Breaking Into the Business (7 page)

When
I couldn’t handle anymore, I reached down and grabbed his shoulders, trying to
distract him from his current action and to bring him up closer to me. Finally,
he reluctantly relented and worked his way back up.

He
leaned in to kiss me again, but I held a finger up to stop him. He looked at me
questioningly, but I just shook my head. I reached up, placed both of my palms
on his chest, and then pushed him over.

Landing
against the mattress, I could see a smile develop on his face. Unlike me, he
knew a lot about sex, and it didn’t take a scientist to know what I was about
to do.

I
began by kissing his chest, working my way over each side, before I started
kissing his abs as I worked my way down. When I reached his waist, I started
rubbing my hands over his muscular thighs, feeling the soft tufts of hair
between my fingers.

Moving
past his waist, I knew that this was the point of no return. Frank had enjoyed
oral sex when we were married, but only if I performed it on him. Returning the
favor was a rarity reserved for only the first couple of anniversaries, but never
in the latter part of our marriage.

For
Greg, I felt like I would do anything. As I moved closer, I could feel his
manhood sliding along my chest, between my breasts until it was level with my
face. Then I took him in my mouth.

I
hadn’t done this in a long time, even longer ago than the last time I had had
sex. Never before had I enjoyed it so much. It went beyond the mere physical
sensation for me. The real thrill was from the way that I was making him feel.
All night long, he had been the aggressor, but at that moment, I had full
control. Now he was the one arching his back in pleasure, moaning and rubbing
his own stomach. As he writhed on the bed, caught up in feeling of rapture, I
began to grow so aroused.

I
needed him. I needed the feeling of him inside of me to complete this union
that we had begun earlier in the night. I let go of him and worked my way back
up. I didn’t make it very far, before he grabbed me and pulled me over onto the
bed where I lay before.

Before
I knew what was happening, he was on top of me. It was strange, because I could
feel him pressed against every inch of my flesh, but never did I feel the
claustrophobic sensation of being crushed. No, it was a beautiful feeling to
have his chest against mine, his face exploring my neck, and his hands pinning
my shoulders down.

With
strong powerful legs, he pushed in between mine and separated them. They were
flung open and his pelvis ground down on me. In one thrust, I could feel him
enter me. I would have thought that I would need time to accustom myself to the
entry, but my hunger overcame my trepidation, and my body seemed to invite him
in.

Chapter Six

As I
awoke, it took me a moment to realize where I was. Greg’s apartment. We had
stayed up late into the night, but when I finally rested my head on his chest,
sated from the strenuous physical activity that had seemed to go on and on
without end, I fell deep into sleep.

I
sat up first and looked around. His bedroom looked different during the day. As
the sun shot through the gaps between his curtains, it hit various places
around the room, showing just how immaculate his place was. I was immediately
taken aback at how clean and organized a bachelor’s place could be without the touch
of a woman. I had a housekeeper that stopped by twice a week and his place
looked better than my house ever had.

I
flung my feet over the side the bed, and as I stood, I felt the soreness down
below. It had been a while since I had had sex, and my body was telling me that
doing it four times in one night was not the way to ease back into it.

His
bathroom was even cleaner, if that was possible. I took care of nature’s call
and then walked back into the bedroom. I passed his dresser and glanced in the
mirror, realizing that I was still naked.

My
face flushed red and I ran towards the pile of my clothes in the corner. I
grabbed my skirt first and I was trying to step inside to pull it up when Greg
stirred.

“What
are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m
getting dressed,” I said, rolling my eyes that I even had to answer.

“Nonsense,”
he said. “Come back to bed.”

“I
really should be going,” I said.

“You
don’t have a few more minutes?” he asked.

“No,
I really should be going,” I said.

The
alcohol had worn off and now I could see the full picture of what I had just
done. Basically, the night before, I had met a man, let him make out with me on
the dance floor, and then went home and had sex with him four times. All of
this leading up to the sex had only taken thirty minutes. The only word I could
use to describe myself right then was whore. I could crawl into a hole and die.

“What’s
wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,”
I said quietly.

He
pulled the covers back and stood up from the bed. He wasn’t wearing a stitch of
clothing, and somehow, despite the fact that I had seen him naked the night
before, this fact embarrassed the hell out of me.

I
was trying to buckle my belt when he reached me. Embracing me in a hug, I gave
up on trying to get dressed for a moment, and let my body sink into his.

“Are
you regretting last night?” he asked.

I
thought about it and realized that I was not. “No,” I said. “I’ve just had this
problem where I didn’t know how to initiate things with a man. Now I realize
that I’m being faced with that again. Last night, I had the alcohol and my
friends pushing me, but now this morning, I’m completely sober and it’s just
you and me.”

“It
was just us last night, too,” he said with a smile. “You were doing just fine
then.”

“We’re
in the daylight now,” I said. “That’s different.”

“Not
really,” he said. “If you think about it, it’s the same, just at a different
time.”

“I
hear what you’re saying,” I said as I pulled away from him and reached for my
shirt. “I just have to work through this. I know that I can become comfortable,
but it’s just really hard. I appreciate you being so patient with me.”

“It’s
no problem,” Greg said. “It’s all a part of the job.”

I
laughed, although I didn’t quite get what he was alluding to.

“But
seriously,” I said. “You were great.”

“You
were, too,” he said. “I just can’t believe we went for so long.”

“Me
either,” I said. “You were able to go four times.”

“I’ve
had a few clients that wanted to go that long before, but it’s been a while,”
he said.

I
stopped buttoning my shirt and dropped my arms down by my side. Watching his
face, I tried to find some hint that he was joking or maybe it was just that I
hadn’t caught the reference.

“What
do you mean?” I finally asked.

“I’ve
had clients that wanted to extend the normal time,” he said. By the look on his
face, he was also clearly confused.

“Clients?”

“Yeah,
clients.”

“Clients
for what? You sell real estate or something?”

“Oh
no,” he said. He plopped down on the bed and put his head in his hands.

“What’s
wrong?” I asked.

“I
can’t believe this,” he said. “I should have known that you didn’t understand.”

“Understand
what?”

“Lana,”
he said, looking back at me. “I have to tell you something, but please don’t be
mad at me.”

“What
is it?”

“I’m
an escort.”

“What?”

“Like
a man who accompanies women on dates,”

“And
has sex with them for money,” I finished the sentence. How could I have been so
stupid to think that a man might genuinely be interested in me?

“Don’t
think about it like that,” Greg said, holding his hands out.

“Seriously?”
I looked at him incredulously. “I just slept with a prostitute.”

“I
prefer escort,” Greg said.

“Oh,
my god,” I shook my head. Maybe if I went back to sleep, I’d wake up in my own
bed and this whole thing would have been another one of my crazy sex dreams.

“There’s
nothing to be ashamed of,” Greg said. “I’ve had countless women hire me, and
not all of them are the desperate freaks that you imagine they are. Some very
attractive, put-together women call me.”

“Are
you saying that I’m one of those miserable, un-put-together ones?”

“Come
on now, Lana,” he said. “You know I didn’t say that.”

“So
how much do I owe you?”

“My
normal rate is two hundred dollars an hour,” Greg said. He looked at me for a
moment, studying my face, and then he spoke again. “Actually, don’t worry about
it.”

“No,
I want to pay what I owe.”

“No,
seriously, don’t worry about it.”

“Look,”
I said, no longer bothering to hide the fact that I was exasperated and embarrassed
by this whole ordeal. “I need to leave here with some shred of my dignity. The
fact that I slept with a gigolo and now owe him money is bad enough, but now you
want to give me a freebie.”

“Don’t
look at it that way,” he pleaded. “Seriously, we’ll just look at it like two
people who met and had a great time. My profession should have nothing to do with
this.”

“Except
for the fact that you just tried to charge me.”

“I
wasn’t trying to charge you.”

“You
weren’t?” I stared at him. “This is so completely humiliating. I really just
want to leave. Just tell me what my total is.”

“Zero
dollars,” he said, forcing a smile.

“You
are pissing me off,” I said. “Tell me the amount.”

“No,”
he said. “I won’t do this.”

“We’ve
already done
this
,” I came back quickly. “So just spill it.”

Luckily,
I had already finished getting dressed, so that as I stormed out of his apartment,
I was decent. As I rushed through his living room, I noticed a card on the bar
top with his name on it. For some reason that I could not fathom, I grabbed the
card and stuffed it into my purse as I left.

As
far as I was concerned, he could drop off a cliff. How could he have been so
deceptive? Was that how he turned most of his tricks? I could just see him
going to that bar, night after night, looking for the loneliest woman he could
find and then preying on her and taking her home, only to give her the bill
once they were finished.

I
walked out onto the street and waited a few minutes for a cab to come by. As I
flagged the taxi down, I turned and looked back at his apartment, and a small
part deep inside me felt a pang of sadness that he had not come out to try and
catch me.

I
had heard of the walk of shame many times, but the cab ride back to my car had
to be even worse. I sat in the backseat, miserable to the point that it was all
I could do hold the tears back. I felt used and dirty, like one of those
country town service station bathrooms. How had I sunk so low?

The
cab took me to my car, which was still parked where I had left it the night
before in the parking lot of the bar. From there, the trip to my house didn’t
take long at all, since luckily it was early enough that traffic was minimal.

When
I arrived home, Betsy’s car was in the driveway. I rolled my eyes and thought
about driving to the nearest airport so that I could board a plane to take me
far, far away from here. I knew that even if I tried to hide the facts of the
night before and this morning, she would wring it out of me like a wet rag.

I
fumbled with my keys before the lock finally gave in. I tried to open the door quietly
so that I wouldn’t wake anyone. As I gently shut the door, I listened for any
noise in the house and heard nothing. Maybe I could get into my room and in my
bed before Betsy or the kids woke up, and then I wouldn’t have to face the
inevitable shame.

As
I walked into the kitchen, someone cleared their throat.

Betsy
sat up from the couch, a smile already forming on her face. She stood up and
straightened out her skirt and with one flip of her head, her hair had settled
back into place.

“How
do you do that?” I asked her, pointing at her head.

“Lots
of money, dear,” she said without a hint of jest in her voice. “Now, go change
into something a little more appropriate for the morning after, and I’ll make
us a pot of coffee.”

“Okay,”
I said and headed towards my bedroom.

“Wait
a minute,” she spoke again, stopping me in my tracks. “Should I make a full
pot?”

I
grinned to mask my shame. “Yes, this will definitely require a full pot.”

My
bedroom was just as I had left it. I threw my purse on the bed, and then found
a pair of running shorts and an old t-shirt on a shelf in the closet. Slipping
out of my bar wear, I threw on the immensely more comfortable garments and
started for the kitchen. I stopped long enough to look at my disheveled hair in
the mirror. Pulling the tangled mess up on my head, I used a clip to hold it in
place.