Panties for Sale (17 page)

“It is open for you.”

Pushing the door open, Chieko peeked inside.
 
A leather armchair sat in the middle of the
room, facing the door.
 
Mr. Forester,
Chieko’s new client sat watching her. “Close the door.”

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.”
 

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 sizes.
 
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.