“Three.” Robyn smiles, dropping the envelope on the table.
Monique nods.
“Two.”
“Eighteen hundred.”
“Twenty-six hundred.”
“Another three.”
Monique nods after each amount, finally turning to me. “Dayton?”
I place my fat envelope on the table and look her in the eye. “Six thousand, four hundred fifty.” I slide it along the table to her.
“Four hundred fifty? Where the f**k did the fifty come from?”
“You shack me up in a hotel with a guy who takes longer to come than a p**n star on Viagra, you pay the concierge to keep it quiet.”
“It’s a good f**king thing I like you, Dayton. If you were anyone else, you’d be on your own with the shit you pull.” Monique opens the envelope and leafs through the amount. “As it is, you just got my kid a new car.”
“Good. Tell him not to crash it this time. I’m not buying him a fourth.” I stand.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Home. I have a hot date, remember?”
***
“Ooooooh,” my best friend, Liv, coos. “Six gees?”
“Don’t forget the four fifty.”
“Fifty? Oh, concierge.”
It really says something when my best friend gets it and my agent doesn’t.
“What do you do with all the money? If that’s twenty percent, then you took home like thirty thousand f**king dollars this week.”
“Twenty-five. I pay off this place, expand my shoe collection, buy out Agent Provocateur and occasionally La Perla, and save the rest for a rainy day. Oh, and taxes. They kill me.” I stab my spoon into my tub of Phish Food. “And if you remember, I take cheapskates like you on vacation now and then. But this doesn’t happen every week.” I lick the spoon clean. “A couple extra clients dropped in, so voilà”
Liv grins. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m in the wrong industry. Shit, I show my tits all the time and I don’t make half as much as you.”
“That’s ‘cause your tits are for the camera. Mine are for touching.”
“Point made and taken.”
“Anyway, you know we’re selective on my clients. Not selective enough sometimes, but they’re all big payers. What I earn in a month takes most of the other girls a year.”
“You get all the big jobs? Don’t the others get pissed?”
“Probably, but it’s some money or no money. It’s not like I haven’t worked for them. I’m the best in the f**king city at my job and they all know it.”
And it’s the truth. I have the most clients, and they just happen to be the ones who pay the most. Fuck well, get paid well. That’s how my life works.
“Yeah? Fuck anyone lately who can get the girls a good job?” Liv pats her natural double D’s. “Because my agent is shooting more blanks job-wise than he is dick-wise.”
“No, but I have a client in two days who might be willing to have a free hour of my time for a double page spread of you. And cover.”
“And cover?”
“Liv, my hourly rate is more than most people’s daily wage. Yes, the f**king cover too. And to sweeten…” I jump up and tug Liv upstairs and into my lingerie room. What else am I gonna do with a three-bedroom house? I’m a call girl. I live and breathe lingerie.
I grab the dark pink bodice with black lace detail that I ordered last week and show it to her.
“Oh!” She takes the hanger and gives it a once-over. “Yep. This is cover-winning lingerie, Day. Every time.”
“I know.” I smirk. “He has a thing for these, and a nice new one will do the trick.”
“Mm… Is he coming here?”
“Yep.”
She shivers as we head back down. “I don’t know how you can do that in your house.”
“It’s no different than someone who works from home on their computer or something. I just have a bedroom instead of an office. It’s not like it happens in my room. I built the extension for a reason.”
I built it two years ago after buying this place when my client load got too big for constant hotel jumping. It’s an extra two rooms—one’s a normal bedroom while the other carries the kinkier stuff. I’m prepared for every situation.
“Okay. You know, we’ve been friends for eight years and I still don’t think I get why you do what you do.”
I smile wistfully. “Yeah, I never imagined I’d drop out of college for the thing I did to get me through it in the first place.”
***
“Hello?”
“I have a job for you.”
I let my groan out and lift my legs out of the water. “It’s my day off.”
“I don’t give a f**king shit if it’s your day off.” Tell me how you really feel, Monique. “This is an easy one. Rate and a half.”
“Tell me more.”
“He’s taking over his father’s company and he has a function tonight. His father is expecting him to show with a date. This is where you come in. He’s paying extra for short notice.”
“Okay.” I wrap a towel around me and walk into my room. “So who is it?”
“He’s requested to stay anonymous until you arrive and he’ll introduce himself then. His profile is too high to deal with the stigma of hiring an escort.” The bitterness filters through her tone, and I feel it. Judgmental douche. “So you have to agree to keep that private.”
“Right.” I draw the word out. “Because talking about my clients is something I do every day. What do I wear?”
“Something classy. It’s a multimillion-dollar company, so something f**king expensive. Something that makes everyone look at both of you. Tonight is about him and stroking his ego.”
“Got it.” I pull out a brown-grey knee-length dress with a pencil cut and lay it out on my bed. “And sex?”
“Not required. Date only.”
“Huh. That doesn’t happen often.”
“I’ll text you the details. Don’t f**k up.”
“Never do.”
I toss my phone on the bed and peruse my collection of lingerie, looking for the perfect set to wear under my dress. Sex may not be on the cards, but that doesn’t mean I can’t wear nice underwear.
Give a girl a matching bra and panties and just the knowledge of its existence on her body will add a level of confidence she didn’t know she had.