hooker/mistress/callgirl
by alisa

Lela

It was another night in Lela Land riding the roller coaster. Life is a freak show. Steph on the phone talking non-stop about her boyfriend Cal. He loved her, she hated him, she loved him, he hated her. I couldn't take it anymore and hung up on her mid-sentence. Turned my cell off.

Filled the bath, poured in oil and bubble soap. Stripped off my silly little uniform and tipped my toes in slowly, then my legs, easing up the thighs. Steaming hot, barely able to stand it. I had this oversized tub installed when I bought the place and I love it. I ease up to my waist. Hair floating on the soapy foam. Then my chest, slow, slow and up to my neck. Chin. Mouth. Breathing through my nose now, little breath rivers in the suds. Heaven.

And I thought of them. Three this weekend.  Three customers that had touched me, fondled me, groped me, grabbed me, twisted my nipples, bit my neck, stuck their lousy little dicks into me; coming quickly for the most part, thank God. I wasn't in the mood for anything staged. No costumes, except for the last one. No scripted readings. No special freakish shit. That was a nice change. I reached for a cigarette. Tired.

Sunday night with no fucking plans...or should I say, no plans to fuck.
I took my softest sponge lathered it up thick and worked on my feet. Mario always wants to suck and lick my feet.

I pretend ecstasy, but it annoys. I used to love foot massages but after his damp and pathetic fumbling I would rather skip them.

He does the same thing to Lana. We call him Mr. Stinky Fingers because all he wants to do is fuck your feet. I charge this asshole five hundred an hour to kiss and lick and fuck my feet.

He really fucks my feet. Rubbing his cock between my toes and making a whole big production over it; moaning, everything. I pretend I'm so into it. Hard not to laugh sometimes.

‘Oh, honey, you are the best...that feels so good...’ Crazy fucker. He's harmless for the most part but I had to get mean with him once. He tried to stiff me. That just kills me, to think that a loser like Mario actually thought he could get over on me.

‘You charge everyone else five hundred for sex and all I want is to give you a massage and make you feel good.’

You're still coming on me, dick-head. That's what I thought, what I said was...

‘Mario. We have a special relationship, I appreciate you and I want you to be happy, sweetheart. You know no one has more beautiful feet than mine. Look at them. They're perfect. And so sore tonight. I've been in heels all day... I understand if you want to go and see someone cheap. Someone who doesn't get pedicures and really take care of her legs...’

He forked it over. No problem ever since. But now that I know he likes to be hassled I cancel appointments occasionally or make it a point to show up late. Perfect pedicure of course.

My phone rings. I let the machine catch it. There's no way I am wasting any more time talking to Steph about Cal.

I assume it's her again, because very few people have my home phone. A few of my best customers and some girlfriends. I can hear the answering machine in my bedroom.

‘Lela, are you there? I just got in from Gstaad. I'm at LAX.’
I picked up bathroom extension. ‘Yea, baby. I'm in the tub. What are you doing? Did you try my cell?’
‘No, if you were working you wouldn't answer it and I knew if you were at home you wouldn't answer it.’
‘How well you know me, I replied. Come over here, Daddy. I've missed you. How was the conference?’
‘Endless. My wife doesn't expect me until tomorrow.’
‘Great. I'll leave the back door open.’

Jack is an old customer. He likes to spank me hard. Likes to make my ass red and sore. Wants me to scream for real, no faking it. I charge him 4 thousand.

I got out of the tub and dried off. Rubbed oil all over my body. Put on little girl cotton socks for comfort and then pulled on my thigh high patent leather boots with the five inch heels.
I synched a corset around my waist and then threw an old bathrobe over that.

Jack likes me without makeup, which is nice, I don't have to redo my face.  I poured a glass of wine and turned on MTV. Then I remembered my period. Should start tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest. Fuck. Four grand down the drain. I went to the bathroom and checked. Nothing yet.

I don't want to have any of my blood come in contact with them. Too worried about AIDS and frankly, so are they. I have never had a problem with a customer wanting latex free sex. Straight sex, anyway. They all seem to be used to the idea.

Other girls tell me that's not the case with them. That they always have a battle. It would be no battle for me. I'd say sorry, give them their money back and shove them out the door.           

The period thing is an inconvenience. Even with a condom men hate it. They don't want to be reminded of menstruation. I guess it's freakish to them.

That's my theory, anyway. Very rarely I'll run into a John that is interested in my period but I shine him on, because I'm afraid of AIDS and that is the kind of freak that would refuse a condom. They want blood on their dicks? Pretending I'm a virgin, maybe? Like the feeling of being dirty? Who knows. I take those four days off.

Jack arrived about an hour later. The backdoor opens into my bedroom.
‘I've been so bad since you were away, Daddy.’

I left the bedroom and fixed him a martini. Absolut, rocks, olive. I brought him his drink and lit him a cigarette. He looked tired. Jet lagged. He downed it and asked for another.
I dropped my old, tattered bathrobe off of my shoulders and walked slowly out of the room. He watched me. He undressed.

When I returned he was naked and holding his belt in his hand.
‘Give me that...’ He set the drink down and threw me across the bed.
I rolled onto my stomach and grabbed the head board.
‘Get on your knees.’ I put my face into the mattress.

He beat my ass and the back of my legs for about fifteen minutes. It always seems like an hour. I am welted and crying when he finishes.
‘My good girl, you're so obedient, so well trained. And I trained you, didn't I?’
I nod, rolling onto my back. This drivel of his kills me; I always want to laugh.

‘Yes, Daddy. Baby missed you, Daddy.’ I hold my arms out to him. He takes a condom out of his pocket and gives it to me. I roll it down his dick and he fucks me missionary, fast.

He leaves a roll of hundreds on the coffee table, $4500 he tipped.

Stephanie

I have this friend, Lela. She makes more money than anyone I know. She says it's because she gets into their heads. I don't know about all that.

I sleep with about five regulars, that's it. Well, six. I don't know how she juggles all of her guys. How she remembers all of their jobs and wives names, even kids. Shit, she even keeps a diary and writes down their birthdays and stuff that they say.

She's like a scientist. I can't be that organized. I don't want to know them that well. Lana is kind of the same way. She's another friend of ours.

I only think of this as a part time job, because as soon as I make enough money, I'm going to quit. I have a boyfriend - I really love. His name is Cal. He says he doesn't mind me sleeping with these customers for money but sometimes he gets drunk and screams at me.
‘Don't you have enough money, yet? You like it!’
 
Fucking bull shit, I do. But Cal doesn't work right now and we have a lot of bills. I used to be a model but it was too hard. The work was easy but it wasn't regular and I had to spend so much money on stupid shit like portfolios, trendy clothing, haircuts, shoes and facials and manicures. It was a ton of cash all the time. It drove me crazy.

Then I met Lana and she and I got to be friends. She was a model too, but she was driving a jag and living in the hills. I thought she must have rich parents - or a good divorce settlement or something - but then she finally told me what she was doing.

She said she could introduce me to one of her friends who really liked blondes. Steve. She said he was nice.

I went and met with him and it was strange, how easy and cool it was. I went to his house and he wanted to get into the Jacuzzi.

Lana told me to get money first. I didn't really know how to ask so I just said, ‘Lana said five hundred?’ God, I was so geeky.
But he was nice and laughed and said, ‘Are you worth five hundred?’
‘What are you? Crazy? Of course I am!’

I took off my dress and he flipped out. Told me I had a perfect body and I should be a model. I laughed and told him I was. I told him all the jobs I had done and stuff and we took a Jacuzzi and he was rubbing my back and stuff.

So it was really easy. I had sex with him and then he took me out to dinner, then we had sex again.

And after he said can he get my number? I thought Lana would be mad, that I was like, stealing one of her customers. But she said to just give her 40% of what ever I made off of him and she wouldn't care.

So that's how I got into it. Steve was married and so he could only see me once in awhile but then he called me and asked if I wanted to meet one of his friends...

Lana introduced me to a couple of other girls and it was like joining a secret club. I see them sometimes out with a customer and it's like we have a secret handshake or something. It's kind of cool, I think.

Then I met Cal, and I really liked him a lot. So I hid my job from him for a long time...but it was hard lying all of the time and I’m really not a liar. I figured I better just tell him.

He is really cool and smart. He's a musician. He played guitar in a band but then they broke up and he had to move out of his bass player’s apartment. I told him he could move in with me.

That's the night I told him about my customers and stuff. He didn't get it at first. He thought I was a hooker. But I'm not, because I only go out with guys I know and they give me a lot of money. Like, some trashy street hooker makes maybe a hundred a night; and they look shitty and they walk on the street and sleep with strangers.

 I finally made him understand that I am just pretending to like my customers but I really love him. Well, we fought for a couple of days but he stayed with me and I am so happy about that, because I would really miss him if he left me. I really love him and I need a guy that really loves me. And I know I'm only going to be doing this for maybe a couple of more years.

The thing that pisses him off the most is when my customers give me presents. Like jewelry and stuff. I don't mind that Cal doesn't give me jewelry, I know he can't afford it but I can't hock the stuff  because they like to see me wear it when we go out.
 
I talk too much. Anyway, back to Lela.

She and Lana have been friends for a really long time. I think they went to school together. She's pretty smart but she can be a real bitch. I was just, like, talking to her the other night and she totally hung up on me.

She says I'm stupid to try and have a normal relationship doing this and that Cal is a pussy whipped idiot. She also say's he's using me, that he says he hates my job but he has no problem spending the money I make.

I think that's her problem. She doesn't have anyone normal that she screws. They are all customers to her. I think she really hates men deep down. But when I told her that she just laughed and said,
‘I'm in the wrong profession if I hate men, don't you think?’

She lets guys hit her and she hits them, too. A lot of her guys are submissive. I can't get into that. It's too kinky. When I meet a guy like that I just give them Lela's cell. She's really fair, too. She always says thanks and gives me a couple hundred.

She also invites me over for dinner sometimes. Cal is never invited. She says she doesn't want to meet him. This anyway is cool, because if Cal and Lela met I know they would hate each other. So sometimes I go over to her house and we barbecue out by the pool and drink wine and gossip and stuff.

She always wants to know what's going on with me and my customers. She's really curious about everything. What we do and what we say and stuff. It's funny. I really don't have any other friends anymore because it's such a pain in the ass to lie all the time and I'm not ashamed of what I do so why should I have to lie? It's not like I'm hurting anyone.

Lela and Lana say I'm a natural.
Whenever I say I'm going to quit, they're like, Yea, sure you are. But I really am. I might go to school. And I still model once in awhile but that never paid a lot. I make around two g’s a week now. That's some serious cash and it's tax free.

 Only one really bad thing ever happened to me. I went out with this new guy and he wanted to fuck me in the ass. I told him no, but we could do it doggie style. Then he gets behind me and sticks it in my ass anyway. It fucking hurt, so I screamed and turned around and smacked him really hard in the head. Stupid thing to do, man.

He grabbed me by the face and threw me off the bed. I twisted my neck really bad and was fucked up for weeks. I decided after that I would only go out with people that I knew. Or friends of theirs, so that they could tell me if they were OK.

The only thing I really hate is customers that want to start ‘dating’ for real. I can't tell them I have a boyfriend because that would be a big turn off for them. But honestly dude, I mean Cal is twenty two and he's great looking. He's a great lover. I'm not going to dump him for an old man. Shit, I'm only nineteen.

It's a big deal to them that I'm so young. Some of them think they are taking care of me. Some of them are just perverts who like young girls. It doesn't really interest me what their deal is. I just act like I love them all.

Lana

Jesus, life is funny. My oldest customer died last week. Oldest as in seventy seven. He left me sixty thousand dollars. When the law firm sent me the papers I thought I was being served. I wonder what his relatives will think of this. I'm sure they have no clue as to who I am. I don't guess I'll ever see a penny of it, but it was a nice gesture all the same.

I don't know what happens to all of my money, but I'm always in debt. I like to travel, I like nice things, I have a couple of cars a decent house. Shit.

I have to pay cash for practically everything, because you can't explain all the extra income to the tax man. It goes through my fingers like water.

This girl that works for me, Stephanie, she probably has about thirty thousand stashed in mutual funds. I'm at least that far in the hole on my credit cards at any given moment. I have a customer who showed me how to get off shore credit card accounts. It works pretty well, but I am always flying to the Caribbean to refill them.

I went down to Rodeo this afternoon and bought a new dress and a couple of shirts - there goes another seven hundred. What the hell is wrong with me? I don't know why I do it. I don't need the stuff. I have three walk-in closets in this house and they are all stuffed full of clothing.

But it kills time, shopping. I get so bored and I can't stand sitting around the house. I watch too much TV. I sleep too much. I drink too much. I spend too much time alone. So I shop a lot. And when I can talk one of my friends into going with me, I travel. Sometimes that cheers me up, sometimes no.

Last month Lela and I went to Barcelona and I came home feeling really lonely. Lela is my best friend but there is something wrong with her that's hard to define. She's nice, but she's distant. And she can be incredibly nasty in a really random way. I have a hard time telling her how I feel about it.

The month before Spain I went to Tahiti. I think for the holiday next month I might go to Bora Bora. I have a customer who has a house on the beach there. He never uses it and tells me to just ask if I ever want to go. The only reason I haven't taken him up on it yet is that I'm sure he will suddenly ‘find the time’ to get away if I tell him I want to go.

But Bora Bora is pretty nice and I figure I could take a three day weekend of him. I paged him this afternoon but I haven't heard back yet.

Right now he's into this new girl, she calls herself Nicki. She works for me more or less and I know her pretty well. She would never go out of town with a customer.

I never planned on being a Madam but I have a knack for it. I've been doing this for so long I know most of the players in town. I'm constantly meeting these pretty young girls who need money.

Hell, they've been fucking every jerk who promises them a part in a movie for free, why not get the cash up front? Of course, the kind of guy who lies to seduce a woman usually won't pay for one.

I have more respect for the Johns. At least they're not liars. For the most part anyway. Funny thing is, a lot of these Johns are the guys who can give them a part in a movie, but the problem now is they wouldn't hire a prostitute. Catch 22.

I never wanted to be an actress but I do model a little. Mainly to meet new girls - also to keep my family thinking I have a legitimate career.

I have to get ready for a date tonight. Lela lets some of her customers come to her house but that's a potential nightmare, even if you know them well. I never do it. I go to them or get a room.

I really hate this guy I'm seeing this evening but I need the money. He is a fat, stupid, posturing bore. He is the worst fuck on the planet but thinks he's great. He insists on going down on me. I know he thinks he's doing me a big favor. Of course I act like I love it. I listen to his bullshit and laugh through his stupid attempts at humor. Dumb ass.

He's the kind of guy who's always asking me about my life. I figure they pay me to talk about themselves, so I'll listen to whatever shit they want to talk about, but MY fucking life is none of HIS fucking business.

I make shit up. Hard luck stories usually, he likes that. I swear to God, I would pass him off to one of the other girls but they couldn't take him, he is that annoying.

And if I ever told him to just shut the hell up and fuck off I’d be telling a thousand bucks to fuck off, so I just keep quiet and put up with it. I always have a couple of drinks before I see him. Tune it out. Tune him out and still act interested at the same time.

I guess I should have been an actress after all. I can make any man believe that he is fascinating and attractive no matter how stupid and ugly he really is.

I feel frantic and scared sometimes, especially late at night. It's nameless and hard to describe. I'll be thirty five this Christmas. I can still pass for late twenties...but for how much longer?

I always thought I would save up a bunch of cash and be set. Maybe meet a rich guy and get married but I don't know anymore. I feel inadequate. I feel absent, someone else is living this life and I’m just watching it.

Thinking too far ahead makes me uneasy.

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