Pretty Baby Ch 04

Part Four: Back In The Groove

I was still a little sore the following morning after the gang-bang. There were faint bruises on my inner thighs and knees, and my hips hurt from being spread open for so long. Bu the discomfort would fade, I knew. As I hoped my heartache over Gary would.

Julie came over that afternoon, bringing sweet and sour chicken and Diet Coke. I hugged her at the door, thanking her for her friendship. We sat on the floor and ate in silence for a while. I could sense that Julie had something on her mind. But I waited for her to bring it up.

"You went out last night," she said, giving me a skittish look.

I picked at my fried rice. "Yeah."

"Was it . . . was it like that?" she asked awkwardly.

I knew what she meant. My eyes flashed to hers, so big and round and sweet. I remembered when I felt as innocent as she looked. "Yeah. It was like that."

She sighed. I could tell she was disappointed. "Why?" she asked.

I shrugged. "It's my job," I said.

Her hands fell to her lap and she gave me a look that seemed to say, 'don't give me that shit.'

I wiped my mouth. "You wanna know the truth?"

Her eyes were unwavering. "Yeah. I wanna know the truth."

I breathed in, gathering my courage. I did not look at her as I spoke. "I didn't know what sex really was for the longest time," I said. "I mean, everyone

knows

what it is, but . . . see, I always had this idea, this image of sex as . . . something special, something

unique

, to be shared between two people who really love each other."

Julie stared at me. "It can be that way," she said.

I nodded. "I know. And it's been that way for me . . . a few times."

Julie didn't say anything, waiting for me to continue. I put down my chopsticks and reached for my cigarettes. I lit one, breathing out smoke. I wondered why I was so nervous. Maybe it was because I had never really thought about the journey I had begun until that moment.

"But I found out, pretty quickly," I continued, pulling on my cigarette. "Sex can be something else. It can be a tool. And that's not necessarily a bad thing."

"I don't think that way," Julie said.

I cocked my head. "You sure?"

She frowned. "I'm not like you," she said emphatically.

I scoffed, defensive. "

Every

woman is like me, at least once in a while."

Julie ground her teeth. Now she was uncomfortable, looking down. She poked at her stir fry as she listened.

"When I'm with a man, he knows what he's going to get," I said. "I don't have to be coy, or pretend to play hard to get. He's going to get laid, and he knows it."

"Because that's what he's paying for," Julie said accusingly.

"And when you go out with a guy, it's different?"

Julie glared. "I'm not a whore," she said bitingly.

I laughed darkly, feeling a righteous need to justify myself. "So what

do

you call yourself after a guy has paid for dinner and a movie, brought you roses, maybe scored some beer at the corner store? When you're flat on your back, and he's inside you, and you're screaming your lungs out 'cause it feels

so fucking good

—"

"You don't get it," said Julie, her eyes vibrating with a mixture of emotions. She was hurt and angry, and I couldn't blame her. "It's different, Alyssa. I don't go out with a guy because I'm going to sleep with him. I do it only if I want to."

She pushed herself to her feet and stared down at me. "Have you ever been with a guy who

didn't

pay you to fuck him?" she asked rudely.

I couldn't answer.

Julie snorted derisively. "I thought so. You know, one of these days, you're gonna take a look in the mirror and not like what you see." She headed to the door, paused a moment, still glaring at me. "And by the way, when I go out with a guy, I usually go

Dutch

." Then she jerked open the door and slammed it shut behind her as she left. I listened to her footfalls as they retreated rapidly down the stairs.

I suddenly felt like throwing up.

***

I was worried about having had unprotected sex with Raul. Cleo had told me that under no circumstances was I to ever 'ride bareback' when with a client. If she ever found out I had had unprotected sex, I would be dropped immediately. Naturally, therefore, I didn't tell her.

I headed to the drug store, bought one of those mail-in kits that guaranteed results within seventy-two hours. I took the test, sent it in. The following few days were nerve-wracking. I hated to even consider the possibility that I might have contracted HIV.

Finally, I called the one-eight-hundred number, put in the code for my order, and waited.

"Your HIV status is . . ." said a computerized woman's voice. I bit my lip and waited, crossing my fingers.

"Negative. Thank you for using—"

I slapped my phone closed and fell back on the bed with a relieved sigh. I stared up at the ceiling, crossing myself.

Thank you, God!

***

I met Cleo for lunch at a little outdoor café that same afternoon. She sounded surprised to hear from me again, despite my telling her that I had wanted to come back. I received the impression that she thought my gang-bang would have turned me off, maybe 'sobered' me up a little. And in a way, it had.

"How're you feeling?" she asked once we had ordered.

I nodded. "Good," I said. "I've been doing a lot of thinking."

I couldn't see her eyes behind her dark sunglasses. "And?"

"I want to go on," I said. "I want to be with the kind of men I was with before."

Cleo slipped off her sunglasses, gave me a direct look. "Are you sure," she said, enunciating the words carefully.

I nodded. "Yeah. I'm positive."

"No more craziness? No more, 'I wanna fuck and get fucked?'"

I shook my head. "I've learned my lesson."

"You better have," she said. She reached for her cigarettes. "All right. I'll go through the requests, see what we have."

I smiled. "Thanks, Cleo."

She gave me a strange look. "You know, there's something about you I don't understand," she said.

I frowned. "What's that?"

"Well . . . I can understand why a girl would want to be an escort. It's exciting, and it makes you feel desired and appreciated. Not to mention in control."

I listened, waiting.

"But what I don't understand is why you seem so . . . comfortable doing it. I mean, I've been at this for over seven years now, and since day one, it has always felt like a job. Sure, I enjoy it, but . . . but you . . . it's like you

prefer

it this way. Going from man to man, catering to them so completely. It's like, no matter what they want, you want. And I don't think it's an act."

I thought about what she said, picking my nails. "I don't know any other way," I said in a small voice.

"What do you mean?"

I lifted my eyes, trying to read Cleo's thoughts on her face. "Did Ian ever tell you how we met?"

She shrugged. "He said he met you through a business associate."

I laughed softly. "Yeah, I guess that's one way of putting it."

"Why does it matter?"

I sighed heavily. "Ian . . . was my first," I said.

Cleo arched an eyebrow in interest.

I went on: "See, I . . . there was an auction, on line, and it was supposed to be secret, but Ian heard about it. He made the highest bid."

Cleo leaned forward. "Wait a sec. You auctioned off your . . . your

virginity

?" she asked, dumbfounded.

I nodded. "Yeah."

Cleo studied my face for a long moment, then eased back. "Well, that's a new one."

"The first time I did anything, I was paid for it," I continued. "It's just . . . part of who I am, I guess."

Cleo lit a cigarette, gave me a contemplative look as she exhaled. "It doesn't have to be."

I nodded. "No, but . . . it is right now. And I like it that way."

"You might change your mind one day," she said.

"I hope so!" I blurted out with a nervous laugh. My mirth faded quickly. "But probably not any time soon."

Cleo smiled slightly. "All right," she said. "I'll set you up again."

***

My date the following night was named Arliss Montgomery. The name conjured up an image of some stately gentleman from Colonial times, tall and handsome with a distinguished look about him. I dressed in a long green dress and a transparent scarf, and confined my hair in a bun with a gold Venus clip. I was told that we were going to a 'society function' at a hotel downtown. It was evidently some kind of benefit for a charity that all the rich and somewhat famous supported.

When I met Arliss, he wasn't exactly what I had imagined. Certainly, he was tall and handsome, but I had not anticipated that he would be black. That certainly didn't offend me, of course. I just had not entertained the possibility.

His age was difficult to ascertain. He had few wrinkles on his strong face, and his very close-cropped hair was jet black. From what I had come to understand about black men, he could have been anywhere from twenty-five to fifty.

He seemed very impressed with what he saw when I met him in the lobby of the hotel. Like a true gentleman, he took my hand and kissed my fingers, and graced my chin as he studied my eyes. He introduced himself formally, and slipped his arm around my back. He commented favorably on my dress, told me I looked 'very elegant.'

I was turned on already. Arliss was smooth, intelligent, handsome, and well-dressed in his black tuxedo and Mandarin shirt. And more than that, he didn't act like a man who knew he was going to have sex with me by the end of the night.

Once we made it to the ball room where the event was held, Arliss picked up a couple flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and we toasted. His eyes bore into mine in a casually seductive way. I was more than conscious of my dripping pussy. I reminded myself to thank Cleo in the morning.

The guests at the function were a veritable who's who of the city's social and business elite. The charity itself was something that concerned a new hospital addition or something like that. Not much was said on the matter. The guests were more interested in talking up their own projects and investments. I had come to understand that such events were occasions for the ambitious to elicit their own 'donations.'

I hung off Arliss' arm, and he introduced me by name to those we spoke with. I was aware that I was definitely one of the youngest women in the room, and figured more than a few of those I met knew my profession. Still, Arliss' 'taste' for having chosen me was complimented.

I learned that Arliss was something of a hotshot lawyer from Florida who often did business in town. Many people knew him, and he dropped names in a casual way that indicated he truly knew the people he spoke of. His sense of confidence and personal worth rivaled that of Ian, I realized. And that turned me on.

At one point, Arliss excused himself to speak with a group of important-looking men, and asked for me to wait beside the large Roman fountain in the middle of the room. I did so, looking around at the various personalities in the room, and noticing the way some of the men were inspecting me.

"Alyssa?"

I turned at the sound of my name, instantly chastising myself for answering to it. I wasn't Alyssa, after all. I was 'Yvette.'

"Hey! I barely recognized you! Wow! Look at you!"

It took me a minute to recognize the girl before me, since I had only met her once, and that had been months ago . . . when she was with her mother and father. She was dressed in a classy blue gown, her face dolled up like mine. She looked gorgeous. She was much more busty than I had originally thought, and her breasts threatened to spill out from her top. Her long, curly, reddish-brown hair was piled atop her head with a few seductive tendrils hanging down around her face. My heart rose in my throat.

I smiled self-consciously. "Hi," I said. "Um . . . Erin, right?"

She grinned, showing off her perfect teeth. "Yeah! Wow! You remember me?"

I chuckled.

Of course I remember you. You're the daughter of the man who took my virginity!

"I have a pretty good memory," I said. "Um . . . enjoying the party?"

She shrugged, looking around as she held a glass of champagne. "Eh," she said, then smiled at me. "How about you?"

"Kind'a boring, actually," I said.

Erin laughed. "Yeah, no shit. These things always are."

I smiled back. I liked Erin, I decided. She was a girl like me . . . in most respects, anyway. Except, she had a rich father and I worked for him.

"So, um . . . you here with your folks?" I asked.

Oh, please, oh, please don't let Ian be here!

Erin shook her head, then leaned close, giving me a look as if she was sharing a secret. "Nah. I'm here on a date," she said, making her eyebrows dance.

I felt a moment of dread.

A date? Ohmigod . . . is Erin an escort? Holy shit, if her own father is pimping her out . . . .

"We've been dating for a while," she continued, smiling to herself. "He's a great guy. My dad likes him."

I breathed in inward sigh of relief. "That's always good."

Erin chuckled. "No shit," she said. "My father's pretty picky. He didn't like my last two boyfriends. Guess that's why they're exes, right?"

I laughed, nodded.

"So . . . hope you don't think I'm insulting you or anything, but—"

I smiled. "How'd a waitress at a crappy little restaurant end up coming here?"

Erin blushed, still smiling. "Yeah."

I shrugged. "I'm on a date, too," I said.

Her eyes flashed. "Yeah? Wanna compare?" she asked playfully.

I laughed again. "Sure. What's your guy do?"

"He's a lawyer," said Erin.

"Mine, too."

"

And

he's really good-looking."

"Mine, too."

"

And

he's got a real serious future."

I rubbed the rim of my glass. "Where is he?"

Erin looked around, then nudged her chin toward a group of tuxedo-clad men, talking and joking. "That's him," she said with a glow in her eyes. "The younger guy, standing next to the tall black one."

I looked for a moment. The man Erin indicated was in his mid-twenties, I figured, with short black hair, nice features, a good build. He was making too much of an effort to laugh at the jokes of the other men around him, I figured, who were at least a decade older.

"His name's Ross Brady. Isn't he hot?"

I nodded. "Yeah, he's a good catch, Erin," I said, my eyes lingering on Arliss, standing next to Erin's boyfriend. For a moment, my soon-to-be lover glanced to me, his dark eyes passing over me in a seductive way. I felt a twitch between my legs, conscious of my lack of panties. A drop of fluid slowly trickled down the inside of my thigh.

"So, who's your guy?"

I turned back to Erin and sipped my champagne. "Actually, he's standing next to your boyfriend," I said. "The tall one."

Erin's smile drained. She stared at me in disbelief. "Nuh-uh!" she exclaimed quietly. "That's Arliss Montgomery!"

"Oh? You know him?" I asked innocently.

"

'Know him?

'" she repeated, awe more than evident on her face. "He's only, like, the best lawyer in Florida! They say he wants to move here, start a new practice! Holy shit! You're dating Arliss Montgomery! I am

so

freaking jealous!"

I chuckled and shrugged. "Eh. He's all right."

Erin giggled and smacked my arm. "Wow! How'd you score him?"

I sipped my champagne.

He picked up the phone and told Cleo he wanted to fuck a blonde teenager.

"We just sort of . . . met," I said. "He's a really nice guy. A gentleman."

Erin shook her head, impressed. "Wow," she said again. Apparently, that was her favorite word. "Okay, you win."

"I think we both win," I said. "Your Ross Brady looks like a real nice guy."

Erin bit her lip and leaned close. "He's got an eight-inch dick," she whispered, then eased back, giggling. "I measured it."

I chuckled. "I don't think you want me to tell you how big Arliss is," I said.

Yeah, as if I knew! But I will . . . soon.

Erin rolled her eyes. "No, please don't," she said. "I'm already jealous enough."

Erin and I talked for a little while longer, occasionally glancing to our men. At one point, Erin's boyfriend gave her a wink, then looked me over in a very interested way. That made me a little uncomfortable. I liked Erin. I didn't want her to think I had any designs whatsoever on her boyfriend.

Although, for the right price, I'd fuck Mr. Ross Brady any way he wanted, then send him back to Erin, panting and spent . . . .

Thankfully, she didn't seem to catch the look her boyfriend gave me. She just prattled on about how she had gone through her entire wardrobe just to find the right dress for the evening.

And then, what I had dreaded might happen . . . happened.

Arliss broke away from the group he was speaking with, and brought Erin's boyfriend with him. The two were talking excitedly -- Ross moreso than Arliss -- as they neared, something about some guy named 'Habeas'' corpse. I shifted nervously on my feet.

"Hey, baby!" said Erin, beaming, giving Ross a deep kiss. She curled her arms around his neck and lifted one of her legs -- very nice legs at that, I had to admit -- to rub against his. "You done playing with the other boys?"

Ross chuckled, said something I couldn't catch. Arliss gave me a look as he took my hand and gently pulled me to him. Feeling the need to mimic Erin's actions, or maybe upstage her, I wasn't sure, I reached for Arliss and pulled his head down. I sucked softly on his lips, emitting a soft, faint moan. Damn, he had nice lips! Arliss kissed me back eagerly, and smiled as we parted.

"I'm glad you haven't been lonely in my absence, Yvette," he said.

I glanced to Erin quickly, noting her frown at the name Arliss addressed me by. I shot her a look, hoping she would play along. "Y-yeah," I said, stammering slightly. "She's a

friend

."

Erin narrowed her eyes slightly in suspicion, but the look faded quickly and she smiled. "Yeah," she said. "'Yvette' and I have known each other for a long time."

I gave her a little smile of gratitude.

Thanks, Erin.

She looked back.

You owe me.

***

I was a little distressed when Arliss invited Erin and Ross along to dinner in the restaurant in the hotel's lobby, but I really couldn't protest without giving a good reason why. Besides, Erin was already playing along, so I figured she would hold up the façade throughout the evening. But I did not doubt that I would have some explaining to do before the night was over.

Arliss and Ross got along pretty well and talked about lawyer stuff through our meal. We had been taken to a table off to one side of the dining room, and Arliss had done all the ordering. Our waitress was a woman not much older than I, very professional in demeanor, and while I was sure she wanted to card Erin and I when Arliss ordered a round of Bellinis, she did not.

"Hey, Yvette," Erin said to me after the roast duck appetizer and before the main course arrived. "Let's go freshen up."

I felt compelled to follow her, even as I dreaded the impending conversation. She was going to ask me why Arliss called me 'Yvette,' and I would have to make something up . . . .

Erin grabbed my hand and directed me to the ladies' room. As soon as we were through the door, she busted out laughing, covering her face and staring at me, wide-eyed with amazement.

"Holy shit!" she cried, stomping her feet on the tiled floor. "You're one of those girls!"

I frowned, consternated by her exclamation. I ducked my head down to see if there were any feet in the stalls. But we were thankfully alone. "Shhh!" I hissed.

Erin convulsed, giggling, her face blushing deeply. "Oh my God!" she sputtered. "I knew it! I freaking knew it!"

I sighed, heading to the sink. Erin watched after me, her mouth hanging open.

"Wow," she said, calming down. "I never would'a thought. So . . . that night that you waited on us, what was that? Recruiting?"