Sipping at her second glass of white wine in under half an hour and chain smoking her Marlboros, Christina paced around the living room of her suite in the Plaza Hotel in uptown New York.
It was always like this. Every time she had the same feelings. The worry that the arrangements may have been screwed up, the anticipation of what would happen over the next few hours, the concern as to whether what she had ordered would be matched by what turned up, the expectancy and the nervousness as to how things would go. Yes every time she used a male hooker she felt the same.
Chrissy, as most people called her, had a pragmatic view on love and relationships. She didn't believe in the former and hadn't got time for the latter. But she needed sex, plenty of it and often.
So this was her answer. Booking male escorts from high class agencies and spending time with them in her hotels or at her apartment in the Docklands area of London where she lived.
It was the only practical way she could get the sex she needed and maintain her incredibly successful job. There just wasn't the time for relationships and her career. She had tried. Even to the point in her mid-twenties of getting married. That lasted only three years. Men found it hard to live in her shadow and be second fiddle to her job. As a Head of Copywriting for Europe and the Middle East for one of the world's leading advertising agencies she regularly worked a twelve hour day, usually six and not infrequently seven days a week. She was based in London but travelled frequently in Europe and had to visit New York at least once a month.
So there just wasn't the time for relationships. Sure she had opportunities for casual sex and sure she took some up. But they were usually a dinner in a grand restaurant with a colleague or contact. A dinner or, occasionally, a lunch, followed by sex in a hotel. Rarely, even if they wanted was there the chance for a follow up. Both Chrissy and those types of contacts had such busy work schedules that finding the time to arrange a follow up was as good as impossible even if they tried hard and really they didn't. In the sophisticated, fast moving business of marketing things moved at such a pace that people lived for the present. That suited Chrissy. She didn't want the encumbrances of having to think of others for that could affect her career and to her that was paramount.
Since joining a UK agency straight from London University with a 1st Class Honours degree in English and Psychology she had been on a fast track. She had moved up the organisation spectacularly rapidly. She was smart, very smart and cunning. In addition to her superb writing skills and highly creative approach, she had an analytical mind and a determination to succeed that precluded all other considerations. That included leaving the UK agency after a few years when she was headhunted and joined one of the largest agency groups in the world where she became Copy Chief for the UK. Her bosses recognised her potential and quickly had given her more and more responsibility until now she was one of their most senior managers. But there was still further for her to go for she had the ambition to become the first female Managing Director of a sizeable agency and was totally determined that nothing was going to get in the way of that.
The rewards, though, were as spectacular as the hours were long and the workload was murderous. Chrissy earned well in excess of £300,000 a year with that being topped up by bonuses and profit shares. The perks were equally outstanding. In addition to all the usual health care, pension and other benefits she had a Porsche for her personal use and a chauffer driven car at her disposal whenever she wanted it to ferry her to meetings and the airports. She flew everywhere first class and stayed in absolutely the best hotels and ate at only the top restaurants. After all when you are handling accounts with billings and fees well into the hundreds of millions of pounds why travel business or stay in Marriotts was the agency attitude?
It had taken Chrissy some time to adjust her attitudes towards relationships from how young girls are taught. It had taken even longer for her to come to terms with buying sex. But her pragmatic and analytical mind had enabled her to take on board what one of her female colleagues in New York had told her a couple of years ago.
"Just buy it Chrissy, what's the fucking difference," she'd said handing her a phone number. "It's the best male escort agency in town, fucking expensive but they have the best stud around. Anything you want, young, old, pretty, aggressive you name it they'll have it I promise."
Feeling a little sorry for herself being alone in New York nearly two years ago on her twenty eighth birthday and knowing that her meetings were going to finish early, by her standards that is, around nine, she'd recalled what her friend had told her and had called the agency.
It worked out so well she could hardly believe it.
The girl that took the booking treated her just as well if not better than the receptionists at the top hotels and after discretely asking a few personal details such as age and physical details enquired whether she had any preferences for the type of man.
"Or maybe I could e-mail you our questionnaire we'll then have everything on file for the next time won't we?"
Chrissy completed the questionnaire. She had to answer a host of questions on herself truthfully inserting her height at five feet six inches, her weight at 125 pounds, blonde, shoulder-length hair and green eyes. She chose her bodily description as slim and her figure as curvy with small to average sized breasts.
She mailed it back and was amazed when within ten minutes or so she had a reply with the details and photos of a dozen or so men who met the criteria she had stipulated. The mail asked her to nominate her 1, 2 and 3 just in case some were unavailable. After she'd done that she got another mail advising that her first choice wouldn't be available until after midnight but that her second choice was ready right now.
"Hi it's Ken," the voice said on the phone after Chrissy had conducted the credit card details with the agency and had agreed a time for him to visit her.
Chrissy had been a bag of nerves waiting the hour or so for Ken and had several times thought of cancelling. At last, though, he was downstairs in the lobby of the Pierre hotel. That was before the Trump organisation had retained the agencies services meaning that they transferred their allegiance to the Plaza.
He was as good looking as his photo and right from the moment when she'd opened the door he did everything to relax her and make her feel as if it was a date. There was no rush and with all the financial stuff already taken care of it was not long before Chrissy almost began to believe it was a date.
He did not make any overt or pushy actions or gestures to her and quite tenderly made it appear as if it was a seduction. And that was how it had felt to Chrissy as gradually he had undressed her while kissing her, after enquiring if that was ok? It still felt like a seduction as, when she was down to her bra and pants and he had removed his shirt and trousers, he had romantically picked her up and taken her to her bed in the room. It still felt like a seduction when he completed it by fucking her three times over the next few hours.
So that had started her on the use of escorts to satisfy her needs. Clean, quick, no strings and usually bloody good was how she felt about it. No baggage afterwards, just fuck and walk away, perfect for her needs and life-style.
Things were a little different in London where she lived. If anything her hours were even more murderous there for usually she didn't get home until around ten and often, especially when working on a new business presentation, not until the early hours. So opportunities even with escorts were less easy to arrange.
But her friend Gill had helped her there.
"I've found this amazing physiotherapist," she'd told her.
"Oh yeah, big deal. What do I want a physio for?"
"Actually luv to get your rocks off with in the most incredible way." Gill explained for Chrissy had told her about her use of male escorts.
Gill had gone on to tell her how when she'd gone to the physio practice not far from where they both lived in Docklands with a pain in her legs she had the most incredible experience for he had made her cum on his massage table.
"What you mean he just did it, cheeky sod," Chrissy said surprised but interested in what her friend was telling her.
"No it wasn't like that. What happened, or so it seemed to me, was that he hinted that something more was available than just the electronic treatment and the massage. And that by itself was great."
"What's he like?"
"Really hunky, about twenty four or five, well built, good looking and oh he's an Oz."
"Mmmm sounds a good package. What do you mean hinted at?"
"Well as I was lying on my front on the table."
