Christy checked her make-up in the elevator mirror.
Oh well, another hotel, another customer, she thought to herself. After all things could be worse. It was less than two years ago that she was turning tricks on Sunset Blvd. A common street prostitute.
After spending years trading in quickies in the back of SUVs to degrading blowjobs behind dumpsters for a few hundred dollars, here she was today. In the lobby of the Plaza Sheraton as one of the most requested girls of Playtime Companions, an elite escort agency.
Standing at a mere 5 feet tall, full natural breasts, slim waist and juicy ass, she had curves in all the right places. She fussed with her hair in the mirror and quickly looked over her outfit, making sure she looked as tasty as possible.
Outfit, check. Red plunging halter top that drew attention to her breasts. Light blue denim mini-skirt, folded and stitched extra short so it barely covered her ass and the light pink thong underneath. Fishnet stockings and the obligatory knee high leather boots. Topping it off with a short black leather jacket, left open to reveal ample cleavage.
Even after two years at an elite escort agency, the classic street hooker look was still her go-to outfit. After all, it's probably what made her the most popular girl at the agency! Her tattoos didn't hurt either. She was covered neck to hips in colorful tattoos adding to her rebellious brat meets trashy harlot appeal. She remembered how she was told point blank by her first regular wealthy customer that he loved to call her over to his hotel suite anytime he was "in the mood for something cheap".
Appealing to the white collar elite looking to fulfill their trashy streetwalker fantasy had since become her main customer base.
Perfume, check. She had this down to a science. Coconut cream body lotion, rose petal essence, lavender hair spray. All scents indicating peak fertility in females, this combination made men practically cum in their pants. Sweet and sexy enough to indicate fertility, cheap and trashy enough to indicate quick and rough sexual availability. A perfect combination for a high class escort.
The elevator doors opened on the 11th floor of the Plaza Sheraton.
Make-up, check. Christy loved applying her make-up in such a way to appeal to a wide variety of customer needs. Mascara and eye liner to look like a seductive vixen. Rouge that gave her a touch of a classic pin-up beauty. Thick red lipstick with a generous layer of shiny wet lip gloss. And of course long curled eye-lashes, perfect to "look up" to men while on her knees.
It made her look like the ideal mix of centerfold starlet, kissable girlfriend and human blowjob dispenser.
As she finished looking over her outfit in the mirror, she playfully batted her eye lids while making mock kissing faces before giggling to herself, "Perfect!"
She was ready to head over to room 1195.
As she walked down the hallway she wondered to herself, who could it be this time?
A married lawyer looking for a quick extramarital fuck?
An overweight banker looking for a sloppy lipstick blowjob?
A retired hedge-fund manager just looking to cuddle and talk?
Room 1195. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
"Um, uh, coming!" She heard a faint stammering male voice from behind the door as it opened.
He was a medium height, average looking man. She guessed maybe mid to late 30's. He was clean shaven, bespectacled, receding hair line, uneven teeth, round face and practically no chin. He was clad in a plain blue button down shirt with a blue checked tie and plain black slacks. He stared at her with a simpleton smile.
Stereotypical socially awkward beta male nerd, she figured.
