Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
The three of us were teamed up for a presentation. Our assignment was to lecture the class on a theory in moral philosophy. It was downright brutal. But the countless nights writing up that speech at the college pub led to a lifetime of friendship for the three of us.
George is the real joker of the group. He’s the one that used to always get us in trouble back in our college days, and I always got roped along, which is lucky for them because I was always the one with the know-how to get us out of whatever debacle we landed in.
I gave them both plenty of crap over the years, but I wouldn’t trade those memories for a million dollars. I mean, not that I have to. I don’t like to brag about it, but I’ve done pretty well for myself. I’m a banker on Wall Street, and it pays handsomely with a hefty salary and even bigger bonuses every year. As a result, I have the lifestyle to show for my hard work, and I enjoy taking advantage of it.
Fortunately, we all turned out to be extremely successful. Damon is a highly respected architect, designing the most prestigious up and coming skyscraper to be added to the iconic New York City skyline. And George is a management consultant working with corporations in the Forbes 500. Our careers have turned out to be more than we ever could have dreamed up back in our days on campus.
But every once in a while, things go crazy. And tonight is such a night, which is why I’m meeting an escort at the Hotel Indigo bar.
I blame George. That motherfucker bought me this date as a gag gift for my birthday. I tried to say no, but that idiot was so fucking pushy. He basically thrust a piece of paper into my hands with the profile of a girl named Rose on it. There wasn’t much to the biography, except for a head shot of a beautiful young woman. Too young, come to think of it.
“Think you handle her, Mr. Reed?” George snickered as he presented me with the card. “Or are you too geriatric?”
“Son of a bitch! You followed through,” Damon explained, practically rolling off the seat in the limo in amusement.
“He always does,” I responded flatly. Truthfully, I was impressed by the looks of the young woman, although I wasn’t about to let on. “But isn’t this illegal? Come on.”
George shrugged and grinned before saying that the agency only books the girls to meet for drinks. What does or doesn’t happen from there is entirely out of their hands. With this, he suggestively raised his eyebrows and handed me a room key.
“Just in case,” he said. My fingers closed around the key card although I know I shouldn’t have.
Now, as preposterous as it all is, I’m here. It was a great gag gift, and I didn’t want to be rude. Besides, it’s just drinks, right? I could use a night out in the city anyways. Work has been crazy lately, and as great as my penthouse is, a change of scenery is always nice at times like these.
The agency sent me a message just twenty minutes prior to our meeting time informing me that my date would be waiting for me at the last seat at the bar. They told me this “Rose” person is curvy, brunette, and wearing a red dress.
I instantly see her when I enter the room. She’s the only woman sitting alone at the bar, and she’s wearing an entrancing maroon dress, just like the agency said. The dress highlights her lush curves, squeezing her large breasts and tiny waist without being skanky. Her hair is a mass of curls hanging down her back, leading to long and slender legs below the bar. My mouth waters and I feel tempted already.
The only problem is, when she turns her head slightly, her delicate profile comes into view and my chest grows tight. This is no Rose. This is a woman I know, who happens to be using a fake hooker name.
I can’t believe it, but my escort tonight is my best friend Damon’s daughter.
What the hell is Lucy doing working as an escort? My friend makes a ton of money, so it can’t be financial stress. Is it just Lucy’s way of letting go? Is she acting out and exploring her wild side? Fuck. What do I do?
Even worse, I’ve known Lucy since she was a baby. As a teenager, she was always sort of chubby and awkward-looking, even if she was cute in her own way. She was insanely intelligent too, always huddled up in a corner somewhere reading a book. Lucy wore glasses, if I remember correctly, and had a mouthful of wire for her crooked teeth.