Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
But it’s hard managing a stable of gigolos. After all, these aren’t exactly the most hardworking, reliable guys. They’re handsome and like to work out, but that doesn’t mean they’re going to show up when you want them to. As a result, Ryan and I have our pictures on the website as well. We’re not twins per se, but we look enough alike that we add that marketing snippet to our profiles.
Plus, there’s something else that Ryan and I like to do when we work together: we’re bisexual, and we enjoy men sometimes. It’s something that developed organically. At the beginning, we’d service a woman with no thought of each other. If anything, we were careful to never touch. But my friend is a handsome man, with a chiseled physique and a pole that would make a horse jealous. I admit that I ached to taste it myself, and a few years ago, I did just that. To my surprise, Ryan liked it and then admitted that he was interested in me as well. Since then, we’ve enjoyed quite a few women this way: focused on the female, but also touching and stroking the other guy too.
But we don’t do very many jobs. The operator is trained to say that we’re in high demand, and to make it sound like there’s no space on our schedules. But the truth is that we just don’t go out that often. There’s no need. Our business has developed to the point where there are plenty of employees to do the heavy lifting, while Ryan and I just sit back and manage things from a distance.
But the woman tonight was willing to pay a premium for our services. When Charlene told us that she’d paid three thousand upfront, we were curious. Most women like to haggle and try to get a discount, but our new client didn’t hesitate. The three thousand has already been charged to her credit card, and we have a strict no-refunds policy.
Now, here we are on her doorstep. To be clear, there’s no doorstep. Instead, we’re on the fifth floor of an old walk-up, and there’s a cheery doormat in front with a dog proclaiming “Wipe Your Feet” in a cartoon bubble from his mouth. The door itself looks like it’s been re-painted multiple times, and the walls are scuffed with harsh florescent lighting flickering ahead.
“Yeah, I don’t think she can really afford this visit,” Ryan remarks to me under his breath.
“Nope,” I agree softly. “But it’s not our place to judge how our clients use their money. If anything, it’s our place to convince them to spend more.”
He nods, his glance skittering to a mouse that just made an appearance in the corner of the hall.
“Still, the rent on this place can’t be more than two thousand per month. So what is she doing, hiring us for three thousand?”
I shrug.
“I have no idea, but it’s our job to please. Let the money do the talking,” I say.
After all, I have a sinking suspicion about this visit. Most likely, Amy Lee is going to be a seventy-year old woman in a wheelchair who’s hoping to have some fun before her twilight years come. What she doesn’t realize is that her twilight years are already here, and that we’ll likely help her out of her wheelchair, and then settle in for a few kisses and mugs of hot cocoa. It’s a little sad, but then again, I don’t mind spending my time that way. I’ve always loved women, even those in their seventh decade.
“I hope this works out,” Ryan mutters under his breath.
“Shh,” I hush. “I hear footsteps.”
Suddenly, the door swings open, and Ryan and I stare open-mouthed because the woman before us is no seventy year old crone. Instead, she’s a plush curvy girl who can’t be more than twenty-five. She’s wearing a mid-length plaid skirt with a red sweater on top, and she’s a vision with long, blonde hair and a plush pink pout. Holy shit, this is our new client? Suddenly, this visit has just become that much more titillating.
5
Amy
Oh my gosh, they’re here. The doorbell rings, and nervously, I smooth down my skirt. I’ve been a nervous frenzy ever since I made that call to Hot Nights NYC. I ran around my apartment, vacuuming and mopping like crazy before stopping myself. What the hell was I doing? These are gigolos that I’m hiring. I’m paying them money to put out. They’re not going to care if I have dust bunnies beneath my bed.
But then I went crazy with the personal grooming. I jumped into the shower and soaped up every part of me, including between my legs. I even took a razor and shaved myself smooth down there, titillated by the naughty feel. Again, I stopped myself. What the hell was I thinking? These men are being paid to adore me. I could be wearing garbage bags, and yet they’d still act like I was attractive and irresistible.