Four of us filed into the small dimly lit living room to line up and introduce ourselves to a new client. Dani wore a skimpy black lace teddy that barely contained her latest purchase: huge fake tits. Standing next to her was Desiree, skin black as night, long blond hair cascading down her back in waves of weaves. Jennifer, in a waist cinching corset, had short red pixie styled hair and freckled skin. Then there was me. I had real breasts, no fake orange tan, and shiny jet black hair that went down to my ass.
It was almost one a.m. I’d seen five clients and was satisfied with my earnings. My eyes lazily focused on a shaggy haired client sitting slouched in our ‘hot-seat.’ Adrenaline surged through my body. I looked to my left. Dani raised her painted eyebrow in a ‘he’s mine’ look. On my right Desiree jabbed me in the ribs. I whispered “shush.” We all stood there thinking the same thing: “Damn, this man is hot!” We sometimes made remarks about a handsome man, but not often. I liked the way his jeans were tight around thick muscular thighs. Under a mop of golden brown hair he had dark eyes, a prominent nose and a chiseled jaw. He made me nervous.
Dani was first. She pushed her surgeon bought breasts out and used a very Marilyn Monroe-esque voice I’d never heard before.
“Oh… Sorry, me first? OOP’.… Ok then, (giggle giggle) Helloo I’m Daniella.” She smiled a very none Dani coquettish smile. I rolled my eyes. He nodded his head at Dani and grinned. The client was sitting forward with his arm sticking up and bent at the elbow, fist on thigh. Very masculine pose. I could feel the women all exhale together. He was clearly comfortable. Not at all nervous, unlike most the men who sat in that chair.
‘Please God not me I dont want him. It’s too embarrassing to fuck a guy I might see out in my neighborhood, someone I know I’d date. Please God let someone else make the money, don’t let him pick me.’
“Hello there, I’m Desiree…” She waved with the tips of her fingers and licked her lips. He grinned, bemused. Jennifer said,
“Hi there… what’s your name?”
“I’m Jennifer! So nice to meet you…. Eddie.” He shifted in his seat and nodded.
My turn. He was just way too cute. My face felt hot. I stood staring at the wall behind him, the floor, anything but him, or that’s what I tried to make him think. Of course I stole quick glances. I took a deep breath.
“I’m Lizzy.” And looked away. I didn’t smile or look into his eyes, on purpose. Then without skipping a beat he stood up and said.
“ Ok Lizzy, lets go.” I knew it! Damn. Whenever I say hello as though I couldn’t give a shit, they pick me.
We walked out of the room together. Dani mouthed “You bitch!” and smiled phonily.
I took the lead walking ahead of him, aware he was looking at my ass. I worried he was going to have me swinging from the chandelier. Not that we had a chandelier, but it was an expression I heard the women use when talking about difficult sessions. Usually young hot men tried hard to prove something. First that they didn’t need to pay for it, like we cared. Second they can make a whore come. Third they can fuck like a jack hammer for an entire hour. Which for a professional like myself is unnecessary, unsexy, and boring as hell. Then to top it all off, they never tipped. If they did it was ten dollars, which was a total insult. Because these young men actually thought they were doing us a favor. After we had to fake an orgasm to stop the endless rapid penetration, they believed that making us come was tip enough. Needless to say young hot guys are not dream clients.
When we reached Room Three I switched on the red light, which made little difference in the small dark room. I found it difficult to look at him directly, like a teenager on a first date.
I slowly removed my clothing (possibly describe it here – JB) I usually ripped it off in three seconds, which was good enough for the pleasant older gentlemen. I stretched the process out as though I didn’t do this ten times a day, carefully popping the snaps down the front of my mini skirt, then laying it down on the chair. I sucked in my stomach and discreetly pulled up my thong to go over my hips, which makes my legs look even longer. He smiled, enjoying the show.
I thought about subjects to talk about, and asked what he did for a living. He told me he owned a construction firm in Jersey, and lived in a new house he’d just built. I acted impressed. Truth is, I was but not really that much. I watched him pull his T-shirt and tight jeans off. I didn’t see a wedding ring. I don’t know why I was looking for a wedding band, who cares what this man/client did in his life, why the hell did I care? His body was solid, thick muscles with soft skin and hardly any body hair. He probably spends too much time in the gym. That’s no good. If he was always in the gym, I’d never see him, I continued to crazily muse. I’d never had a boyfriend who was in good shape or even remotely cared about health. They’d all been musicians and junkie-artists of some sort. Anyway what the hell am I thinking? Stupid. I scrunched my eyes shut and tried to block out these ridiculous feelings.
“So, err how often do you work out…?” I asked, trying hard to sound offhanded and cool.
“You can call me Eddie.” He smiled a crooked half smile. He looked directly into my eyes.
“You’re really gorgeous” he continued. I felt a hot flush and went bright red. He got a devilish smile and softly touched my cheek, then leaned forward and kissed me. I never kiss clients, but he smelt like baby powder and his lips felt good. I melted, I’d never felt this before with a client. His body ground into mine, we fit so perfectly, our bodies matched.
My mind drifted into dreamland. I saw us together, telling friends… “You’ll never believe how we met…” I imagined us holding hands strolling through the city, then returning to a big open loft space that flooded with sunlight every morning. Laying in bed together we’d complain about too much sun, and smile as we held each other closely and began our day making love. I felt his rippled muscles, firm shoulders and arms that would hold me so protectively. I would never feel vulnerable again.
His mouth devoured mine, and I responded. I never closed my eyes with a client, but this time, I did. His skin felt so different to the sixty year old men I was used to. The ones I felt comfortable with. I saw a bulge in his y fronts. I felt a tingle up the back of my neck and in my breasts, while my crotch ached.
“Oh Lizzy, here’s your money.” He bent down to his crumpled jeans on the floor, fished into his pocket and pulled out three hundred dollars. He tossed the money onto the dresser and looked at me. I felt embarrassed at accepting the money. What was wrong with me? I usually leapt at the money.
I ran my hand over his six pack stomach and into his underwear. His cock was hard, he sighed when I touched him. He pushed me down onto the bed and gently licked my clit. I moaned and tried to stay somewhat in control, keeping my cool. I ran my fingers through his shaggy hair as he continued to dive me crazy.
What the hell, would it really matter if I got off with this client? I did have a boyfriend I loved more than anything. We had good sex, not as often as we used to, but that wasn’t my fault. It was his increasingly large alcohol problem that had put a damper on it. Yet I had never cheated on him. It would be cheating if I enjoyed this session. In my mind I hadn’t cheated yet, because work sex is so totally different to real passionate sex.
I was lying back on the bed when I heard him rip open a condom as he rammed his thick cock into me. It was perfect. I was on the edge of coming. As he thrust into me he rubbed my clit with his thumb. I looked up at him, his face concentrated, sweat appeared around his brow, and his hair stuck to his forehead. I felt my muscles contract around his cock as he kept fucking me.
In the background, there was some yelling or arguing coming from down the hall. I opened my eyes. It sounded near. It wasn’t coming from out in the street. Who the hell was that? Nina would be really pissed if she knew the girls were fighting and yelling. Why isn’t the phone girl telling them to be quiet? He continued ramming his cock into me, oblivious, slamming into me harder and harder, with more focus. Then I heard heavy footsteps stamping up and down the stairs. Must be some argument. Oh well, I’ll hear about it later I’m sure… I could tell by Eddie’s face that he was just about to come when… the door flew open…
WHAT THE… Fuck…?? My first thought was anger, at some bitch bursting into a room clearly in use. Then confusion. Naked, sweaty and in a somewhat dreamy state I bolted upright.
Eddie grabbed for a towel on the chair.
“YOU! Get the fuck up and put some clothes on, NOW!” A short man yelled at me. Eddie was on the other side of the room, already throwing his shirt back on.
I looked at the badge swinging on a chain around this man’s neck. Everything went into slow motion. I was in shock. I reached for my bra and underwear, trying to cover myself up with my hands. Another undercover came into the room… I saw Eddie walk towards the door zipping his fly.
“Eddie I’m…I’m so so sorry…this rarely… umm…happens…” I tried to explain as he walked away.
I was so unbelievably embarrassed. I was certain these middle aged policemen were looking at me thinking ‘Thank god this isn’t my daughter.’ Where the hell did her parents go wrong?’ I wanted to explain myself to them. I’m actually a really nice, smart, rather prudish young woman. This is all my parents fault. They were Middle class people who believed it was better to let a child find their own way at all cost, than coddle the child. I’m not a nasty disease ridden slob.. I’m not I’m not….The words were trapped inside my head, unable to find their way out of my mouth as the dirty disapproving looks of the lawmen hurt me. Surely they misunderstood. But my mind switched back to Eddie. Poor guy. Now he’ll never come back here again. Damn, I was gonna lose him. I felt so sorry for him, would he get into trouble with the cops now?
I was getting dressed as I overheard a couple of cops joke about catching Bob in the middle of getting his dick wet. I assumed they were talking about their undercover. That’s how they get into the house. They send an undercover in as a regular customer, gather evidence that money was offered for sex, and bust everybody.
Poor girl, whoever was with Bob. I must have already been upstairs with Eddie when Bob the cop came up to choose one of the girls.
Eddie was standing at the doorway talking one of the cops. Oh, they’re probably questioning him. I felt guilty, as though all this was my fault.
I was led downstairs by a female cop.
When I got to the living room all the girls were sitting squashed together on the couch looking mighty upset and angry. Fifi, the phone girl, looked terrified. I could understand, the phone girl has it the worst. She could be the one charged with promoting and pandering, which means serious jail time.
I wanted to know who the undercover was with. It had to have been Dani. She stands out so much it would be just like her to get picked by the cop, Oh poor Dani. I squeezed in next to her at the end of the couch.
The place suddenly filled up with cops. They were everywhere, going through our belongings, searching drawers and closets. Some came into the living room holding up our clothing, or boxes of condoms and lube. A few dildos fell out of a bag. One cop asked what it was. “Your sister left it here!” Dani yelled. It would have been funny, but at that moment nothing was funny. Some of the male cops were enjoying the process of photographing items for evidence. I don’t know why our clothing was so fascinating.
This was just part of the game. We came to expect being busted every six months or so. They kept asking where the safe and owner were. They didn’t even seem to know who Nina was. That proved we weren’t under investigation or in real trouble. It was strictly a routine raid.
After an hour of questions and detectives running around, I suddenly spotted Eddie walking casually into the living room with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. What the hell was he still doing here? The cops had let the clients on the premises go a long time ago… Oh I know, he forgot something…He hadn’t said goodbye in all the confusion…I stared at him. Then got a huge adrenaline rush. The sound in the room disappeared and everything got fuzzy…Why the hell was my client holding handcuffs? I stared at him, but the coward wouldn’t look at me.
Oh my god! I froze. Eddie my dream man, was a fucking cop! I must have gone ghost white. I couldn’t breath,…Dani shook my arm and asked if I was all right?
“Lizzy… isn’t that your client?” She whispered. I didn’t answer.
“ Eddie…Eddie! Hey you…EDDIE” I yelled.
A few cops looked at me then Eddie finally looked up, shrugged his shoulders and pursed his luscious lips tightly together and looked at the ground. The same lips that were just kissing me. I couldn’t believe it. He had been the undercover, a dirty cop got to make out with me. To think I had been fantasizing about having him as a boyfriend. Half an hour later I he was locking me up. I felt used and betrayed, disgusting and completely humiliated. I wanted an explanation from him. Of course he owed me nothing, but then again we’d had a connection hadn’t we?
After what seemed like all night but was really only three hours we were handcuffed together in a long line. We all maneuvered down the stairs, which is harder than you think when eight women are tied together. I was the first one leading our glamorous little chain gang. I stepped out onto the sidewalk. Neighborhood people gathered all around to watch. It was the second humiliating experience of the night. The sweet old Hispanic man from the candy store on the corner where I bought cigarettes and snacks everyday was watching. I lowered my head like guilty people do on TV when being shuffled into court. We were put into an unmarked police car and taken downtown to the Tombs.
The lights from the new condos along FDR Drive made me feel strangely sad and insecure. People who lived safe regular lives were oblivious to us whizzing past their homes on our way to jail. Families tucked away in their warm beds, children sleeping. These were pure lives, safe lives. I felt sorry for myself. What would my father think if he knew I was being thrown into the Tombs? He might just shrug his shoulders, in that English way of stuffing emotion, or give me on of those terrifying piercing looks. His eyes scared the shit out of me, his glare cut through me like a knife. I shuddered, shaking his face from my mind. When I opened my eyes the car clock in front of me read 3:33 a.m.
I was exhausted, we all were. By the time we were processed, fingerprinted, and put into a freezing cell it was five a.m.
The Tombs was New York’s (? Fact here – oldest prison, most commonly used, something like that), a mass of winding old corridors, full of stop offs or check points. We were told to walk on the right side of a middle line painted on the cement floor. The walls were tiled in a strange green color I have rarely seen, a murky industrial blah color. There were long lines of males waiting to be booked. The men were mostly black, except for a couple of Hispanic men. We had to stand fifty feet away from them.
A thin wooden bench rimmed our quarters. In the corner a half wall provided some privacy for the dirty toilet. Most of the benches were taken up by sleeping women. I was amazed, they seemed quite comfortable just falling dead asleep in this cold cell. Most looked like crack heads. They’d probably been up for days on a run, so the rest was likely welcomed.
I saw a mat on the floor and grabbed it, thinking how lucky I was to have found a mat and not have to balance myself precariously on the wooden bench. As I lay my head down I immediately sat bolt upright. I could smell the distinct odor of piss. I jumped up and kicked the mat away.
“Ugh! That mat has piss on it, disgusting.” Dani moved over so I could squeeze in next to her.
I zoned out watching the TV on the other side of the bars flicker early morning news shows.
Flashes of bright and cheery newscasters talked about new expensive gadgets available for Christmas. The week’s weather was rolled out with the promised of extra cold chills in the air. I studied the giddy weather girl, dressed down in a sensible blouse. I wonder if she thought about the women who were locked up a mile from their climate controlled studios. I doubt it, why should she. Had she ever thought about selling her golden pussy for money? Never.
I felt sorry for myself. I had no one to turn to. My family were in London and I hadn’t had them in my life for what seemed like forever. I looked around at the women laying in my cell. On my left was Katrina, trying to sleep sitting up like the rest of us. On my right, Dani who half winked at me. That wink made me feel comfortable and protected. She moved my head onto her shoulder. I closed my eyes. The harsh florescent lights buzzed and hummed.
My mind raced over the night’s events. I replayed seeing Eddie in the doorway of the living room with handcuffs in his hands. How could he be so cold? I have sex for money, no emotions involved, and the one time I let my guard down a tiny bit I end up getting locked up by the guy. I couldn’t possibly rest with my mind whirling around, buzzing with anger. I had been humiliated and played for a fool. I never thought of myself as a stupid women. I didn’t make outright stupid decisions. But I felt like the stupidest female alive at that point. I decided to never tell anyone about what had happened in that room.
The guards woke us with the noise of their keys. A male prisoner came into our cell with a tray. His eyes were lowered. We all stared at him. He was a handsome well built muscular black man. Katrina asked him for matches. We had been allowed to bring in cigarettes but not a lighter. The guard reminded him not to speak to us. After he’d placed a tray of small milk cartons and white bread baloney sanwhiches down on a bench, he threw a small book of matches into a corner by my feet. Katrina whispered ‘Thank-you.’ I really appreciated him taking that unselfish risk for us. We were all in the same boat, all prisoners. Except I would be getting out in a few hours and he had an extended stay.
The large female cop stood jingling her keys at the door looking at the T.V. Her uniform was really tight. She had bright red lipstick on her thick lips, and wore her hair in one of those styled sculptures that came down over one eye. She looked like she was dressed up as a stripper cop.
By nine a.m. the morning TV crew was wishing New York a wonderful happy-go-lucky day and we’d been given stale baloney white bread sandwiches. Our lawyer came to speak to us through the bars. We were all going to be given a desk appearance ticket and were free to go. We’d get charged with disorderly conduct, and the record would be sealed after one year. Provided we didn’t get into any more trouble.
Five of us were let out together. When that door was unlocked, I stepped out onto the sidewalk and took a deep breath of polluted city air. It never smelled so damn fresh and good. Across the street was a city park with make shift homeless tents set up in a little community. A billow of smoke wafted into the air from a hot dog cart. The smell of burning sausages lead me across the street and I ordered a well done dog with loads of ketchup, mustard, and relish. I’d forgotten how hungry I was, I had skipped the baloney.
I went home in a cab feeling filthy dirty. I took a long hot bath and went to bed for the day. I felt like pampering myself. I ate Lucky Charms cereal, followed by a bar of Cadburys milk chocolate. It was hard to find in this country, but one of the Indian grocery stores on First Avenue stocked a few bars that I promptly snapped up.
I told Johnny that we’d been busted, and that I had been working the phones when I was taken down with the rest of the women. I always told him a version of my life, just not that I was actually sleeping with men for money. It would have broken him completely. I was doing this for us, for him. He had no way of supporting us both, or even himself. I loved him so much, I never wanted to imagine a moment without Johnny in my life. We ordered up Chinese food, watched TV together, and he drank.
I got a call from Nina at about eleven p.m. telling me she would be back at work in the morning and would I be coming in? Of course I would. A bust was hardly enough to make me quit. In fact I knew that the cops would leave us alone for some time now. This was a good time to make money, as some of the women would be too scared to come back, I could take their clients.
Laying in our loft bed, I stared at the shadows on the wall. I still couldn’t get Eddie out of my mind. I wondered if I’d ever see him again. I imagined running into him somewhere on the street. We would lock eyes as I briskly pushed past him, dressed in a fabulous high collared black coat, wearing the pointiest stiletto boats. He would stop dead in his tracks recalling the night he stooped so low as to have sex with me and lock me up. He would be riddled with guilt as he’d watch me stride off into the distance, my heels clickety clacking on the sidewalk.
I drifted off to sleep beside Johnny. I dreamt of being married to a nice blue collar guy who had rough hands and a rugged face. The dream felt comforting and real. I was saddened when I woke in the morning to hear Johnny in the kitchen pouring his first large vodka of the day.