First Time Escort by S.E. Law

3

Shane

I’m at the Hotel Indigo tonight to meet an escort for drinks. Let me just say, I don’t normally do this kind of thing. Earlier this month I got together with a few of the guys for my forty-fifth birthday. The three of us got a limo and went out to some of the most exclusive clubs in New York City.

It was me, Damon Pratt, and George O’Connor. We met years ago when we were undergrads Cornell University. All three of us had different majors, but everyone at Cornell has to take a couple of gen ends, and we all happened to sign up for the only speech course on campus offered after 12 p.m. that first fall.

The three of us were teamed up for a presentation. Our assignment was to lecture the class on a theory in moral philosophy. It was downright brutal. But the countless nights writing up that speech at the college pub led to a lifetime of friendship for the three of us.

George is the real joker of the group. He’s the one that used to always get us in trouble back in our college days, and I always got roped along, which is lucky for them because I was always the one with the know-how to get us out of whatever debacle we landed in.

I gave them both plenty of crap over the years, but I wouldn’t trade those memories for a million dollars. I mean, not that I have to. I don’t like to brag about it, but I’ve done pretty well for myself. I’m a banker on Wall Street, and it pays handsomely with a hefty salary and even bigger bonuses every year. As a result, I have the lifestyle to show for my hard work, and I enjoy taking advantage of it.

Fortunately, we all turned out to be extremely successful. Damon is a highly respected architect, designing the most prestigious up and coming skyscraper to be added to the iconic New York City skyline. And George is a management consultant working with corporations in the Forbes 500. Our careers have turned out to be more than we ever could have dreamed up back in our days on campus.

But every once in a while, things go crazy. And tonight is such a night, which is why I’m meeting an escort at the Hotel Indigo bar.

I blame George. That motherfucker bought me this date as a gag gift for my birthday. I tried to say no, but that idiot was so fucking pushy. He basically thrust a piece of paper into my hands with the profile of a girl named Rose on it. There wasn’t much to the biography, except for a head shot of a beautiful young woman. Too young, come to think of it.

“Think you handle her, Mr. Reed?” George snickered as he presented me with the card. “Or are you too geriatric?”

“Son of a bitch! You followed through,” Damon explained, practically rolling off the seat in the limo in amusement.

“He always does,” I responded flatly. Truthfully, I was impressed by the looks of the young woman, although I wasn’t about to let on. “But isn’t this illegal? Come on.”

George shrugged and grinned before saying that the agency only books the girls to meet for drinks. What does or doesn’t happen from there is entirely out of their hands. With this, he suggestively raised his eyebrows and handed me a room key.

“Just in case,” he said. My fingers closed around the key card although I know I shouldn’t have.

Now, as preposterous as it all is, I’m here. It was a great gag gift, and I didn’t want to be rude. Besides, it’s just drinks, right? I could use a night out in the city anyways. Work has been crazy lately, and as great as my penthouse is, a change of scenery is always nice at times like these.

The agency sent me a message just twenty minutes prior to our meeting time informing me that my date would be waiting for me at the last seat at the bar. They told me this “Rose” person is curvy, brunette, and wearing a red dress.

I instantly see her when I enter the room. She’s the only woman sitting alone at the bar, and she’s wearing an entrancing maroon dress, just like the agency said. The dress highlights her lush curves, squeezing her large breasts and tiny waist without being skanky. Her hair is a mass of curls hanging down her back, leading to long and slender legs below the bar. My mouth waters and I feel tempted already.

The only problem is, when she turns her head slightly, her delicate profile comes into view and my chest grows tight. This is no Rose. This is a woman I know, who happens to be using a fake hooker name.

I can’t believe it, but my escort tonight is my best friend Damon’s daughter.

What the hell is Lucy doing working as an escort? My friend makes a ton of money, so it can’t be financial stress. Is it just Lucy’s way of letting go? Is she acting out and exploring her wild side? Fuck. What do I do?

Even worse, I’ve known Lucy since she was a baby. As a teenager, she was always sort of chubby and awkward-looking, even if she was cute in her own way. She was insanely intelligent too, always huddled up in a corner somewhere reading a book. Lucy wore glasses, if I remember correctly, and had a mouthful of wire for her crooked teeth.

But she’s really blossomed over the last few years. She’s not only matured, but she’s grown into her body, with lush breasts, a small waist and wide hips. I haven’t seen her since before she went away to college, but it seems she’s truly a woman now. I’m looking at her now and there is no resemblance to that awkward teenage girl anymore. No, she is a beautiful young lady waiting at a bar for me.

And working as an escort, I remind myself. An escort who my friend paid to be my date tonight. What the fuck am I supposed to do here?

Without rationally analyzing the situation, I abruptly throw caution to the wind and decide to approach her. Lucy senses my presence and spins on the barstool with a charming smile plastered to her face. That’s before her mouth drops open and the color drains from her cheeks.

“Uncle Shane?” she manages in a stammer. “Oh shit!”

I can see the wheels turning and crashing rapidly in her mind as she tries to process what I already know. We’re here for a date … with each other. But the worst part is that I’m actually looking forward to it. Sure, my emotions are tinged with a heavy dose of guilt, but she’s just so gorgeous. Plus, as dirty as this sounds, I liked hearing “Uncle Shane” slip out of her sensual mouth. The words turned me on like no other. I must be one fucked up son of a bitch. Thank god Lucy is a psychology major because maybe she can help fix me. Still, I can’t help but imagine that sexy voice calling me Daddy instead. Damn. I need to stop this.

“What are you doing here?” she asks in a befuddled voice, snapping me out of my fantasy. She’s clearly hoping that by some miracle I am not the “Reed” she’s meeting and that my standing here is just a cruel coincidental joke the universe is playing on her. But I have to clear this up.

“Since when did you start going by Rose?” I ask her point blank, my eyebrows raised.

Her face flushes with embarrassment, but I’m just happy to see some color return. I was beginning to worry she was going to faint on me.

“Um … um,” she says, now going a deep red.

“Can I sit?” I ask her, gesturing to the chair next to hers at the bar.

“Yes, of course. Please sit,” she mutters, refusing to look into my eyes.

I take a seat beside her and we sit there in silence for a few moments, unsure of how to proceed. But to tell you the truth, I already know what I want. I want Lucy Pratt. I want her tonight, and I want to let go of all my inhibitions with this young, sexy, curvy girl. Why not? Fate has dropped her in my hands, and I’m a man who makes the most of my opportunities.