Author note: This is my entry for the
Pink Orchid 2025 for Women-Centric Erotica Challenge
.
"I didn't know this place had a gym," the taxi driver said conversationally as he pulled up in the drop-off zone.
"Just opened," I lied, leaning forwards and pressing my bank card on the reader until it beeped to say the transaction was complete.
"Thanks, love. Have a good night," he said as I opened the door and got out, the cold London evening air chilling my exposed stomach. I hurried across the pavement and into the hotel lobby, my gym bag slung over my shoulder. Over time I'd got used to these upmarket business hotels, populated by people whose employers were paying and had no issues with the markup at the hotel bar. My pink sports bra and navy leggings were an outlier among the grey suits of the other guests, though, and I walked with an ease that belied the fact that I had an appointment to keep.
"Can I help you?" a security guard asked as I approached the lifts, holding up a pudgy hand to stop me.
"I've got a training session with a client," I explained, tapping my gym bag impatiently. "Will you call the lift for me?"
"I'm afraid I can't just let you go on your own. Could your client come down to meet you?"
I rolled my eyes and made a show of getting my phone out of my bag and checking the time. "I'm already late. Just let me go up; I know where I'm going."
"Sorry, miss. If you can call the client to meet you, that's fine."
He wasn't an especially intimidating security guard, but sometimes those were the worst types: the jobsworths who couldn't rely on being able to pick you up and toss you onto the street.
I let out a noise of frustration. "She's already called down to the front desk to let them know to expect me." Looking over at the queue for the desk, I didn't fancy it one bit. "Don't make me stand in a line for no reason?"
The guard eyed me for a moment, but I wasn't going anywhere. I blasted him with a thousand-watt smile and blinked my eyelashes. "Alright, go on," he said, taking the swipe card that was hanging around his neck and using it to authorise the lift for me.
"Amazing, thank you so much," I said, beaming at him until the doors slid shut behind me. Then I let the smile drop and double-checked my appearance in the mirrored side of the lift while it rumbled upwards.
I'd done my hair in a ponytail, to match the personal trainer outfit, and I tucked a loose tress of dark curls behind my ear so I could make sure my makeup was still perfect. The sports bra compressed my tits, which wasn't especially comfortable nor was it their best look, but the tight leggings showed off my hips and arse to perfection. In fact, the only issue with my outfit was a grey scuff on the toe of my otherwise pristine white trainers, which must have happened when I got out of the taxi. I rubbed it clean with a tissue from my bag, which I hurriedly stuffed back away again when the lift arrived at the right floor.
As I walked, I rechecked the message on my phone from Maria to remind myself of the room number.
Maria: Room 319, London North Grand hotel
Bella: Wonderful, thank you :) See you at seven x
I was glad I checked, because I'd somehow remembered the number as 329 which was on the complete opposite side of the floor. Possibly I'd done an outcall here before and been in 329. In any case, 319 was all the way at one end of the corridor, and I reached it just as the time on my phone ticked over to 18.59. Perfect. I paused for a moment to take a breath and collect my thoughts before knocking firmly three times.
The interval between knocking on the hotel room door and its opening were by far the most nerve-wracking of the job. All kinds of possibilities would run through my head about what might be about to happen. As a black woman working as an escort I had to hold my own and more than once I'd had to leave a client because he wouldn't respect my boundaries. In this case, I reviewed the job I'd accepted from the agency: solo female, outcall, two hours. Usually this was the kind of job I would say no to. Solo female often meant a couple who thought they'd either get a threesome for no extra charge, or a more 'authentic' experience if the woman booked the escort. Even if not, two hours was rarely long enough with someone I had never met before, especially a woman. But my golden rule was 'trust your instincts' and something about Maria seemed to feel right.
As if to prove my rule, I'd been on an outcall that morning at Heathrow with Charles, a Canadian gentleman I'd seen before a few times. He had a layover in the UK en route to Germany with time to kill. He was a sweet guy, the married type who used escorts to live out the fantasies his wife wouldn't do, and I'd spent three enjoyable hours with him having breakfast, a long bath, and then letting him do my "A-Levels". It was rare to get a job that was fun from start to finish and it built my confidence that this evening could be good too. I liked female clients; unlike some of the other escorts at the agency, who were more interested in offering soft, performative bi-play, I actually enjoyed lesbian sex.
There was the soft click of the door handle from the other side and it opened, slowly and cautiously. I smiled and took my first look at Maria as she appeared: tall, slim figure, quite pretty, hair cut into a blonde bob, at least forty. Her office-appropriate blouse and skirt suggested she was in London for work and the red tinge of her cheeks made me think she'd probably had some Dutch courage. She certainly looked nervous as she took me in, her eyes all over me, matching me to the pictures the agency sent.
"I'm Bella," I said, hoisting my gym bag a little higher on my shoulder. "Seven o'clock?"
"Of course," she said quickly, laughing at nothing. "I'm Maria. Come in."
I followed her into the room. I'd worked at the London North Grand Hotel before; it had been refurbished a couple of years ago, about the time they beefed up the security. It mainly catered to business types and the rooms had video conferencing capabilities, but they were still spacious and comfortable. Personally I quite liked them, and the bathrooms were always spotless.
Maria stood by the bed, her hands pressed firmly into her thighs in a transparent attempt to stop fidgeting. Pleased not to see a husband lurking in the corner, I put my bag down on a side table and held up my phone.
"If you don't mind paying me, I'll let the agency know I'm here," I explained.
"Oh, yes. Absolutely." Maria dashed over to her handbag, which was sitting on top of her suitcase in one corner of the room, and returned a few moments later with a neat pile of cash.
"Two hours?" I confirmed, and she nodded, handing me the money. I counted it before putting it into my bag, then texted the agency number to say where I was. I waited for their confirmation to come through before locking my phone and zipping it into my bag with the money.
"Okay," I said brightly, looking at Maria. She hovered near me, unsure what she should be doing, so I tried to put her at ease. "This is your first time using an escort?" I asked in a friendly way, making eye contact.
"Um... yes."
"Well don't worry, you're in safe hands with me. Do you have anything specific in mind, or do you want me to take the lead?"
"Um... I'm not sure. I don't know."
"That's okay. Often it's nice to spend the first fifteen minutes or so getting to know each other a little."
"Um... okay."
It was like blood from a stone and I looked at her again. What colour there had been in her cheeks had gone and she was looking grey and pained. I knew this reaction: whereas old hands like Charles were experienced and enthusiastic, sometimes new clients would start to change their mind when the session actually began. I was ready to open my mouth and suggest we sit down on the bed when she suddenly spoke first.
"Maybe this is a bad idea," she said, and it was like a dam breaking. "I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe I was lonely, or questioning, or something, but I'm married and my husband doesn't know about this. I think it might be best to just, well, you can keep the money, of course, that's no problem, you've come all this way and everything, and I mean, thank you, I appreciate it, but it's... I think it's a mistake."
When she finished, she stopped staring at the carpet and looked at me. I could have taken the opportunity to get paid for nothing, and Maria didn't seem like the type to dismiss me and then leave a bad review, but I could tell that she didn't really mean what she said. She was nervous and anxious and feeling out of her depth, but shy, retiring women didn't hire escorts to come to their hotel rooms. There was some confidence in her: I just needed to find it.
"It's completely up to you," I said, holding my hands up. "You need to feel comfortable with me and consent is everything, of course. But if I could make a suggestion?"
Biting her bottom lip, she nodded.
