Free The Escort Next Door by Clara James

room.
    “Thank you,” I nodded, managing a nervy smile in return as I
stepped across the threshold. “I’m Arianna,” I murmured, remembering to use the
name I’d chosen for my call girl persona, rather than my real one. All the
girls used fake names, most of them were tacky: Destinee, Lotus, Candy that
kind of thing. I wanted something that sounded a little exotic and mysterious,
but was still classy. I unconsciously drew in a breath as I passed him and was
met with the earthy, spicy scent of whatever aftershave he’d just used.
Swallowing, I silently reminded myself that it didn’t matter what he smelled or
looked like. I was here to do a job.
    I couldn’t help but feel grateful that he was attractive, though.
Faking an interest in him would be made easier by the fact he was easy on the
eyes.
    “Can I get you a drink?” he asked, closing the door behind
him.
    I stopped in the room’s small living space. It wasn’t quite
a suite, but there were two comfortable chairs and a coffee table, with a brand
new TV on the wall and a minibar in the corner. Beyond that, in the open plan
space was the bed. It was a king size, with crisp white sheets, four plump
pillows and a beige bed scarf with the Hyatt Regency logo embroidered in the
corner. “Umm, yes, please,” I managed to softly mumble, remembering that he had
asked me a question.
    “What can I get you?” I added, already moving to the
minibar. “I’m on vodka myself,” he said pointing to the one liter bottle of
Smirnoff that was clearly not the hotels. “But you can have whatever you like.”
    “Vodka’s fine,” I quickly stated. With my rising nerves, the
stronger the alcohol, the better.
    “Great,” he nodded. “Take a seat,” he urged, grasping two
shot glasses and the bottle.
    As I settled into one of the armchairs, keeping a hand on
the hem of my dress to stop it riding too high, he took the few strides toward
me and tossed himself into the other seat. With a tired sigh, he slipped the
glasses onto the table and began unscrewing the bottle.
    “So, umm,” I softly mumbled, trying to think of something to
say. “What brings you here?”
    “Oh, just work,” he shrugged. “I was supposed to be heading
back yesterday, but my office messed up the arrangements and I had to stay
longer than planned.”
    “I see,” I nodded, watching him pour some of the crystal
clear liquid into each shot glass. “Sorry to hear that.”
    “It’s ok,” he quickly insisted. “I’m kind of glad now. If
I’d gone home Friday, I would have never had the opportunity to meet you,” he
smoothly said, placing the bottle down and lifting his glass as if to toast.
    Carefully, I reached for my own drink and lifted it to his.
We clinked the edges of the glasses together, before both swallowing the shot
whole. It instantly brought a flush of tears to my eyes and a burning to my
throat which I tried to mask, but a cough erupted despite my efforts.
    “Okay?” he asked, chuckling.
    “Yeah,” I assured him, hoarsely.
    He grinned skeptically, before accepting my word with a
brief nod. “Well,” he sighed, lifting himself from the chair just enough to
reach into his back pocket. “I said money wasn’t an object, but I’d like to get
it out of the way, if that’s all right with you,” he said, pulling the wallet
out and flipping it open.
    “Sure,” I replied.
    “That way, we can get on with enjoying the night, huh?”
    “Right,” I agreed. “Umm, exactly what services do you want
from me?” I wondered, embarrassment causing my cheeks to warm. I hoped he might
think the reddening was caused by the drink.
    “I was hoping you’d be able to spend about six hours with
me,” he unabashedly said. “Err, you offer full sex, right?”
    My mouth suddenly went very dry and I could only nod in
response.
    “Well, I don’t want anything too strange or out of the
ordinary,” he added. “I guess it’s called the umm, girlfriend experience?” he
finished with a