The Escort Trilogy (Books 1-3) Read online

  He took me to a casual bar and grill down the street, and the hostess took us to a secluded booth. People were checking us out, undoubtedly making comments about an obviously older man holding hands and kissing a teenaged girl. I loved the attention, and could tell that it amused Troy as well.

  Our waiter was a young guy, good-looking and slim, whose eyes roamed over me as he took our order and checked back with us. He kept stealing looks at me now and then as Troy and I talked and ate.

  "It seems our waiter is infatuated with you," Troy commented.

  I blushed and giggled. "Too bad for him," I said, giving him a dreamy look.

  "Do you find him attractive?"

  I frowned, and shrugged. "I guess so."

  Troy's eyes locked on mine. "Give him a blow job."

  I stared, shocked at the proposal. "What?"

  Troy smiled. "Go on. Go find him, convince him you want to be alone for a few minutes with him. I don't want you to return unless you have something to show me."

  I searched Troy's face for signs that he was making a joke. But he wasn't. He was serious. He actually wanted me to give our waiter a blow job! The idea startled me, made me nervous. But I was also turned on. I realized that I would never refuse Troy.

  Without a word, I set my napkin on the table and stood. I looked around, spying the waiter standing along the edge of the bar. I approached him casually.

  "Looking for the bathroom?" he asked me, his eyes wandering over my breasts and legs.

  I fixed him a look. "I need to talk to you about something," I said. "But not where my boyfriend can see."

  "Um...sure," he said, and lead me around the bar toward an alcove. It was actually a secluded table, presently unoccupied, as were the three or four tables around it. I figured I could sit in that booth and not be seen at all, especially if my waiter was standing in front of me.

  "Let me guess," said the waiter as I stepped into the alcove. He followed behind, "It's his birthday, right? Or, this is like a late Valentine's—"

  "Do you like blow jobs?" I asked him, standing close and staring into his face.

  That startled him. "Wh-what?"

  "Blow jobs," I repeated, and slipped my hand under his apron, finding a soft bulge in his black work pants. It began growing as I massaged it.

  "Damn!" he muttered, looking around frantically. "What are you, crazy?"

  "Yeah," I said with a smile. "Dick-crazy."

  "H-hey, look," he stammered, trying to push my hands away. "If this is some kind of joke, if you're just fucking with me to make your old dude boyfriend jealous—"

  "Well, he didn't say anything about fucking," I said, lifting his apron and tugging on his zipper. "He just told me to give you a blow job."

  "He...he told you?" asked the waiter incredulously, no longer trying to stop me. I got his zipper down and slipped my hand in his pants, finding a semi-hard penis hidden in his boxers.

  I giggled playfully and pulled out his dick. "It was his idea," I said, and sunk down onto the bench. His dick was fairly big, not as long as Troy's, but just as thick. It dripped pre-cum as I stroked it with both hands.

  "Oh, man, I can't believe this," moaned my waiter. "Okay, if you're gonna do it, do it qui—ahhhh...."

  He trailed off with a sigh as I wrapped my lips around his throbbing pole and began sucking. I didn't have time for finesse, so I just sucked hard and sure with the intention of making him cum in my mouth. I bobbed on the first few inches and stroked the base with my hands, squeezing and urging on his orgasm.

  It didn't take long. I knew how to get any guy off, and how to do it quick. The waiter held his apron up with one hand, placing his other hand on my head. He shivered with pleasure, trying to stay quiet, and only let out sharp, faint grunts when his dick twitched and pulsed, spitting its hot salty cream all over my tongue.

  I massaged him with my lips to get every last drop, then slurped my mouth off him and slipped his spent penis back in his pants. The waiter shuddered with aftershocks, petting my hair. He gave me a goofy grin as I stood.

  "Holy shit, you're good at that, baby," he said gratefully.

  I smiled. "Mm-hm," I agreed, then abruptly left him, heading back through the restaurant. I felt self-conscious, wondering if anyone else in the restaurant had seen what I had done. In a way, I almost hoped they had.

  I returned to Troy, and sat down across from him once more. He looked to me expectantly.

  "Do you have something to show me?"

  I glanced around, knowing that the waiter and a couple of his buddies were looking my way. I caught them staring at me in disbelief as my waiter described what I had just done. I looked back at Troy, smiling, and opened my mouth.

  Troy chuckled upon seeing the puddle of semen on my tongue. "Good girl," he said. "You can swallow it now."

  I closed my mouth, sucked down the bittersweet juice and licked my lips. I felt naughty and kinky, with the impression that I had proved something to him. I had given a blow job in public and brought back my reward to show him like a devoted kitten.

  "So, you said you wanted to talk to me about something?" I asked, sipping my Diet Coke. My lips were sticky around my straw.

  Troy studied my face a moment. "How would you like to make a thousand dollars a day?"

  I blinked. "Who do I have to fuck?" I asked rhetorically.

  He pursed his lips a moment. "Whoever has the money to pay," he said.

  I blinked again. "W-wait a minute," I replied. "You're serious?"

  "Are you?"

  I breathed out, looking down at my half-finished hamburger. "Y-you want me to...have sex with other men," I said. "For money."

  "Oh, come on now, Allie," Troy said in a patronizing tone. "How much different would it be from what you were doing? And, let's not forget how you lost your virginity in the first place."

  I took in a shuddering breath. "This is different."

  "Is it?"

  I lifted my eyes, finally looking at him. "A thousand dollars a day?"

  Troy nodded. "You pick the days," he said. "As few or as many a week as you like. You will be picked up by my service, taken to meet your client, and the service will pick you up again when you are ready."

  The idea was both intimidating and arousing, I had to admit. And Troy did have a point. I had been sucking dick for money and gifts for months already. Why would it be such a difficult leap to move on to fucking for money? I had already done it once, after all.

  A thousand dollars a day!

  "Who are the men?" I asked him.

  He smiled, knowing he had me now. "Business associates, mostly. Most will be men away from home, and often, they will be married. But that doesn't seem to bother you."

  A thought entered my mind. "Is this why you wanted me in the first place?" I asked. "To make me your personal hooker?"

  His eyes hardened a little. "A thousand dollars a day, Allie."

  I looked away, feeling that I had been manipulated, used. But how could I really blame Troy for his idea? He had paid twenty-five thousand dollars, after all, for the privilege of fucking me, of taking my virginity. And I had given it to him gift-wrapped in a little wet box.

  So, why not do it, Allie? the little devil in my head asked me. Sure beats chugging down cum for shoes and DVDs...

  "You don't have to give me your answer right away," he said. He touched my hand, making me look at his face. He was smiling in that comforting, 'trust me' way again. I managed to smile back. "So, what would you like to do now?" he asked casually, as if we had just finished talking about our favorite TV shows. "The night's still young."

  I didn't say anything. I just gave him a little smile and stood, and headed slowly for the front door. He followed quickly behind.

  * * *

  I moaned and grunted beneath him, laying on my stomach with my legs parted wide, each pounding thrust Troy made inside me forcing air from my lungs. Beads of sweat dripped down my forehead. Troy had been f
ucking me hard for nearly an hour straight, in every position we could think of. His stamina amazed me.

  Hammering into me, Troy leaned over and sucked the nape of my neck, making me squirm. I felt my cheeks shake as he smacked his hips repeatedly against me. "Are you on birth control?" he asked.

  "Yes! I! Am! Uhn!"

  Troy pushed up on his arms, thrust home hard and trembled. "Good," he grunted, and I felt the flood of his semen filling my womb. The warmth of his orgasm flowed through me, making me shudder and sob pleasurably in my fifth or sixth orgasm of the night. Troy's dick twitched a few times, and he stayed inside me as he gently lowered his weight onto my body.

  I licked my lips, murmuring in pleasure, slowly regaining my breath. Troy kissed my neck, my temple, my cheek. I just sighed in satisfaction, enjoying the afterglow with him. My pussy spasmed with aftershocks around his slowly-softening penis.

  "Allie," he whispered.

  "Mmmm?"

  "I adore you."

  I smiled. That was the closest Troy would ever come to telling me he loved me, I knew. I found the statement sweet, honest, and comforting. At least I wasn't just his sex toy.

  After a while, he finally pulled out of me and got up. I stayed where I was, too comfortable to move. I curled my arms under me and closed my legs. I could smell Troy's cologne in the air, mingled with the scent of sex. It settled around me like a protective blanket. His thick, warm cream slowly dripped out from my pussy. I liked the feeling.

  Troy came back and sat down on the bed beside me, running his hand up and down my back. I moaned appreciatively, turned my face to smile up at him. He held two unlit cigarettes in his hand in a silent offer.

  I giggled, pushed up on my elbows. The movement forced out more of his fluid. I grimaced slightly as a thick glob of it rolled down over my clitoris to the bedsheets.

  "Would you like me to get a washcloth?" he asked as he tucked the cigarette between my lips.

  I shook my head as he lit my smoke. "Too late now," I said, still smiling. I breathed out a stream of smoke. Damn. A cigarette really was the best thing after sex.

  "My God, Allie," he said, revealing more emotion than he ever had. "You are absolutely beautiful. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes right now. I have never seen a woman glow the way you do."

  I bit my lip, touched by his words. "I love you, Troy," I whispered.

  He looked away, lit his own cigarette. My proclamation bothered him, I knew. Maybe that was why I said it; to get to him, to tilt the balance of power between us a little more in my favor.

  "Do you really want me to...'entertain' other men?" I asked him.

  He looked back, surrounded by a hazy cloud. "It is just an offer," he said.

  I considered my cigarette, pulled on it. "Do you have other girls?" I asked.

  He was quiet for a moment, pursing his lips. I got the feeling I had touched a nerve.

  I chuckled darkly. "You do, don't you? Well, you're just a regular pimp, aren't you?"

  Troy cocked his head. "I own many businesses," he said. "Not all of them are completely legitimate."

  I fell silent, smoking my cigarette. So I'm not the only one, I thought, then chided myself. How could you think you ever were, Allie? Did you really think you were that special?

  Troy reached for the little plastic ashtray I kept on my bedside table, set it on the bed. We were both quiet. He waited for me to speak first.

  "Will we be able to keep seeing each other?" I finally asked.

  Troy brushed a lock of my hair behind my ear. "Of course."

  I smiled.

  14

  Troy introduced me to an attractive woman named Cleo that following Saturday. I figured she was around thirty years old. She was very glamorous, with the right mix of elegance and casualness. A couple of inches taller, with long, free-flowing black hair, she was more busty and had slightly bigger hips than me. She didn't have the hard look of a woman who had spent years on her back with hundreds of men, if indeed, she had. But she did have a strong sense of self-confidence.

  After lunch with Troy, Cleo took me shopping. Not to trendy shops in the mall, but to some exclusive, elegant places that featured the kinds of clothes I had only seen on Hollywood stars. Cleo was a friendly, outgoing woman and I took to her easily. She had a wicked sense of humor and was very intelligent. She stressed that both traits were necessary for a good 'escort.'

  "So that's what we're called these days?" I asked as Cleo and I left her surprisingly humble SUV and headed to the first business we would patronize that day.

  She gave me a sly look. "Yes, that's what we're called these days."

  I followed Cleo inside the store, gasped as I looked upon the array of clothes. Expensive gowns, shoes, gloves, scarves...the place smelled of money and good perfume. An older woman in layers of multi-colored clothing glided toward us. She seemed to know Cleo pretty well.

  The woman's name was Anne, and she and Cleo treated me to a crash-course in the wearing of elegant clothes. They stripped me naked, right there in the store, as a few other women shopped. None of them seemed bothered by my nudity. My modesty vanished quickly as I became preoccupied with various articles of clothing. Pretty soon, I was slipping in and out of outfits with casual ease.

  I learned a lot about bustiers and evening gowns, garter belts and stockings. I was shown how to walk elegantly, how to balance on stiletto heels, how to conduct myself with 'poise and grace.' Anne and Cleo watched me walk around on a pair of six-inch spiked heels, first in the nude, then in a dress.

  I felt strangely aroused, being on display like that, completely naked except for the heels, while other women in the store occasionally looked on. More than once, I stumbled, but Anne and Cleo were patient. They even made a joke of my apparent clumsiness, making me feel at ease.

  Along with my education on fine clothing, I was given little hints and tricks, things to say and do when in the company of a gentleman. My natural charisma, Anne said, should never be overshadowed, as many men will enjoy my company because of my obvious youth. But there were times and places for acting like a girl, and times for acting like a lady of the evening.

  "Accentuate your age, play off it," Anne told me. She spoke with melodramatic fair, moving her arms and hands a lot. "Remind them that you are young and fresh. But do not remind them that you are a bubbly little girl. Impress them, surprise them with your intelligence and wit. You will need to learn a few things about politics and business."

  I grimaced. I hated politics. But I listened to Anne's advice.

  After a few hours, Cleo and I selected a new wardrobe for me that cost a small fortune. I noticed she paid with a corporate credit card, but didn't catch the name on the card. Cleo just smiled and winked at me. "Just see it as our investment in you," she said.

  We loaded the bags and boxes in Cleo's SUV, then headed to a book store. She picked out some books on various topics, including etiquette, sexual techniques, erotic massage, some soft erotica, and one entitled 'Classy Dirty Jokes.'

  "I love that book," Cleo declared, then added with a conspiratorial look, "page seventy-two." Again, she flashed the corporate card.

  After that, we went to a jeweler, the little shop hidden in a big business complex. I felt really nervous and self-conscious as Cleo selected earrings, necklaces, bracelets and bangles. She had me pick out a platinum woman's watch—warning me not to wear it casually—and a gold waist chain. I selected one that had a cat-face charm on it. Cleo approved.

  "You wouldn't believe how erotic men find the sight of a naked woman wearing only a waist chain," she said.

  I saw a couple of ankle bracelets I liked, and Cleo commended me on my eye. Ankle bracelets too, she said, were very erotic. "Even if worn with jeans."

  Lastly, we picked up some new makeup for me, and I selected a spicy perfume I liked. Again, Cleo cautioned me about wearing the perfume and makeup casually.

  "Why?" I asked as we got back in her car
.

  Cleo smiled. "You are going to be making a lot of money, Allie," she explained. "With no clear means of explaining how. When you are paid, it will always be in cash. Your driver will have it for you at the end of each 'date.' Therefore, if you start showing off the fact that you are making money, people might wonder how. And we don't want questions raised.”

  "Look at me," she continued. "I'm wearing an eighty-dollar blazer and forty-dollar jeans. My watch cost even less than that. The jewelry I have on comes out to less than a thousand dollars. You wouldn't think that I have a necklace at home covered in four karats of diamonds and an evening gown that's worth more than this car."

  I nodded slowly, beginning to catch on.

  "Pamper yourself, honey," Cleo said, patting my leg. "But don't be too obvious about it. Don't live beyond your apparent means. If you want to buy a new car, don't go into a Lexus dealership and plunk down thirty grand in cash. People don't expect a teenager to have money like that."

  "So...wear the good stuff when I'm...'escorting,'" I said as I understood, "But the rest of the time—"

  "You're just little old you," finished Cleo with a smile.

  "But, what if someone I know sees me when I'm out?"

  "Honey," Cleo said with a wink. "Even your own mother wouldn't recognize you when you're all dolled up. Trust me."

  WHORE

  Copyright © 2016 by Ashley Love

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Table of Contents

  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