss of me. No one likes playing by the rules, not even me. Fortunately for me, I’m not the one that has to worry about a pay check here.

  The life of the bachelor was very different from what TV shows had made me believe. The day time can be fun, especially with my job, but the nights were very lonely. I could come home with women from bars, but I hadn’t had a meaningful female companion in a long long time. Even just a friend would be nice, but I was surrounded by males. I think that since girls see that I’m sort of a smooth talker they think they can’t trust me. They see this pretty boy exterior, but I really have more going on than just looks. I want to know someone. I want to feel like a kid again. Being an adult could be very boring. I’ll save up all my escort money for a time machine.

  Grant

  Here is where I decompress. After all the stressors of the world and people, I can come here and be sure that all things are the same, that I am safe from my parents, and that I can listen to my music as loud as I want, which is exactly what I did.

  I flip on the stereo system as I walk in and grab a water bottle. This is part of the routine. In order to keep this body in shape staying hydrated is a must. You lose a lot of body fluids in the escort business, and that is the most vital part of being a human.

  So checking my email regularly is a must in this business of service. “It’s a business doing pleasure” is my motto. I take this as seriously as a doctor takes heart or brain surgery. I have to be thorough and efficient in order to keep my “I’m doing this for me” mindset. That’s what my ego rides on, which is dumb and vain but sometimes it pays to be vain.

  My first email is from my friend Alex and it’s marked urgent, which sends up two red flags. The first one is “Why is my gay friend using my escort email to contact me?” and “Why is it urgent?” I have a very open mind set, but not enough to let my good buddy pay for a night with me.

  * * *

  Grant,

  You’ve gotta help me. I’ve got a lonely girl who needs you as an accessory to her at her ex-fiance’s engagement party. It’s Travis’ roommate, and it would be doing me a solid.

  Alex

  * * *

  It was sent one minute ago, so I decided to text him back that I would take the deal, I just needed to know how long I would be needed for. I met Alex in a very similar way to this. It isn’t uncommon for young women to need a man to be a date for them. A large price to pay to rub it in the face of an ex, I guess. Alex was best friends with a girl who needed a date to a charity dinner, and we sat at a table together. There were many things he and I agreed on, and from there it has blossomed into a close and trusting relationship. He goes to the gym just as much as me and is around woman the same amount of time. If I were gay, maybe he would be the perfect guy for me, but for now Travis is filling those shoes.

  Travis is also very cool. He is similar to both me and Alex, so I give him my approval. I haven’t met him many times, since him and Alex aren’t technically dating, they are just seeing each other with plenty of sex peppered in between interactions. I imagine they have a similar sex life to me, just with a lot less contract signing and credit cards scanning.

  “A few days, not sure exactly how many. And her family will be there too.”

  “That all sounds fine.”

  “The only thing is, she is going through sort of a tough time, some kind of accident or something, I’m not sure what, I can get more details from Travis. He says that she won’t be able to pay your usual rates.”

  I sighed and paused. I would do anything for a friend, especially one as good as Alex. The money isn’t the priority for this job, but it’s what keeps my standards high and makes sure that my clients have the same standards. “How cheap are we talking?”

  “Her name is April. She thinks it costs $200 per night.”

  “Is she renting an escort or a birthday party clown?” For $200 dollars you could get a lot of things, a quality companion was not one of those things but many sexual diseases might be.

  “I know, I know. I’ll owe you big time. I wouldn’t ask if this didn’t sound like such a desperate situation.”

  “Okay, yeah, you owe me one. And this one can be free. $200 a night doesn’t even cover my utilities here.”

  “She won’t do it if she isn’t paying. You could be homeless for all she knows. If she has to pay she thinks you’re a decent guy.” This was starting to shake up my night quite a bit. Maybe I could put this charity work on my profile.

  “Could I talk to Travis about this?” Alex forwarded his number to me and I called.

  “Hello?”

  “So what kind of girl are we talking about? Is she 60 and riddled with herpes?” Travis snorted after I said this and excused himself.

  “Sorry, I have to leave this room really quick. She was right next to me.” Travis sounded a lot like Alex did but with a deeper voice and a lot less inflection. “April is a nice person. She’s been in some trouble recently.”

  “It sounds pretty bad.”

  “You have no idea. Emotionally, physically, spiritually she is hardly the same girl I knew before the accident.”

  “What accident?”

  “Minor car accident.” He coughed out quickly. “Don’t worry about that, we can get to that later. Point is, I’m the one paying rent most months, it’s that kind of bad. She really is a great girl, but she just can’t show up to her ex-fiancés’ new fiancées’ dinner alone and bent out of shape.”

  I sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I understand that.” I’m no stranger to marriages. After all, this is Vegas. Marriages and remarriages happen all the time. I once had a client who had 5 different husbands below her belt. This kind of stuff isn’t new to me. My parents even were both remarried, and happily so. I’m ha
ppy for them. I’m just still getting used to a new set of parents to nag at me.

  “You can keep her money to cover her rent, think of it as charity or a gift from me on Alex. $200 really isn’t enough to care about.”

  “Yeah, I know. I don’t think she knows too much about the whole escort system.” He snorted. “You guys can carve out more of the details later, I have to get back in there and lend a shoulder for crying.”

  “Alright, let me know if I can help in anyway.”

  “Thanks, Grant. I owe you one.”

  I clicked end and went back to staring idly out my window. The lights below flickered and blinked. It could make a seizure prone person paralyzed for life. I love this grimy, beautiful city. New tourists and people every day, different sketchy activities happening every minute, and the fresh smell of sweaty old gamblers and cheap hooker perfume was enough to make me feel at home.

  I was always up for new adventures and challenges. This event sounded like it was going to be a fairly mundane and tame way to experience a wedding that I have no bias for. Maybe it would be healthy to spend a lot of time with a woman who isn’t over a relationship. I could see what it’s like to be attached to someone. I’ve never experienced this personally, but it looks wonderful from the outside. Well, until you get to the bad parts.

  I’ve never had a healthy long relationship, and I’ve never been around one either. My parents were married for a long time, but it definitely wasn’t healthy. They were always fighting and had nothing in common. I often wonder what actually brought them together in the first place, and I’m sure they wondered that too.

  My brothers and I were all not surprised by the divorce. Several times they had separated and gotten back together, but it was final about the 5th time. They would cheat on each other and go weeks without seeing the other one. And then my mom met Mike and my dad met Tammy, and the rest was history. Not always happy history.

  Tammy is pretty young for my dad. She’s 32 to be exact. Dad has a type, and it isn’t one in his generation. And now they’re expecting a kid. When my mom heard, she practically moved into her plastic surgeon’s office. She started buying vats of anti-aging cream and filled up her Botox punch card. And the fact that Mike is more than twenty years older than Mom also doesn’t help matters.

  Despite appearances, my dad isn’t ecstatic about the new baby either. He isn’t exactly young. Tammy could very well be the result of his midlife crisis, but that has come with some collateral damage.

  I don’t mean to be bitter. I do love my family as individuals, but growing up in a house with all of them wasn’t a party. And it wasn’t exactly easy. People assume that wealthy people have the most luck and are always having a great time just because we have nice clothes, nice cars and nice houses. But we’re people. And people have problems. Even rich people.

  Maybe that’s what appeals to me about older women. They are straight up with you. They have had enough of men fucking around on them, so they aren’t about to let some young prick tell them what to do. Things are simple with them. They say and do what they mean. No games. No bullshit.

  Normally when I get back I would watch TV and catch up on the news, but I’m back late enough that all I can do is work out, shower and go to bed. Another one of the requirements for charging such a high price is being able to back it up with quality goods. I was always a little athletic but I had to make a very complicated work out and eating regimen to get in top shape for this business. I always made fun of those people that would eat a leaf of lettuce and then run ten miles a day, but sadly I have become one of them. I could conquer the high school prom queen at a non-eating contest.

  I don’t condone eating disorders. I think that they are horrible on a body and are a cry for help from anyone, but being disciplined is something different. If I weren’t sculpted I wouldn’t get the revenue and amount of return clients that I do. I don’t like this side of me, but it’s a side I have had to be honest about. No one is perfect, even if they try very hard to look it.

  April

  “Stupid beautiful Isabelle and her stupid long legs.” My fat around my stomach was soft to pinch in my fingers. I could see the stretch marks around my sides starting to turn from pink to white. “And stupid Tom and his stupid beautiful fiancé and their stupid happy picture on my stupid Instagram feed.”

  Travis came back in the room after his phone call and sat on the edge of my bed.

  “I have stretch marks now, Travis.”

  “You know, those are considered beautiful in some cultures.”

  “Not helping. They aren’t beautiful in this culture.”

  “No, really.” He started brushing my brown hair with his soft fingers. “People call them tiger stripes. It’s something you earn.”

  “That’s if you get pregnant.” I groaned and showed him the picture. “Look at these two stupid happy people.”

  “She is hideous.” He lied, smiling over at me. “Not nearly as pretty as you are.”

  “You mean not as pretty as I used to be.”

  “April, shut up.” That’s what gay best friends are for: living with and telling you to shut up. Travis has been the nicest through all of these changes recently. He was the first to offer to find a new place with me, the first to lend me a helping hand (with some money in palm) and the first to actually visit me in the hospital. “If you really feel that bad about a little weight go to the gym.”

  “I have been going to the gym.”

  “Well, go more then. And eat healthy.”

  I sighed again and rolled over. My laptop showed that I had a new email from Cosmo. I had been waiting by my laptop day and night waiting for a reply to my article I submitted.

  “Cosmo wrote back.”

  “Oh! Good news?”

  I opened the email. “Nope. They rejected it.” Apparently “How to please your man in Bed” was an overused topic and it needed more zest in order to be published. I groaned again, as that seemed to be my communication method.

  “I bet dumb Isabelle doesn’t have a bad day at work.”

  “What does she do?”

  “Dumb executive assistant for a dumb Universal Studios hot shot. Hopefully they have an affair and call off the wedding. And then dumb Tom can go to dumb Google and do whatever dumb thing he gets paid for and be unhappy at work.”

  “This dumb wedding.” Travis jabbed at me. He left my room and let the door creak behind him.

  “I bet she doesn’t live in a dumb ugly apartment” I muttered under my breath. Normally I wasn’t this ungrateful, I couldn’t even afford this apartment with how freelancing had been going as of late. Pasadena isn’t exactly cheap and the landlord won’t take my fat as payment.

  “Wait, where are you going? Can’t you see I need you?”

  “Sorry, doll. I have to go to this dumb audition to make dumb rent.” Travis was an actor, and supposedly a good one at that. Maybe that could be my next career move. I can play everyone’s fat best friend. “I’ll come home right after. We can get dinner and I’ll bring wine or something.”

  “Make it arsenic, or maybe just rat poison will do.”

  “Never lose that sense of humor, April.”

  And with that he was gone. I turned the TV on and tried to do some crunches while watching a reality show. Realities shows were great for making me feel better about having a personality and being a decent person while simultaneously making me feel horrible about my body. I often did a quick workout routine when watching TV since I wasn’t up early enough to do those morning yoga shows.

  After I was all crunched I flipped open my laptop and skimmed through all the freelance jobs available. I preferred article writing, pop culture and feeding into it really is my strong suit, but at this point I would take any job that is offered to me. I have written vacuum reviews, made lists until my brain has fallen out, and still I am too broke to pay for anything.

  This apartment is nice enough to live in but not nice enough to stay. As soon as I get a regular p
aying job Travis and I are out of here and into somewhere where the water comes out of the faucets completely clear and the paint isn’t chipping off of the ceiling. I will miss the inspiration that all the characters we live next to give me, but I won’t miss their loud banging or arguments or the elephants that live upstairs.

  I often think about moving away from the west coast, or at least just out of California. I don’t think that will ever happen though. It was hard enough to leave Santa Barbara when I had to. I was born and raised there, as was dumb Tom. Why does my family have to be friends with his family? How do you friend break up with a whole group of people that have been there through diaper changes and growth spurts?

  You don’t. And you can’t. The Middletons were closer family than some of my aunts and uncles. I should have known better than to have fallen in love with someone so close to everyone. They were there for the accident, but that caused the collateral damage of my un-engagement. Life has been more glamorous for me before than it is now. At least I worked off some of the extra weight.

  I got in this car accident. I’m fine now, but I was bed ridden and put on heavy pain medication for a while. I gained 70 pounds, and I have lost 30 of them. I’m still 40 pounds heavier than I want to be, and I’ve been at a plateau for a while now.

  I did another set of crunches in between applying for different article writing gigs. Hopefully some magazine would take as much pity on me as I have.