Chapter 1
A Very Close Call
I was so scared that I thought I needed fresh panties
NOTE TO READERS: The Aristippus Retreat is a novel in nine chapters of a young woman attending a training retreat for the world's oldest profession. The entire novel is just over 82,000 words, divided into nine chapters. We respectfully request that you read the chapters in order, as this is an actual novel, with thirty seven characters, seventeen of them having sex with each other. So, reading the chapters in order is important for the overall appreciation of the story. Following the first nine chapters will be nine appendices, one for each of the nine primary women in the story, other than the protagonist. The nine appendices are written in the first person and can be read in any order. Please enjoy, and we look forward to your comments.
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As Lacey stepped into the lobby bar of the Ritz-Carlton, she instantly realized it was a target-rich environment. The Western Dental Association was in town, and with it, more than three thousand horny dentists. Her proven strategy was to dress sexy, but not like a street walker, and stick to convention hotels. She would circulate through the hotel bar looking for middle-aged men sitting alone at the bar. Then sitting down next to them, she would start up a conversation. If things worked out, they would be on their way up to his hotel room in less than ten minutes, and if not, on to the next unaccompanied male. She had been doing this for about six months, and so far, so good.
Lacey absolutely loved sex, and what could possibly be better than doing what you love and getting paid for it. Her dad had always told her, "A dream job is one you go to every day and can't believe you're getting paid for it." Her father had no idea what she was currently doing, but it certainly did meet his requirement for the perfect job, so she felt justified in her present line of work.
Living away from home for the first time after high school graduation proved much harder than she expected, and she never made it beyond the first year of college. Once she dropped out, she moved back home. But now, neither a student nor employed, her parents gave her a choice. Either pay rent or move out. She moved out the next day and started a job as a cashier at Ralph's. This was a job she hated, and besides, they would only allow her to work thirty hours a week, so there was no way she could support herself. Within two months, she began supplementing her income by dancing at a Hollywood strip club. Now, this was a job she could really get into. But after several months of shaking her booty for tips, she realized that even this job she really enjoyed was just too many hours for too little money.
The club had an absolute prohibition against dancers dating customers. Lacey was well aware of the rule and why. But when a customer offered to pay her rent if she would meet him at a local hotel, it was too much of a temptation to pass up. One date led to another, and within three weeks, the club fired her.
The business class hotels near the Convention Center had proven very lucrative in the past, so she had high hopes for the dentist. Spotting a nice-looking middle-aged guy sitting alone at the bar, she zeroed in on her first prospect for the evening. "Hey, nice place -- isn't it?" she said as she slid up onto an empty bar stool next to him and folded her arms on the bar.
He slowly took a sip of his drink and, without making eye contact, said, "Yeah -- pretty nice."
She crossed her legs and broadened her smile as she sat waiting for a further response. Not getting any, she added, "Are you here with the dental convention?"
"Yep," he answered after another leisurely sip of his drink.
"So am I," Lacey responded, still trying to get him to make eye contact with her.
"Oh really," he said. "So, what do you do?"
"Oh, I'm a dental assistant, I guess you'd say," she said with a flirtatious tone. "I assist dentist in enjoying the convention."
Still gazing straight ahead, and in a dead-pan voice, the bar patron asked, "So what's your name?"
"Lacey," she immediately responded with an enthusiastic tone in her voice and extended her hand to shake his.
Setting his drink down as if to accept her handshake, he glanced over at her and said, "How much?"
In a perky Valley Girl tone to her voice, Lacey smiled and said, "Well -- how much do you think I'm worth."
The customer immediately turned to face her and reaching into his inside jacket pocket, pulled out his wallet. Flipping the wallet open to expose a badge and an official looking photo ID, he said, "Lacey, if you had mentioned a price, you'd be under arrest right now. But since you didn't, I'm going to give you a break. Now get the hell out of here, and I'd better never see you in here again."
Lacey froze in pure fright. Even though she didn't need to pee, she almost wet her pants.
"Did you hear me," the guy repeated, now glaring straight into her face.
"Yes Sir -- yes Sir," she stuttered. "Uh -- thank you -- I mean, yes Sir," she mumbled as she slid off the bar stool and quickly headed for the door. She had no idea if he was an actual cop or not. But he certainly scared the shit out of her. As she raced to find her twelve-year-old Toyota Corolla that she'd parked several blocks away, she kept thinking, well, maybe he wasn't a real cop. Or, more likely, he was an off-duty cop working an extra job as a hotel dick. But it was a very close call in any event, and as she fumbled for her car keys, she realized she needed to be much more careful. She had never been arrested in her life, and she certainly wasn't looking forward to the experience.
As she drove back to her apartment, every possible nightmare scenario ran through her head. It wasn't just the police record, but the cost of bail and an attorney. And
Oh My God
, the horror of her parents finding out. She was only twenty years old, so was she an adult or not, she didn't know, and this only added to the anxiety. Plus, if her parents found out, so would her grandmother, and that was something she really didn't want to happen. Lacey had always been very close to her grandmother, and news like this would break her heart. And there was no way Lacey could stand for that.
Once safely back in her apartment, she called her friend Vivian to tell her what had happened and to ask her advice. Lacey had met Vivian dancing, and even though she was seven years older, they were inseparable at the club and best friends outside the club. Vivian knew what Lacey was doing, and though she occasionally dated guys she'd met in the club, she was far more discreet about it. Older and wiser, she would tell her when Lacey suggested they work the hotels together.
"Hey, girlfriend," Vivian exclaimed as she walked into the Starbucks where she and Lacey agreed to meet.
"Oh, Vivian," Lacey said, her voice still shaking. "I just had a near-death experience."
"Oh my God," Vivian said. "Did some guy hurt you?"
"No -- worse," Lacey responded with eyes as big as saucers. "Cops -- I mean a cop. I tried to pick up a cop."
"Where?" Vivian said, now hungry for details. "Were you arrested?"
"At the Ritz-Carlton, and no, I wasn't arrested. He let me go with a warning, but he scared the hell out of me. He had a badge -- and a gun!" She didn't actually see any gun, but it sounded much more dramatic to add that imaginary detail.
Vivian got up to get an Iced Carmel Macchiato, and returning to their table, said, "Okay, girlfriend, tell me what happened."
"Well, I stopped in the lobby to see what convention was in town. I saw that it was the Western Dentist or something, and I figured it would be an easy hook-up," Lacey started explaining after taking a sip of Vivian's Macchiato. "So, I walked into the Lobby Bar and spotting this nice-looking guy sitting alone at the bar -- I sat down next to him and casually asked him if he wanted any company?"
"So, what did he say?" Vivian asked as she leaned in to hear every juicy detail.
"Well, he asked, 'How much?'" Lacey said, losing a little of the anxiety from her voice.
"And?" Vivian inquired.
"Well, I said, 'How much do you think I'm worth?' And he pulled out a badge and told me to get the fuck out and don't ever come back," Lacey said sheepishly.
"So, did you shit your panties," Vivian said, trying to keep from laughing.
Unamused by Vivian's insensitivity, Lacey said indignantly, "I was wearing a thong -- and yes."
When Vivian finally stopped laughing, Lacey added. "So, what do I do? I'm making good money, and I love it. I love getting laid and getting paid for it. I'm a slut -- I know it, but it is really what I want to do."
Knowing that her friend was serious and had just escaped a near-death experience, Vivian stopped laughing and said, "Lacey, I have this friend who makes a living as an escort. And from what I understand, she makes a damn good living at it. You want me to call her? Maybe she'll share some of her secrets with you."
Two days later, the three women met for lunch at
Tender Greens
on Sunset Blvd. Vivian made the introductions as they munched on farm-fresh salads and sipped herbal tea. Starting the conversation with, "Ginger, Lacey and I met dancing, but her interests have really turned to that of escort, and she was doing okay until she ran into security a couple of days ago. It scared her shitless -- and to be honest, she just needs some advice."
Ginger was probably in her mid-thirties -- a good fifteen or sixteen years older than Lacey, but still very attractive and sexually alluring without looking trampy. "Well," she said slowly, after putting down her salad fork and clearing her throat. "I've been doing this since divorcing my husband about ten years ago. I guess, like you, I liked sex, but to be honest, I didn't want another shit-head man running my life or telling me what to do. So -- I can't even remember how I started -- but I took up being an escort, and the rest, I guess you'd say, is history."
Vivian bubbling with excitement, said, "Yeah, and she does really well at it."
"I'm more interested in safety and long-term security -- if you know what I mean," Lacey added.
"Oh yeah, I know what you mean," Ginger said after swallowing another bite of salad. "I'm not trying to brag, and you may not do as well, but I generally make about $80,000 a year, I only accept one or two dates a week, and of course, that is completely tax-free. So, it's a decent living, I could make more if I wanted to, but I'm happy. And besides, I really get to meet some interesting people and do some interesting things -- like travel and such."
