Escort Girls Bk 01 A Lady For Hire Pt 01

A Lady For Hire

Book One of The Escort Girls Anthology in Three Parts

By Magda McKune

The characters in this story are fictional. Any similarities between these characters and real people, living or dead, are purely coincidental.

Part One

CHAPTER 1

Slender dark fingers caressed softly over light coffee skin, moving gently along and under the crease made by the hanging mounds of perfect 36-inch double D breasts to the dimpled indentation of a naval in a smooth flat abdomen.

Damn I looked good.

I looked especially fine just after a shower where the tiny droplets glistened like dazzling jewels across my soft cocoa skin. My tone was a little paler than most black gals and sometimes I thought I might even be a mulatto. Maybe Mommie Dearest had some secret midday rendezvous with our honky cracker milkman, the bald-headed beanpole routinely reaming the snot out of the black bitch's stuck-up high-society snatch in the servant's laundry room behind my darling daddy's back. Wouldn't put it past her, the snooty hypocritical tight-ass upper-class cunt.

My figure was of perfect 36-26-34 proportions and I was damn proud of it. Though still in my early twenties, my skin remained unblemished with shoulder-length hair of a satiny jet-black sheen. I should have been a model. Better yet, a princess. I can imagine I was once some Egyptian or African queen in a former life having dozens of well-endowed handsome black studs fan my dark naked flesh with plumes of ostrich-feathers.

I could sometimes get narcissistic when I stared at my perfect naked torso in the mirror. My body was just about the only thing in my life I was truly happy about. My live-in boyfriend Maurice was often an abusive obnoxious asshole, our apartment a dirty roach infested shit-hole the size of a Tampax box, and my waitress job at the Doll House gentleman's club didn't pay squat.

But I had my great body and good looks and that made me happy.

I heard a knock on the apartment door over the roar of the basketball game on TV. "Reese, baby," I called, holding a towel to my chest and poking my head out the bathroom door. "Could you get that?" I heard him grunt and rise from his squeaky worn recliner. I left the door cracked a few inches as I dried myself off, listening to find out who was calling so late in the evening.

The cackle of female laughter and a couple of low intangibles and guffaws from another man echoed down the hall. Probably some of Maurice's pals dropping over to party it up. I didn't have the time nor the desire to join them as I was due at work pretty soon and even if I didn't have to work, I'd probably beg off anyway as nearly all of my boyfriend's cronies were either disgusting, stupid, or perpetually drunk.

I emerged from the bathroom wearing my fuzzy blue bedroom slippers and a knee-length faded red plaid cotton robe belted at the waist. Our lively guests -- Angel, Roy, and Lube -- were pouring themselves some of the hardy Sangria from the green glass gallon jug they'd brought with them.

"Have a drink!" Angel offered with glee. Angel was short and squat and black as the ace of spades with greasy straight shoulder-length hair. She wore a white sleeveless dress-skirt that barely covered her crotch allowing you could see her pink silk panties beneath. The girl got her nickname from Angel Dust or PCP, which she was always scoring and getting high on from her worthless no-account brother. Hell, the stupid-ass bitch was whacked out of her mind half the time anyway and would end up fucking a dozen dudes and not remember a moment of it.

"No thanks," I replied coolly, crossing the cracked yellow linoleum to the refrigerator. "I'll just get me some iced tea."

"Iced tea!" Lube laughed. "Girl, it's Friday night!" Lube was about Angel's height with short-cropped nappy mop of hair but a lot chunkier and butt-ugly as a nigger girl could get. She got the name Lube from always carrying a tube of lubricating jelly in her purse for whenever she got the urge for some quick anal sex. A dirty, witless degenerate of a stupid slut, Lube was known to take any number of cocks or tongues into her pussy, mouth or ass any hour of the day or night. The sleazy cunt would fuck a snake if you held it for her -- probably because she was either a demented nymphomaniac or so pathetically senseless that it was her own idiotic concept of how to be "popular." I hated to be around the disgusting gargoyle, mostly because she was too fucking dense and obnoxious to make a good whore.

"Not for me," I remarked icily. "I have to work tonight."

"Nice outfit," Roy leered at my bathrobe, a definite glaze in his eye as though Angel's brother had come through with the dope once again. Roy was short for Leroy -- a co-worker of Maurice at the tool factory. Tall, lanky and dull, Roy didn't belong to either of the girls but knew they were both easy lays and hung around them in case one of them wanted to get screwed. "You naked under there?" He grabbed hold of my lapel and pulled it away from my chest to peek into my cleavage.

"Hey! Knock it off!" I cursed, slapping his hand away.

"What's the prob, Nay?" he laughed. "All I want's a little peek!" It's weird how black folks were always making up nicknames for each other, though I guessed every race did it. Nay was the abbreviated version of Naomi, though my boyfriend Reese -- short for Maurice -- liked to joke that it was the sound I made when he drilled me doggy-style, whinnying and neighing like a wild black stallion.

"Yeah, what's the prob?" Maurice chimed in from the couch, unscrewing the cap from his bottle of Jim Beam and filling a water tumbler half full.

I turned to him with a growl, my fists balled on my hips. "What the problem? He wants to stare at my goddamn boobs! That's what's the fucking problem!"

Reese waved a hand dismissively. "Aw hell. Flash him your tits and be done with it."

I turned angrily to the scrawny, leering scarecrow, ripping open the belt and spreading the sides of my robe to flash my ample chest at him. "There, pervert! Are you happy now?"

"Wooooh, baby!" Angel laughed, raising her glass in a toast.

Roy gawked at my hanging hooters, practically salivating on himself. He quickly reached a hand out to paw my left breast and I instantly slammed my robe shut and stepped back. "See!" I exploded. "The son-of-a-bitch is groping me now!"

"Don' freak out, Nay," Maurice sighed. "He's just havin' a little fun."

"Yeah, I'm just havin' fun!" Roy echoed, grinning at my covered chest like the village idiot. Shit! Why can't the big jerk get his jollies with those other two slimy sluts and keep his dirty mitts off me?

"Chill, baby," Reese sighed, downing a hearty swallow of his drink.

"Have a drink, Nay!" Angel smiled. "Loosen up!"

"I don't have time for this bullshit," I groused, crossing behind her to the hallway.

Maurice lashed out his hand and grabbed my elbow. "Don' you go coppin' no attitude 'front of my friends."

I glared at him. "Your friends want a fast feel of my tits and you're just gonna sit there and do nothin'!"

"Shit!" he growled, rising from the couch. "I'll do somethin'... if that's what you want." Reese quickly spun me around, yanking the collar of my robe over my shoulders and down my back to my elbows, baring my naked bosom to his leering pals. "Roy, come get yo' seff a good handful."

Roy set his glass on the table and sauntered over to us. "Reese, no!" I struggled, my arms pinned to my sides in the sleeves of the cotton robe. Roy extended his hand, his palm caressing my breast and thumb flicking over the nipple.

"There," my captor soothed. "That ain't so bad."

"Fucking bastard," I muttered under my breath.

Reese whipped me around, his hands still clamping my arms tightly to my sides. "You show some 'spect fo' me, woman!" he growled, shaking me violently by the shoulders. "I be de fuckin' man here!" Some of Maurice's co-workers at the factory got him started on this macho caveman bullshit -- that a woman is nothing more than a piece of dirt, a servant to wait on and worship men like gods. "Shit, bitch!" he cursed. "Those nice big titties and tight ass you got -- you only gonna shake it for those rich honky mother-fuckers at yo' club, zat it?"

"Reese, please," I whimpered.

The man parted the lower half of my robe and clamped a hand onto my bare pubic mound. "Yo' man wants ta feel you up, he do it. He wants'ta fuck yo' nice sweet niggah pussy, he do it. Know why?"

"Why?" Lube cackled from her perch on the kitchen stool.

"Cause I be de fuckin' man, that's why!"

"That's bullshit," I murmured weakly.

Reese's face contorted with rage, his hand shoving my chest and hurling my body violently backward. My rear hit the arm of the couch, the momentum forcing me to fall over onto my back atop the cushions. Maurice leaned over me and placed his hand on my abdomen to keep my body down. "You needs to be taught some 'spect fo' yo' man, bitch!" the demigod commanded, his free hand unzipping his fly.

"Reese, NO!" I screamed, kicking my legs over the arm of the couch and struggling to free my arms pinned within the tangled sleeves beneath me.

Maurice pulled open his pants and fished out his limp dick, his other hand still pressed to my belly. "Roy! Get over here and hole' this wild bitch down!"

The lanky leering letch sauntered around to the front of the couch and leaned over, his hands clamping onto my exposed mounds and pressing my back tightly into the cushions. "Reese don't!" I pleaded as he pressed the head of his dick to the opening of my vagina. It was bad enough getting raped by the drunken asshole but to do it in front of his soused jeering buddies doubled my humiliation.

"Now this is what I call a party!" Lube laughed, coming around to the end of the couch by my head. "Hey as long as you're down there, Nay," she grinned, reaching under her skirt and pulling her nasty soiled cotton briefs to her ankles. "Make yourself useful!" She kneeled onto the cushions facing Reese and lowered her putrid crusty crotch onto my face.

"Get the fuck off!" I grunted, disgusted by the slut's dirty snatch in my face, my anger compounded by Roy's pawing of my bare boobs and my boyfriend's insensitive poking of my poor dry pussy. I winced as I felt Reese penetrate into my dry slit, momentarily wishing he had paused to borrow some KY jelly from Lube. I writhed and struggled to free my bound arms and wrists at my sides, my antagonists laughing and thinking it was erotic pleasure causing my squirming and thrashing.

"Eat me, Nay," Lube ordered. "Or I'll piss all over your face!"

What could I do? The stupid stoned cunt was vile and high enough to actually do it. My tongue tentatively flicked out, licking the horrid slut's filthy snatch. God it was awful! Her twat smelled of dried urine and stale cum. I doubted that the skanky bitch had bathed in a month. I couldn't see from under her legs but I detected motion of Angel coming over and dropping to her knees beside Roy -- probably to give him an impromptu blowjob as he mauled my breasts.

Roy's hands left my tits to be replaced by Lube's smoother, though more aggressively cruel touch. She squeezed and pinched my nipples in her fingers, twisting and wrenching them savagely. "Ow fuck!" I expelled into Lube's nasty snatch, Reese picking up the tempo of his stiff cock pounding into my ravaged raw pussy. Oh God I moaned. Could this ever get worse?

"Let me fuck her tits!" Roy laughed.

"No, NO!" I whimpered, my muffled plea unheeded. Reese muttered something intangible, my ears covered by Lube's plump thighs. I felt a man straddle my chest, his dick sliding into my cleavage as Lube leaned forward and clamped my mounds together around the shaft. How did I get myself into something like this? I felt a tongue licking my snatch as Maurice rammed away. Probably Angel. Well at least her spit would make me a little less raw.

"Holy shit, I'm gonna come!" Reese exclaimed.

"Don't shoot all over my fuckin' ass!" Roy laughed, his dick still reaming my chest.

"Come on my belly!" Lube cackled raising her skirt. "I wanna see the gooey jizz dribblin' down my pussy onto her pretty little face!" Reese pulled out and moved around to my side, Angel's mouth continuing to lick and slurp my poor abused cunt. Lube lifted her skirt higher and inched back a little so I could barely see Roy straddling my chest and Maurice standing beside him jerking his meat. My boyfriend grunted and aimed his cock downward, the shot of semen making a direct hit on Lube's pubic patch and running down onto my chin.

"God damn!" Roy spasmed, his penis blasting a surge of sticky cream up my chest and over my neck and ear. He shuddered and slapped his spent dick onto my titties. "Fuckin' A, that was good!" he laughed. The bastard finally dismounted my chest, the two men laughing and patting each other on the back as they returned to their drinks. Lube moved off my face and dropped into a nearby chair as Angel abandoned my vagina to kneel between her friend's legs and finish the licking of her randy snatch. I lay spent, exhausted and ashamed, sticky globs of cum slowly dripping down my face and neck. I felt like crying but didn't want to give my tormentors the satisfaction.

I rolled limply off the couch onto my knees, removing the tangled robe and using the cloth to wipe the sticky spew from my body. Nobody offered to help -- hell, nobody even noticed. I slowly rose to my feet on wobbly legs, not caring that the group was getting another free peek of my naked body and staggered weakly into the bathroom.

I felt disgusted -- loathing the worthless woman staring back at me from the mirror who only a short while ago stood admiring and complimenting herself. What a goddamn shitty life I had gotten myself into I cursed, wetting a washcloth and cleaning the drying semen from my face. I needed a miracle -- someone to rescue me from this god-forsaken existence.

Or at least nudge me awake and tell me it's all been a rotten bad dream.

Forget changing into my work-clothes I groused, choking back the tears as I threw on a cotton blouse and pleated skirt and angrily stuffed my work costume into my handbag. I grabbed my leather jacket and purse, making a beeline down the hall to the front door. My attackers were lounging happily about the living room -- Angel relating the story of how she'd given an Arab cashier at the mini mart a blowjob in exchange for a pack of smokes. I quickly walked out the apartment door, not offering a good-bye, nor hearing one in my wake.

The Doll House was a cross between a gentleman's club and a topless bar, more upscale than most with plenty of good-looking women and strong drinks. Eight of us girls served or entertained -- four waitresses and four dancers -- the dancers not much more than cock teasers and tittie jigglers. Hell, it didn't take much talent to strut and wobble your hooters for a bunch of horny drunks. Three times an hour one near-naked girl would take to the stage to strip down to wearing only a thong and gyrate her flesh for the leering audience. I've even mounted the platform myself a couple of times to flaunt and flop my full ripe melons to their cheers and jeers but the money wasn't any better than waitressing so I just stuck to delivering drinks. Better tips and less groping that way.

It was a light crowd at the Doll House club that night, thank God. I didn't know if I could deal with any more groping, pinching and grabbing after my gang-rape ordeal. I ducked into a back room that was usually reserved for dancers to change into their costumes and store their street clothes, quickly shedding my blouse and skirt and tugging on my sheer nylon body stocking. The sleeveless stretch garment clung tightly to my hourglass torso, perfectly accentuating every detail of my curvaceous figure. The outfit was really just a formality -- Stanley the club owner couldn't legally have the girls waiting on tables buck-naked so he settled for the next best thing. My costume was so sheer and tight I felt like I wasn't wearing anything at all and from the drooling ogling stares I received I often believed I wasn't. Though the Negro color was a little darker than my real skin tone, in the dim light of the lounge I appeared to have nothing on but black high heel shoes and a skimpy cocktail apron the size of a postage stamp to cover my pubic area. Pretty demeaning if I wasn't so proud of my dynamite figure and needed the money so desperately.

Two athletic-looking white guys sat at a side table not in my section -- the younger one with short black curly hair, a polo shirt and tan Dockers while his older, bigger and more muscular companion donned a skin-tight sky-blue tee shirt and jeans. Every time I passed by their table the older one would stare at me with a cute innocent boyish grin. It was so adorable and infectious that I often found myself grinning back. His smile was downright contagious, helping me forget how rotten my evening had begun and how much I hated returning to that shit-hole apartment and that thoughtless bastard. Most of my nights at the Doll House offered leering lecherous drunks, groping hands and horny come-ons, but these two guys seemed genuinely sincere in their gentle friendliness and almost made me glad to be working that night.

At one point I couldn't resist pausing at the older fellow's side and bending low at the waist, my palm resting on the tabletop. "Should I know you, honey?" I cooed seductively.

"I don't know," he smiled playfully. "Should you?"

"I think I'd remember if I'd seen your face in here before."

The man's eyes flicked to my big chest and back up. "And I'd remember your, um... unique features as well."

"I noticed you been watching me all night."

"Have I?"

I nodded my head, my chest leaning tantalizingly close to his face. "Mmm hmmm."

The man gave a small shrug. "You're very watchable."

"So are the girls on the stage."

He shook his head and sipped his beer. "Not even close."

I straightened with a hand on my hip -- my dark pointed nipples clearly defined in the sheer stretch outfit. "Flatterer!" My eyes turned to his silent companion. "And what about you?" I grinned teasingly. "You been watchin' my ass too?"

"You happen to have a magnificent ass," he remarked matter-of-factly. "It compliments your other assets quite admirably."

I chuckled and shook my head. "Must be crazy college dudes."

After a while the pair got up and moved across the room to one of my tables. "Like the view better over here boys?" I smiled, setting fresh cocktail napkins in front of them.

The older one looked me straight in the eye -- not staring or ogling, but more like observing and studying -- perhaps even thinking about something profound to say about me. "The view is definitely better over here."

It was disconcerting and just a little bit eerie that he didn't reflexively drop his gaze about eight inches below my chin like most men. Perverts and pick-ups I could handle. It was those love-struck wide-eyed lover-boy crushes that made me weak in the knees. Yet somehow this one was different. This guy seemed to be truly interested in me as a person and not a piece of cheesecake. If anything, he'd be a good source of tip money. "You're cute," I smiled, leaning closer with my palm on the table, my big bosom swaying in his line of sight. I've discovered I can get bigger tips by flaunting my female assets up close and personal.

"So are you."

"Another Heineken?"

"Please."

I tilted my head to his buddy, my eyes never leaving the older man's face. "And your friend?"

"I'm sorry," my handsome admirer replied, his soft baby blues locked on my deep walnut browns. "Is there someone else here besides us?"

The younger one audibly cleared his throat and injected, "Budweiser tap."

"Is it me?" I asked seriously. "Or do you have this thing for black chicks?"