They say Hollywood is a place where dreams come true, where a simple person from the back end of nowhere can become a star and hit the big time. I see it as that, but from my experiences, I know having your dreams come true, involves meeting stars, but not becoming one.
I lived a simple life before I moved to San Fernando Valley in Los Angeles. I made the move because I wanted to do something with my life, but I didn't know what. So with a massive inheritance from my grandfather, and my stuff, I moved out to California from Florida.
For a year I worked at a tech company, worked in the marketing department since I knew that I was a good salesperson. Plus I was always told my rugged good looks and body could get some more sales when I was selling something. I decided to leave after a year and wait on something better. Mainly because I didn't know what else to do.
One day, I just decided to head into Hollywood and find a good drinking spot, so I called up an uber, got myself looking good and went on a hunt for a good spot to relax. I eventually came across a pretty high end nightclub, and thankfully got in without too much of a wait.
I won't go into too much detail over what happened that night, because it isn't the reason I am telling my story, but I happened to meet a beautiful woman who happened to pick me to take home, I did my damnedest to make the night memorable and I was very successful. I woke up the following morning, dressed up, and left her place.
I made it back home and took a shower, when I got out, I noticed a card on the floor. On the front it read, "Stars For The Stars" with a number and an address. On the back was a note that read, "You were amazing, so call them if you want more.-Veronica". I thought it was very strange but I decided to call and see what was up.
On the other end was a female voice who I assumed to be a receptionist.
"Hi thank you for calling Stars For The Stars, how may I help you today?"
"Um hi, my name is George and Veronica slipped me your business card, I was wondering why."
"Well sir, we are currently hiring for a special role in our organization and she saw some potential in you, are you available tomorrow at 2pm for an interview?"
I was weirded out by the wording she used as all Veronica and I did was fuck, but I needed a new job so I agreed and got my clothes ready for the interview.
The next day arrived and I got an uber to the location the card gave me. It was a modest looking building and as I walked through the doors, I was met with a fancy lobby and a woman typing away at a computer. I signed some info and waited to be called.
"George? Lauren is ready to see you now."
I got up and was directed into an office space where another woman sat and typed something up.
"Good to meet you George, I'm Lauren. It is good to meet you and I appreciate you coming in on a short notice. Do you have any questions before we start?"
"Um yeah, what do you guys got going on here." I asked, wondering what I was getting myself into.
"I'll save that question for the end, before you decide if you want this job." She said, and then began the interview.
It went well, we had an interesting talk and she had a man bring in some forms, which I signed. I even had to sign a NDA in addition to the many other piles of papers.
"So to answer your earlier question, we act as a service to the rich and famous that come to Hollywood. Many do not stay here forever so relationships are scarce for some and others, don't get much love from their significant other. In that case, we work to provide, "comfort" to those men and women. Basically, we are a high end escort service." She said, not smiling or even slightly hinting that she is joking.
"The guy you are replacing just found love of his own so he left, so that's why we wanted to hire you so quickly, we have many clients, some you may be fans of. But know you are an employee first, and a fan second. If you agree to this job, you will have sex with any celebrity who wants your services, if you don't, feel free to walk out this door."
No way in hell I'm passing up this opportunity, I agreed to the job and asked when I will be called on.
She typed some info on the computer and looked at me. "We have just put your info out and we already got one request. She is staying at the London West Hollywood hotel, she wants to meet in an hour and the place is a few blocks away. If you agree I'll give you her room number and I'll inform her."
"Sure," I replied, "But who is it?"
"Let's just say you are in for a treat. Before you go, you are on a trial run, so your rate is low, do well with a few clients and we will increase it to whatever we feel is adequate. Now go have fun." She said with a smile and a knowing wink.
I left the building and put the address into my phone, not long after I got a text with the room number and a picture of just her body. I guess they didn't want to expose her identity in case I went to the media. I was also informed to act like I belonged there, so no one really pays attention to me.
I walked around a bit until I saw I was expected in 5 minutes, so I walked into the hotel, took an elevator to her floor and walked over to the door. I knocked twice and waited, eventually I heard "Come in," in a very sensual tone.
I walked in and I then heard, "I'm in the bedroom," so I followed the voice and saw a beautiful woman laying in red lingerie on the bed. It took me a second to notice who was my client.
It was fucking Emma Watson, "How the hell did I get so damn lucky" I thought to myself as she rose from the bed and approached me. She had matching red lipstick, stockings that covered her smooth legs, and a body to die for. Though I thought I died and went to heaven before I felt her hand touch my chest.
"So you are the new guy huh? Hope you can do better than the last one." She said in her beautiful accent, as she began to kiss me. Her arms wrapped around my back, pulling me in as if I would even think of leaving. I had one hand on her shoulder pulling her in close while my other hand begun to grab and play with her ass. It felt amazing in my hand, firm and looked amazing.
