by Lynn, Sandi
The Escort
Sandi Lynn
Contents
The Escort
Mission Statement
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
One Night In Paris
Chapter One
Books by Sandi Lynn
About the Author
The Escort
New York Times, USA Today & Wall Street Journal
Bestselling Author
Sandi Lynn
The Escort
Copyright © 2019 Sandi Lynn Romance, LLC
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Cover Design by Shanoff Designs
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Editing by BZ Hercules
Created with Vellum
Mission Statement
Sandi Lynn Romance
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Providing readers with romance novels that will whisk them away
to another world and from the daily grind of life – one book at a time.
1
Brielle
I walked into the Warwick Hotel in my black stiletto heels and short black dress. My eyes were covered behind large round black sunglasses, which complemented my long dark wavy hair, and my lips, which were painted a cherry red. The lobby was quite busy this afternoon, and as I strolled up to the front desk, I was greeted pleasantly by Joseph, one of the clerks that had known me for the past five years.
“Good afternoon, Emmy.” He began typing away at his computer. “Should I just charge the card that’s on file?”
“Good afternoon, Joseph. Always.” I smiled.
“Your key, Madame.” He handed me the card. “Enjoy your stay.”
I gave him a small smile as I took the elevator up to the thirtieth floor, slid my key card, and opened the door to the room I considered my second home: room 3010. After throwing my purse on the bed, I set my bag down and went into the bathroom to check myself one last time before my client arrived. There was a light knock at the door, and when I opened it, a man who was in his mid-forties and stood approximately five foot eight with short black hair and a light mustache nervously stood there.
“Hi, I’m Emmy. You must be Lawrence.” I smiled.
“Nice to meet you, Emmy.”
“Come in and make yourself comfortable.” I gestured with my hand.
He stepped inside the room and looked around. His hands were fidgeting, and I could tell he was a nervous wreck.
“First time?” I asked to try and ease his nervousness.
“Yes.” He turned and looked at me.
“How about a drink?” I asked as I walked over to the mini-bar.
“Sure. Got any bourbon?”
“Of course.” I lightly smiled as I poured him a glass. “So, Lawrence, how do you like being a dentist?”
He answered my question and we made small talk. I always liked to have a conversation with my new clients first to ease into what was to come next. He sat on the edge of the bed while I slipped out of my dress. I could see the beads of sweat form on his forehead. I hoped to god this guy wasn’t going to have a heart attack on me. I knelt down between his legs and softly brushed my lips against his, testing the waters, so to speak. He paid extra for kissing, so I needed to be sure he really wanted it. His hands nervously roamed to my breasts, which were covered by a black lace push-up bra.
“You’re a very beautiful woman, Emmy.”
“And you’re a very sexy man, Lawrence,” I spoke as my fingers unbuckled his belt.
After undoing his pants, I slid my hand down the front of them and grabbed hold of his semi-hard cock, stroking it softly and feeling it harden in my hand. He let out a moan and then grabbed my hand and pushed it away.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t think I can go through with this.”
I sighed as I stood up and then sat down next to him, placing my hand on his thigh.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on at home that drove you to contact me in the first place?”
“I love my wife. I really do. We’ve been married for fifteen years and haven’t had sex in over a year. She’s always tired, never feeling well, the kids drive her crazy, and we grew apart. I hate that it happened to us. We’re both so busy all the time between our jobs and the kids. Emmy, I’m starving for sex. A man can only take care of himself for so long. But despite all of our problems, I don’t think I can cheat on her. I thought I could come here, have a fun time with you, and go home. But the reality is, we haven’t done anything, and I already feel guilty.”
“Listen, Lawrence. I love that you love your wife, and you should. You have a beautiful family and so many wonderful memories. What you need to do is reignite your passion with her. Take her on a date. Get someone to watch the kids and go away for a long weekend. I can guarantee that if you make her a priority and forget everything else for a minute, the two of you will be having sex again. You two just need to rediscover what it’s like to be a couple in love. When was the last time you bought her flowers for absolutely no reason?”
“I don’t know. Years, I guess.”
“Then start there. When you leave here, stop at the florist, buy the prettiest flowers they have, take them home to her, and tell her how much you love her. Arrange for someone to watch the kids and take her to dinner. Don’t tell her about it. Just do it.”
He placed his hand on mine and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Thank you, Emmy. I’m going to do just that. I’m sorry that I wasted your time.”
“You didn’t waste my time, Lawrence. Just remember that my fee is non-refundable.”
“I know.” He smiled as he stood up, reached into his wallet, and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. “I know I already paid, but here’s a little something extra for being so cool about all this.”
I took the money from his hand, stood up, wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed his cheek.
“Thank you. You’re a good man, Lawrence, and your wife is very lucky to have you.”
After he left the hotel room, I changed into a pair of ripped jeans, a long-sleeved black shirt, and my black Converse. Grabbing my phone, I sent a text message to Ben.
“I’m leaving the hotel in about five minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting, Brielle.”
I grabbed my purse and my bag, put on my sunglasses, and walked out the door. Once I reached the lobby, I made my way to the front desk
to check out.
“Let me guess, he couldn’t go through with it?” Joseph smirked.
“No. He couldn’t.” I smiled.
“Enjoy the rest of your day, Emmy.”
“You too, Joseph.”
I walked out the doors of the lobby and climbed into the back of the sedan.
“That was quick.” Ben smiled as he glanced back at me.
“He was feeling guilty. I sort of felt bad for the guy,” I said as I took off my wig and pulled my long blonde hair back in a ponytail and placed a black Nike cap on.
I removed my green-colored contacts and placed them in their case as well as my false eyelashes. Taking the makeup remover wipes from my bag, I cleansed my face.
“Where to? Home?” Ben asked.
“No. I want to go to the shooting range for a while.”
“You got it, boss.”
Ben Riley had been my driver and one of my best friends for the past four years. He was a handsome guy who stood six foot four, black hair that he kept in a buzz cut, and a full beard and mustache that he always kept neatly trimmed. We met in a coffee shop when our coffees got switched. He grabbed mine and I grabbed his. Luckily, neither one of us had left yet. We exchanged coffees and got to talking. It turned out he had just lost his job as a driver to an influential family in New York City and was on the hunt for one. It just so happened that I had been thinking about hiring someone to drive me to and from my jobs. It was a win/win for both of us. He was a part-time artist who loved to paint and sculpt things. Unfortunately, what he did wasn’t bringing in much money, so he depended on another part-time job to fill in the gap. It didn’t take too long for us to become friends. He was my confidant and I could talk to him about anything.
Ben pulled up to the curb of the shooting range and I climbed out of the car.
“I’ll only be about an hour,” I said.
“I’ll be waiting for you.” He smiled.
I walked inside and saw Jimmy standing behind the counter.
“Hey, Jimmy.”
“Hi, Brielle. Haven’t seen you in a couple of weeks.”
“Life, Jimmy. Life.” I smiled as he reached under the counter and handed me my box.
Taking my lane, I put on my protective glasses and my earmuffs. Ejecting the magazine from my 9mm Glock 43 Caliber, I loaded it with bullets, disengaged the safety lever, aligned my eye with the target, and began firing.
“Damn, Brielle,” Jimmy spoke. “God help anyone who pisses you off.”
I gave him a smile as I stared at the six bullet holes that were perfect shots. After practicing for about an hour with moving targets, I unloaded my gun, packed up, and headed home.
“Have a good day, Jimmy. I’ll see you next week.”
“Looking forward to it, Brielle.”
I’d been going to the shooting range to practice for the past five years. Being a twenty-seven-year-old woman alone in New York City and in my profession, I needed to protect myself. In case you haven’t already figured it out, I’m an escort. Not just any escort, but a self-employed high-end escort. The men who acquired my services were generally the wealthy ones. Doctors, lawyers, hedge fund managers, CEOs, dentists, etc. You get the picture. Ninety percent of my clients were married. The other ten percent were those who had no interest in dating a woman but needed sex.
2
Brielle
When I was growing up, I never in a million years thought that I would become an escort. It wasn’t who I was. I was a bright and intelligent girl who got straight A’s throughout school, graduated as class valedictorian, scored the highest number on the SATs, and got a full ride scholarship to any college I wanted. I didn’t come from money. My mother was a single parent who worked two jobs, sometimes three, to try and make ends meet, and it still wasn’t enough. We lived in a tiny one-bedroom apartment where my mother slept on the couch.
When I was eighteen, and right before I was scheduled to attend NYU, my mother was diagnosed with cancer and had to undergo many rounds of chemotherapy. Because she was so ill and missed a lot of work, she was fired and lost the shitty health insurance she had right before she was diagnosed. I had to put college on the back burner so I could get a job and take care of her. The problem was, the job I got waitressing didn’t pay shit, even with the tips. She was getting further behind in her bills. Not only her everyday living expenses, but also the high medical bills that were rolling in. We were on the verge of getting evicted. I did the best I could, but it was never enough and we were both sinking fast.
One night, I ran into a woman named Marie who was having dinner with some people at the restaurant I worked at. When she stepped outside to have a cigarette, she saw me crying. She walked over and asked me if I was okay. I tried to play it off as if it were nothing, but she knew better. She got me to talk about my situation, and after she heard my story, she offered me some help. She told me how she was an escort and that she was getting ready to retire from it, but she didn’t want to leave her clients high and dry. She said I was a beautiful woman and asked me if I’d be interested in trying it out. I’ll never forget what she said.
“Listen, darling, you’ll make more money in one month than you do for an entire year working at this place.”
I didn’t have a choice at the time, and I knew it would only be temporary until my mother and I could get back on our feet. She coached me, taught me the ropes, and when I was ready, she sent me some of her clients. I hated it, but I loved the money. These men paid me well, which allowed me to pay off my mother’s medical bills and help us get back on our feet.
I escorted for two and a half years before I decided to get out of the business because of a man named Daniel. He was, or so I thought, the love of my life and swept me off my feet from the moment he looked at me. We dated for a month and trying to hide what I did for a living was difficult. As far as he was concerned, I worked as a home health aide with crazy hours. So I quit and ended up getting an office job as a receptionist working 9-5. We dated for about six months and I was happy. Happier than I’d ever been, until I got pregnant. The night I told him, he asked me if I was going to keep the baby. I was shocked that he would even ask such a question. When I told him yes, he hugged me and told me he was happy too. That same night, he went out to get us food and I never saw him again.
I gave birth to Stella when I was twenty-one years old. The company I worked for ended up closing its doors when I was on maternity leave. I took some time off looking for another job because I didn’t know what I was going to do with Stella, and needless to say, the little nest egg I had saved from my escorting days ran out quickly between living expenses, hospital bills, and schooling expenses.
As I sat holding her in my arms and stared down at her precious face, I knew I wanted to give her everything she deserved. She didn’t ask to be born and she didn’t deserve her father abandoning her. I wanted a better life for my daughter than what I had, so I knew what I had to do. Only this time, it would be different.
Once my mother went into remission and was cancer free, she got a job as a secretary in a real estate office. She worked the normal 9-5 hours and made barely enough to support herself and help me out. I could change that for her. So after having a long conversation, she agreed to quit and take care of Stella while I worked. This time around, my job wasn’t the couple of hours here and there. Sometimes it consisted of two, maybe three-day weekends. But that was where I drew the line. I was never gone more than three days at a time. And when I came home, I didn’t work for three days so I could spend all of my time with Stella.
My mother knew what I did for work. We never kept secrets from each other. And even though she didn’t like me getting back into escorting, she knew I had to do what was best for Stella. Plus, she liked the money I paid her and the apartment I put her up in.
“Mommy.” Stella smiled as she ran into my arms.
Picking her up, I hugged her tight.
“Hello, baby. How was school?” I asked as I put her
down.
“Fine.”
“Just ‘fine’?” I patted her head as we walked to the car.
“It was kind of boring. Hi, Ben.” Her face lit up.
“Hello, little lady.” He grinned.
We climbed into the back of the car and Ben shut the door and drove us home.
“Take your backpack to your room,” I said as we stepped inside. “What do you want for dinner?”
“Surprise me,” she said as she took off down the hallway.
I walked to my office, where I found my friend and personal assistant, Sasha, sitting behind her desk.
“How did it go?” she asked as she looked up from her computer.
“He couldn’t go through with it, so we just talked. I told him to take his wife on a date and buy her some flowers.”
Sasha let out a laugh.
“I’ll flag his account in case he wants to book you again,” she said.
“Good idea, but I don’t think he will.”
“Mr. Willows called and booked you for next weekend. Friday-Sunday. He has an event in Texas he needs to attend. He’s flying you out Friday morning and you’ll be back Sunday night.”
