First Time Escort by S.E. Law

1

Lucy

Ireach the end of the long hallway and key into my dorm room. As I throw the heavy door open, I’m already starting to swing my backpack off of my shoulder and up onto the door hook where it will stay for the remainder of the weekend. I practically run to my side of the room. As I collapse onto my twin bed, I let out a long-held sigh of desperately needed relief.

“Ready for the weekend much?” I hear my roommate tease.

“Oh, you have no idea!” I groan back to her without lifting my head from the pillow, my voice a whiny, scratchy mess. I continue to unload on her.

“My professor in Advanced Psychological Statistics is a nightmare. I have no idea how I am ever going to get through this semester. I mean, I thought my practicum this fall was bad, but these advanced level classes don’t even compare. And then I’m expected to write my capstone thesis on top of it all!? I don’t know if it can be done, Rose!” I whimper and rub my eyes melodramatically. I am clearly having a bit of a melt down here.

But honestly, show me a college senior who isn’t in constant panic mode for the entirety of their last semester. There is so much riding on these last few months of our lives as we know it. And not one professor bothers to take the time to tell us how we should cope! Shouldn’t time and stress management be a required first semester course?

I hear Rose snickering at me. I prop myself up on my elbows to face her. As I lazily rise from the pillow, I grudgingly attempt to open my eyes back up to the world.

It’s always so damn bright in our dorm. I know that I really shouldn’t be complaining because it’s a rare privilege to have so much natural light in a dormitory. But sometimes you just want a little ambiance, something along the lines of a low amber glow versus the fiery beaming sun rays we’ve been stuck with.

Rose and I lucked out and got the corner room on the twenty-eighth floor of our dormitory, meaning we have two large windows overlooking the skyline instead of one. To reiterate, I honestly shouldn’t complain because the view is phenomenal, with a sweeping vista of the emerald green grass below topped by the stately buildings that make up our campus.

The room itself is fairly decent looking as well. We strung tiny fairy lights around the white wooden window frames and scattered a few small golden papier-mache lanterns on the ceiling to match - as if we needed more light in here. The lanterns and fairy lights are exactly the type of decoration that suits us because our room has a real boho-chic / feng shui vibe going on. We even added a few fake plants to complete the look.

Rose snorts again, and I roll my eyes at her rude expression of amusement.

“I’m glad my existential crisis is making you laugh,” I kid her.

“Oh Lucy, always so dramatic. We all know that if anybody on campus has their shit together, it’s you.” She turns her head over her shoulder to shoot me a knowing grin as she calls me out on my melodramatic attitude.

I’m about to snap back a snarky retort, but then I do a double-take at my roommate’s appearance. “Oh my god, Rose,” I say as concern quickly rises in me. “Are you sick, sweetie?”

She looks godawful, and I can’t believe I didn’t notice sooner because it’s really obvious. My roomie is kneeling on the floor in a tight blue mini, and her long brown hair is draped over her right shoulder in an elegant French braid. She’s holding a concealer compact in one hand and a makeup brush in the other but the problem is that all the powder in the world can’t hide her red puffy nose. The thing looks like a clown nose, it’s so bright and swollen. Not only that, but her eyes are bloodshot and heavy and she lets out a huge achoo! as I stare. Clearly, she is way too sick to be going wherever it is she plans to go in that mini.

“No, I’m fine.” My roomie waves a hand indifferently at me to tell me not to worry about her, but it is plain to see that she is not fine.

“Rose, don’t be silly. What is going on? Why are you pretending to not be sick when you so obviously are?” I ask, dumbfounded.

“Lucy, I told you I’m—AH-CHOO!”

“Yeah, not sick,” I say in a wry voice. I grab a blanket from the foot of my bed and wrap it around my shoulders. Just seeing her in such condition makes me want to spend the rest of the day rolled up in blankets with a warm bowl of frothy soup.

Suddenly, Rose’s expression drops and tears fill her eyes. I quickly move to sit on the floor by her side, and pat her back. Rose has been my best friend since we were assigned as dorm mates freshman year. I would do anything for her.

“Is something wrong?” I ask in a concerned voice.

Rose sniffles a bit and bites her lip as I give her an encouraging glance. We’re besties, and I’m willing to wait for her answer. In fact, looking back, I’m not sure I would have made it through that first year of school without her by my side. Meeting new people can be really difficult for me. Sometimes I just lock up, you know? I’ll meet someone really cool with all the same interests as me, and I get so excited about it inside, but on the outside all I can get out is a wildly cheesy smile and a dreadfully lengthy awkward silence as I fail to find even the simplest of words in response.

Rose is just the opposite. She makes friends everywhere she goes. Every cashier, security guard, and front desk clerk on campus knows her by name. She can spin up conversation like nothing you’ve ever seen, and I was lucky to have her by my side to introduce me to everyone my freshman year.

Plus, her confidence is contagious. When I’m with her, I’m able to step out of my comfort zone and strike up conversations with new people. I can act almost as extroverted as she does because she’s rubbed off on me a lot and has really helped to pull me out of my shell.

In a way, I look up to her for this. I respect her so much, and it kills me to see the usually bubbly Rose so despondent. I shimmy in a little closer to her, a concerned look on my face.

“Are you okay?” I ask again. “You’re looking a little under the weather.” That just makes her expression fall.

“I have a really important meeting tonight,” she finally sputters out through barely muffled sobs. I pat her back soothingly.

“For what? School?” I smile at her innocence. “Sweetie, any professor will understand! Just call them up and say you’re sick. It’s no big deal.” I supportively put my hand on her shoulder.

“No, you don’t understand,” she says, her gaze refusing to leave a spot in the roughly worn carpet in front of her knees. “You know my family is poor, right?”

I sit back and bite my lip. I’m getting a little confused here. I can’t help but stupidly smile as I shake my head no.

“What are you talking about? Your dad is a plumber and your mom is a nurse at one of the biggest hospitals in the city. Last time I checked, those are pretty fair-paying positions.”

Rose nods tearfully.

“Yes, but my parents can’t afford tuition at NYU, Lucy! And you know how expensive student housing is.”

“Yeah, it’s a crime,” I agree with her lightly.

“Well, the last few years of my schooling have really put my family in a financial rut. So I decided I would try to lighten the load a bit. I got a job,” she says, looking up at me nervously.

I eye her with surprise, pulling back a bit.

“A job? We’ve lived together the last four years. How has this never come up?” I’m beginning to think Rose has gone delirious from a severe fever or something. I continue to gaze sympathetically at her, lost for words.

“It isn’t exactly a normal job,” she says with her voice trembling and sounding somewhat tentative. She’s like a little kid trying to tell her parents they broke the antique lamp that has been passed down through the family for generations. But that doesn’t make sense because I’m her friend. Why would she ever feel like she needs to hide things from me? Or worse, to earn my approval? Rose should know I have her back no matter what. That’s just what friends do.

Take sophomore year for example. That’s the year my parents divorced. Their marriage had always been bumpy. Even so, no one saw it coming.

My dad called me up out of the blue one day and told me that my mom decided she wanted her freedom back. She declared that domestic life was not her destiny. She handed him divorce papers, packed her bags, and took off to backpack Rome. It rattled my dad, rightfully so, and I was worried out of my mind.

But Rose stepped up to the plate. She came with me and spent a week living at my dad’s house helping him get his ducks back in a row. She helped clean and cook while I helped Dad find a suitable divorce lawyer. She was really there for me with no judgment, and no expectations. Rose should know that she can expect the same unconditional friendship and support from me.

“Go on,” I coax her. “What were you saying about your job?”

Rose bites her lip, her tiny nose flaring as she takes a sharp inhale. I can tell she is fighting to push the words out. When she finally speaks, all the words break through in one brisk exhale. She clasps her hands together tightly in front of her chest and squeezes her eyes shut, causing crows’ feet to magically appear in her usually smooth, round face.

“I’m an escort,” she admits.

I blink a bit.

“Sorry?”

She peeks at me through her lashes.

“I’m an escort,” she repeats again.

Oh wow, I did not see that coming. I thought she was going to say she took a gig bartending at one of those awful frat houses where they like to put anorexic blonde girls on makeshift stages to dance. It’s their way of telling other fraternities, ‘We are better than you, hence the hot girl.’ That would be something to hide from your roommate.

But Rose is an escort?! I have so many questions to ask. I rack my brain for a polite way to comment, but shock has taken over. Before I’m even aware of what my lips are parting to say, the words start spilling out.

“Like a prostitute?” I blabber. Way to not be judgmental, Lucy.

“No!” she squeals back at me. I feel a tinge of remorse as I watch her cheeks become a blotchy red. Her voice drops to almost a whisper, as if someone more dignified than us may be listening on the other side of the dorm room wall.

“We don’t have sex with the men, I swear. It’s just …” Her shoulders droop and her lips curl back as the word sex uneasily rolls off them.

“We?” I ask. “You mean girls all over campus are doing this? I can’t believe this is the first I have heard of it!”

Rose shakes her head miserably.

“It isn’t a campus thing Lucy. I don’t think NYU would exactly approve of my boss having a vendor table at the job fair.”

“Yeah, I’ll say.” She shoots me a look. I really want to be handling this news with more calm, but I keep blurting out stupid stuff.

“Sorry,” I say apologetically. “Didn’t mean for it to sound that way.” I decide to switch gears. “Well, escort or not, you are sick. You can’t possibly go tonight! You need to get your rest.”

She turns to look at herself in the mirror and frowns.

“You’re right. Even all this heavy makeup can’t hide the fact that I’m a walking bag of germs. But I’m supposed to be meeting a new client tonight, and he’s supposedly filthy rich. But I obviously can’t. Not like this.”

She stares blankly out the window for a few moments, giving me a chance to try to process all this new information. My heart contracts as I see my best friend through this new lens. I can’t believe Rose has been carrying the weight of such a heavy secret. It must be pretty bad at home if she felt she needed to go this far. How can I help?

But then, I see her eyes begin to glow and her whole body perks up, turning to face me again. What could it possibly be now?

“I can’t go. But you can, Lucy,” she says tentatively with a hopeful look.

“No,” I respond point blank, flat, and instantaneously. “Not a chance in hell!”

“Oh, but Lucy, please?” she begs of me. Rose must be joking.

“Absolutely not! For starters, the client would definitely know.”

She cuts in, her voice still filled with optimism.

“I haven’t even met him yet! Besides, we look pretty similar. Remember that one time we convinced the Anderson brothers we were twins on our golf date?”

I roll my eyes.

“The Anderson brothers are stupid. You are two years older than me and they know that! It’s beyond the point, anyways. I’m sorry, I feel for your situation. I really do. But that is a line I can’t cross. I can’t be an escort, Rose. It isn’t something I’m comfortable with,” I continue. “Besides, I am so shy and terribly awkward on even normal dates. The client would definitely know something is up. I don’t have the same suave charm that you do.”

But Rose won’t be denied, and she sits up straighter.

“Oh, sure you do!” she cajoles. “He’ll love you! I just know it!”

Oh no. I’ve made the dangerous mistake of making her think it’s just a confidence thing holding me back, but it’s so much more than that. Escorting? I don’t want to insult her, but I just cannot! Ew!

But then, Rose sees the look of disgust in my face and breaks down with fat tears rolling down her cheeks. I can’t stand to see her cry, and I soften my position slightly.

“I’m sorry,” I begin, but Rose interrupts me.

“It’s so bad for me right now. My dad just lost his job, and I only have a few more weeks to pay the balance of this semester’s tuition before my enrollment gets placed on hold. And I can’t put off my schooling any longer otherwise I’m going to be ancient by the time I finally graduate. I’m already twenty-three Luce! You know that’s old!”

I nod sympathetically, patting her shoulder as she blabbers.

“I’m so close to finishing school and getting a real job- you know, like a respectable one. I just need to get through these last few months. But if I cancel last minute like this, then the boss won’t book me again, and I won’t be able to afford tuition.”

Oh no. I feel myself grow even weaker. I have never seen my best friend so upset, and I backpedal a bit.

“Well…” I begin.

Rose looks up hopefully.

“Please, Lucy? Just once. I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t so sick. You know that.”

I swallow hard, looking down at my hands.

“So, you just hang out with the guy and they pay you for it? That’s really it?”

“Yes!” The desperation in her voice is dreadful. “I promise, there is no sex or anything. You just meet the guy at the bar, he buys you a few drinks, and that’s it. You can even take the entire fee for tonight’s customer. I just need someone to show up tonight so I can keep booking gigs.”

Now it’s my turn to stare blankly out the window. I want to help her out, but the money is the least of it. Is this really a good idea?

But my friend’s gaze on me is hot as she waits in anticipation. Rose continues to stare at me like a beat-down puppy dog, biting her lips in anticipation of my answer. It pulls at my heart strings and I let out a deep breath.

“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth, in disbelief that I am actually going to go through with this hare-brained scheme. Me, as an escort? Ugh.

But Rose is overjoyed. She jumps forward to hug me, but I throw a hand up to stop her.

“Whoa—this isn’t going to work if you get me sick too,” I say, only half-kidding.

She nods furiously.

“Right. Thank you, thank you! Let’s hurry up and get you ready.” She clicks on her phone to check the time. “You need to be at the Hotel Indigo in forty-five minutes. Your date is at the lobby bar. His name is Reed,” she explains.

How classy. I’m sure Reed will be pushing the idea of moving the date up to his hotel room. NOT. A. CHANCE. But what can I do? I’d take a bullet for my best friend, and unfortunately, it really has come down to that. Reluctantly, I take Rose’s seat at the mirror to start primping for my upcoming date.