Tales From Helena Ch 04
The latest chapter exploring the fictional (mis)adventures of working as an independent Escort for hire. Please read the previous chapters first to fully appreciate this installment.
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As Staci reviewed the details for her next appointment, she couldn't resist looking down her long, slender, tanned legs to what she considered her ultimate demonstration of how she had finally turned the corner. Gleaming up at her from her dainty (euro) size 36 feet were her first ever pair of "Jimmy Choo" shoes. The beautifully sculpted, 4 inch heeled, Amada leather peep-toe pumps made her feel deliciously decadent and, to her, were well worth every penny they had cost. Even the figure hugging, navy blue DKNY business suit she was wearing did not cost as much as her shoes, but it was the 'look' the client had requested.
To think that barely three months ago she was almost destitute (Chapter 1). Despite all the nerves and mis-givings, Staci was proud of the way she had adapted to the persona of 'Helena', and the way she had been able to compartmentalize her feelings. In her own mind, whatever she did as 'Helena' was in no way a reflection of who she was as Staci.
Staci was still basking in her own glory when the apartment door opened and a weary looking Rachel, her best friend, dragged herself in and hung her coat in the closet before being barely able to collapse into the sofa. "Hi Staci, I'm knackered. What are you doing here?"
Staci smiled inwardly at the scenario as it played its usual course. Although the 'Helena' web-site could obviously be accessed from any computer, the secret to the site's success lay in the back-up files on the punters and prospects and, rather than just hand over all those files to Staci, it had been suggested they both work from Rachel's place until Rachel had fully stopped being 'Helena'. Rachel had now built herself a new 'respectable' life away from 'Helena', however, she still felt a certain obligation toward some of the punters and still found time to see them. Staci actually felt that Rachel was only paying lip service to the Escorting so that she could keep an eye on her best friend - which Staci didn't mind one jot.
"How was your day at the office, dear?" said Staci sarcastically.
"I don't know what's going on, but things have been really crap lately. Everyone seems so stressed out and bitchy. I'm beginning to wish I hadn't taken that promotion. Do you think I did the right thing, becoming Office Manager?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, did you think you were talking to someone who cared?" replied Staci, grinning from ear to ear. "I can't be listening to your tales of life at the Mill, some of us have to go out and earn some REAL money."
"Ha! Ha! Very funny. Now go make us a cup of tea," retorted Rachel as she kicked off her shoes.
"Sorry, sweetie, can't. Got to be at the Emperor Hotel in half-an-hour." Whereupon Staci logged off from the computer, collected her things and, unable to resist, delivered a final parting jibe of, "Shoes like these don't buy themselves you know," as she sashayed out the door.
Rachel got the message. Staci could still not understand why Rachel would prefer the so-called 'drudgery of the 9-to-5 existence' compared to the life Staci had embraced as an Escort. As Staci put it, "What was not to like about getting paid a small fortune for working when I wanted, and having fun doing it?"
Rachel wondered how Staci was able to disconnect herself from what she did as 'Helena', the fictitious Escort personae that she herself had used to rescue herself from her own dire financial predicament. Sure, some of the punters had been real sweet and added an air of romanticism to the whole sordid arrangement, but it only ever took one ass-hole to remind Rachel that she was just a paid whore. The money had been great, but emotionally, it had been hard for Rachel. She was nearly 27 years old now, had a steady job, and in a fairly steady relationship with a nice, understanding guy who never questioned her when she said she couldn't meet with him.
Rachel dragged her weary body up from the sofa and decided she would have a shower before having a bite to eat. She smiled wryly at the recollection of the sight of Staci's new "Jimmy Choo's" and decided that Staci had every right to treat herself. Rachel shuddered at the sudden realization that Staci had been doing upwards of ten appointments a week lately. Something Rachel could never imagine doing.
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Michael Hughes did not immediately strike you as a 'bad' person. A little crude at times, perhaps, certainly a driven personality, but most people tended to look beyond those obvious flaws and merely register the boyish grin, ruggedly handsome features and, some would say, devastating wit that would entertain groups of people for hours. Unfortunately, whilst very intelligent, his maturity lagged behind his physical age of 29 by quite some years and often lent to childish mood swings where he would be known to sulk or take offence for no apparent reason, much to the discomfort of the perceived perpetrator of said slight.
Nevertheless, the athletic, 6 foot 2 inch frame of Michael was admired by many of his male peers who envied his ability to woo not only the women at his place of work but, seemingly, anything that took his fancy. True, his track record at relationships was appalling, however, as he himself had put it, "You only live once, and if the chick you're nailing starts wanting to make a nest, then it's time to move on."
Michael's image was further enhanced by the reluctance of many of his former girl-friends to 'out' him for the pig he truly was. Many were either glad to see the back of him, not wanting to discuss the relationship, or too distraught at being cast off as unworthy of him. In the marketing office where he worked he was legend, but he was a 'bad' person.