I guess the whole reason for this story was my parents getting divorced, conveniently during the spring of my second year in college. That and a stupid game we played at Panhellenic wherein we essentially tested each others morality by a set of dares; i.e. "Would you have sex with a homeless stranger for a million dollars? Blow them? Stroke them? Kiss them?" For some reason it stuck in my mind that most of my sisters, and myself, were willing to go as far as blowing a homeless stranger for a million bucks, but we wouldn't fuck them. Or so we all said. Even as we laughed and called each other liars, no one doubted me. I wouldn't sleep with anyone at all, so when I confessed that for that amount I would suck a gross, filthy guy off, well it rather shocked everyone. The simple fact was that I was known as a prude. I wasn't really, I just never dated anyone very much or very long. As to the dare, well a million bucks is a lot of money, even though it would technically make me a whore. I guess we all have our limits.
In high school I was too focused on my grades to have much of a social life, and in the previous year in college I was much the same. I did go on a date or two but never beyond the kiss good night stage, and in a college town where second base might as well be anal, I didn't get asked out on a lot of second dates. That was okay, my virtue was important to me and although I never planned on waiting until I was married, I wasn't going to give it up so cavalierly either. My roommate even questioned why I bothered with birth control if I wasn't going to "put out" as she called it, but it regulated my periods and kept my skin clear.
I guess I should tell you I am of above average height and about average weight and in pretty good shape. Although my abs aren't normally pronounced they are after a work out and my body fat index was 18.1, putting me just above that of a full time athlete. I worked out three or four times a week, mostly cycling and resistance training, but some aerobics as well. I have sandy auburn hair (the sandy part is highlights of course) and 36 C breasts on my tall frame. I'm considered attractive but I think that is a matter of subjective taste. I get asked out a lot but once word gets around that a date will not give you license to poke around in my privates, I don't go on many second dates, as I said before.
Mom and dad were both well off. He was a senior accountant at the largest industry in our home town and mom worked in real estate, mostly handling relocations for dad's company. I had never had to work in so far as needing money, but had taken a couple of summer jobs at their insistence that I learn the value of a dollar and all that. For two years I had been a life guard at a summer camp, but by the time they told me of the divorce it was too late for that. The problem with the divorce, to hear them tell it, was that they were at each other's throats playing a giant game of "Fuck you!" that the judge had stepped in and froze their accounts. They were both filing motions to release enough to pay for school I was assured, but that would take a month to six weeks to be heard and my summer rent was due now, as well as a few other fees. Plus I needed money for my day to day expenses so I suddenly went from begin okay financially to be flat broke.
I went to college where my mother had in the middle of our state, about five hours away. I joined the sorority at her insistence, and was surprised to meet some really down to earth girls there instead of the spoiled snobs I expected. I was probably the most spoiled of all of us in fact, although everyone's parents paid for school as far as I knew. Most sororities made their freshmen members go through classes to learn what it meant to be a member of that group, and how they were expected to act when at a group function, whether a mixer with a frat or a fund raiser for our philanthropy. We were no different but our president also had classes on managing finances, dealing with guys, the importance of practicing safe sex and even the proper way to give a blow job or hand job. This focused on both technique and not doing anything so sordid in public where one might get caught and expose the sorority to shame. Our big sisters taught and used bananas and cucumbers as props for us to learn with. This was a class that was taken with several boxes of wine and lots of laughter.
Of course, being that it was our first year away from home, most of the girls either had boyfriends they were fucking like crazy or dating a different guy each week so as to sample the most penises they could. Me? I had never seen or touched a penis, and yet no one judged me. My roommate last year had even gone so far as to offer to introduce me to what she called a "nice starter dick" but while I was still considering her offer she turned out to be three months pregnant and went home.
So it was that I woke up, scanned the paper and craigslist for job openings I was qualified for where I could make a lot of money fast, and found an ad for a cocktail waitress at the bar in a hotel near the airport. My friends and I had never gone to this bar so I figured it wasn't a place for young people, and that was fine. I didn't want to wait on people I knew. Older folks had more money to tip and I was less likely to have to put up with drunken frat boys. I typed up a short resume, put on black heels, a black skirt and white button down and made my way to the bar at its opening time of 4 pm. The ad promised a "competitive salary" so I was disappointed to learn from Dave, the bartender and bar manager that it was standard waitress wages of $2.30 an hour with no benefits. The bar was only open on weeknights until 10, and weekends until 11, and most nights only had one waitress. At the moment there were no customers and we talked for quite a while.
Dave was, well, cute. And handsome. And very masculine. And very professional. He was about 27 and had a warm smile. He was in great shape and his shirt was freshly starched, along with his khakis. He had that look like he had not shaved in a day or so and sterling blue eyes. He was everything I thought was good looking in a man, and my body reacted despite my determination to be professional. I was getting aroused talking with him, and mostly looking at him, despite my intentions regarding my virtue. Oh well, this had happened before and I had maintained control of my emotions and body. Sure my nips were getting stiff, and I was just a little aroused, but I wasn't about to jump in bed with him. He was just a very good looking guy who was nice and whose total attention was focused on me. His smile was like a million bucks.
"So what do you think? You're welcome to start tonight." Dave said as I snapped back from my lustful daydreams.
"Well, the ad said 'competitive salary' and, well, I was expecting, uh, better competition. I sort of need to make money fast, like about $800 by the end of next week." I stammered.
"Sure, I can understand that. Let me tell you how it works though. Most girls in this job don't even fool with turning in their hours. The tips here are great. We cater to business travelers who haven't been home in weeks, won't be home in weeks and have wads of expense account money. They see a pretty girl and they will go wild for you, they will be like an ATM that you know the password for. My last waitress made around six hundred on a slow night, and up to twelve on a busy one, but..."
This piqued my interest. "But?" I asked.
"Well, do you have a husband, boyfriend or someone special like that?"
"No, why?"
"That's good. She got one and had to quit. Look, I'll be candid with you. Guys don't tip that big because you give them good service from the bar. They tip that big because they are lonely, horny and too afraid to go out on the strip and get a hooker to blow them for fifty bucks. So they pay us two fifty."
"What?"
"They pay us two fifty. I keep fifty for screening them at the bar. We have a few regulars but we have to watch out for cops. They pay me, I let you know who they are. After that you just let them pick you up, never mention money and take them discretely to the room for a half hour or so. That can happen three or four times a night on good nights, and Thursday or Sunday are our best. That's when we get the most business guys. Personally I think Thursday is better because they are not stressed for work, nothing really happens in their lives on Friday, and they have the most expense cash to blow."
"I... I could never do that." I stammered, even as I thought of that stupid game, and realized that under the right circumstances I could. And as broke as I was, I was at the consideration level, if not the out right doing level.
"Oh? Why? I mean, is it something we can talk about? You've got a fantastic look and they are going to love you."
"Well, I... well I never even.. I'm a virgin. I've never done any of those things." I finally got out.
"Oh. So its not the money?"
"No, I mean yes, but mostly no, that doesn't bother me, I'm all about women's empowerment and sex has been a commodity since, well, forever." I admitted, and it didn't bother me really, "Its just, well I'm kinda saving that for someone special."
"Really? Who?"
"I don't know. I mean, if it were just hands maybe or even oral with nice clean guys that were, you know, attractive, like a date or something, but"
"It could be. We don't have a lot of scum come through here. Most of your clients will be forty to fifty and, well its funny, they all seem to shower as soon as they get here and hit the bar. Way too much cologne sometimes, much like the college guys you date. If you want to think of them as dates, just very short ones, well that's fine because that is basically what it is. But, well, if you've never given head or stroked a guy I don't know if this would work anyway. Its been fun talking with you though." He said as those eyes seemed to twinkle and he got up and walked to the door.
"Oh I know how, I mean, I haven't but I'm not a prude. My girlfriends have told me a lot, I think, well I know I... I know what to expect."
"Come with me" he said as he locked the door, returned to my table and offered his hand. I knew by accepting it my life would change, but I was no longer sure that I didn't want it to.
I took his hand and followed him around the end of the bar where there was a double door which he opened. It led to a very short hallway with just two doors facing each other, and another at the end that led outside.
"The bar was an after thought to the hotel. They just tore out a bunch of rooms and built a bar, but these two were left because they had to leave that door as a fire exit. That one is my apartment, and this one," he said as he unlocked the door, "is where you will work."
We entered, myself shyly, and he sat on a large plush chair. "Turn around, let me see you." He said.
