To really have you understand what happened, the first thing I have to tell you is that I was surprised as anybody. I just managed to make the most of it.
It was a cold February in Chicago a year or so ago. My name is John, and I was in town for a week long sales meeting in the Four Seasons Hotel downtown. The Bulls were playing a series at home, so a number of their players were staying in the hotel too.
Dennis Rodman and I shared an elevator as I went to my room early one night. I'd been feeling a bit under the weather and wanted no part of the partying in the bar. A good book was going to be my night, or so I thought.
Around eleven there was a knock on my door. No one knew my room number, I told myself as I got up from the chair to answer it. I opened the door to find a beautiful woman in a full length fur coat. She was smiling at me as she said, "Stephen?"
I realized that she didn't know what Stephen looked like. Escort service, my mind said immediately. I smiled back at her as I decided what to do next.
***
I held the door open wide, welcoming her into the room, noting her long blond hair. "How are you tonight?" I asked in response to her question. She smiled at me again, beautiful lips.
Dropping the fur off her shoulders and onto the couch, she said, "Quite well, don't you think?" All I could do was stare, at first, thanking Stephen for not being able to get his hotel room number right.
"Quite well, indeed," I was finally able to say. Curvy shape, long legs, full breasts - obviously no bra under her black tank top, and no panty lines in evidence under the black silk knit hip-huggers as she turned for my inspection.
Then I noticed the fuck-me red nail polish on her pretty feet. Strappy black high heel sandals, and fuck-me red nail polish. Mmmmmm, I thought.
"They said you mentioned a fresh pedicure. Will this do?" she asked.
I nodded, smiling, and took advantage of the question to find out exactly what I was getting into. "What else did they tell you? And I'm sorry, but I was so pleasantly surprised by the rest of you that I forgot to ask your name."
"I'm Lilly," she purred, "And thank you for asking. They said your credit card is authorized for your two-hour initial visit, plus up to our maximum, and additional arrangements are at your request and my discretion. They said you were a first-time client of ours and that I was to be especially thoughtful. They said you mentioned a long, stressful meeting, and that I ought to put my massage therapy classes to use."
As I was trying to figure out my next move, she pointed to the desk, where I had a mini-bar set up courtesy of one of our distributors. "May I?" she asked.
"Forgive me for forgetting my manners," I said. "What can I get you?"
"Bourbon. On ice, thanks. No reason to ruin good liquor pouring soda in it, Stephen." She sat down on the couch, crossed her long legs, and asked, "Join me?"
I poured two drinks, sat in the chair across from her, and said, "So how do we spend the next two hours, Lilly? What are you up for this evening?"
"Anything that doesn't involve touching privates, to put it bluntly," she said. She downed half her drink and kicked off her sandal, looked me straight in the eye, and ran her foot up the inside of my calf. "Beyond that, it's up to you. I'm just here to help you relax."
I caught her ankle, stroked the arch of her foot lightly, and said, "Well then, you go right ahead and give it your best shot. I'm open to suggestions."
She giggled and jerked her foot away, and said, "Hey now, I don't know about the tickling. I have sensitive feet." Somehow it made her seem more impish than I had expected, not the stereotype of a call girl. It made me start seriously considering maxing out Stephen's credit limit.
She reached down and slid her other sandal off and picked up her bag, pulling out a bottle of mineral oil. She stood up and polished off her drink, held out her hand, and smiled with those lush lips. "Why don't we start with a little rub down. Take off your shirt and lay down on the floor."
"The floor?" I asked. "Why the floor and not the bed?"
"These beds are way too soft for a serious deep-muscle massage. You need to be on a hard surface so I'm not just bouncing you up and down."
"But sometimes I like bouncing up and down." With Stephen's financing, I was starting to feel a little more bold.
"Bouncing is extra, Stephen," she said as she smirked. "Bouncing involves things your two hours don't cover. Now lay down."