Emilia Jenkins @milliejenkins - Tumblr Blog

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Oh yes!!

Solo #41

I refused to openly look for him or even subtly try to find where Wes was seated within the ballroom. All the way thru dinner I kept my gaze straight ahead, or to the direct left and right to engage in conversation with the people on our table. But the entire way through dinner I felt eyes burning into the back of my head.

When the final course was done, I excused myself to go to the powder room .. that was 20 minutes ago.

I sit on the toilets seat in silence taking deep breaths while reminding myself that I can and, more importantly, I will do this. It’s one evening .. one evening in close proximity when I have no choice but to be polite .. and even then there’s no guarantee we’ll run into each other again. The worst could be over and I’m sitting in the toilet worrying about something that might not happen.

I palm my face and groan softly, then fall silent when several sets of heels clatter into the bathroom “Did you see her? She’s here with Mylo fucking Foster! Clearly a prostitute. Wes cant take his eyes off her and he won’t tell me how they know each other.”

Girl number two speaks up as a makeup bag is emptied out on the counter “Babe, you don’t worry about her. You’re so much better than ... that ... and Wes is lucky to have you, he knows that.”

There’s a snigger from someone and a third voice gives her opinion “Cheryl’s right, Jen. What self respecting woman takes money in exchange for sex. It’s vile.”

I stand from the toilet and flush the chain unnecessarily. The moment I emerge from the stall, I watch as one by one all three women spot me in the mirror and their amused smiles fade. I approach the basin and wash my hands then lean over for a lipstick “You don’t mind do you?” They all remain silent, watching my reflection as I apply a new coat of colour to my lips, nothing like my usual shade but it’ll do. I pucker my lips and pop the cap back in place then make a point of walking past the two women that I don’t know and hand it back to Jenna “Thanks. And if you don’t mind .. Jenny .. I prefer escort. Prostitute is just so unattractive and untrue .. I don’t charge for the sex” I move toward her and whisper loudly so the others can hear “I do that for free.”

Like a woman on a mission I head straight to the bar, as soon as I exit the bathroom, and request two glasses of champagne which are handed over almost immediately. I down the first under the watchful eye of the bartender and hand the glass back with a smile, then sip the second, finally relaxing until I feel the sensation of eyes on me once again.

The intoxicating scent of an aftershave, I’d come to know and love, engulfs my senses and I close my eyes when a hard chest presses against my back. I don’t move away or protest. Instead I stand paralysed on the spot while my hair is pulled away from my neck and laid on then opposite

shoulder “Dance with me.” The low voice in my ear sends a ripple thru me, my stomach tightens and my thighs clench. Damn him. I hate that he still has this affect on me.

I don’t have time to answer. The slow beat of the song, Say You Love Me by Jessie Ware, starts and Wes takes my hand in his, leading me toward the dance floor, ignoring the looks and whispers as we pass.

Our finger lace together and he turns so that we’re face to face. His other hand lands on my lower back and I’m pulled into his space, my chest flush with his.

I avert my eyes, looking anywhere but at him until he finally moves his mouth to my ear to speak “Tell me something .. Nova .. does he make you cum as hard as I used to?” I remind myself to breath and to stay calm. I could argue that it’s not like that with Mylo but I don’t want to give Wes the satisfaction, it’s none of his business. Instead I allow a smile to form on my lips and place my own mouth next to his ear, whispering back “He’s the best sex I’ve ever had.” His hand moves to my waist and grips tight. When he rights himself there’s a smile on his lips but that doesn’t distract me from the ticking of his jaw; amusement mixed with annoyance. His eyes search my face for a sign that I’m bluffing and when I don’t give him one he tightens his grip a little more and grits his teeth murmuring under his breath “Liar.”

I don’t give him the satisfaction of a response because that bothered tone in his voice has just satisfied me immensely.

He pulls me close once more and we remain silent, moving together to the slow beat of the music. Wes brings our joined hands to his chest while his other hand begins to stroke my lower back. My own hand moves from his shoulder to the base of his neck, my nails gently teasing his skin.

I always thought if the opportunity arose I’d have so much to say to him but now, in this moment, I’m lost for words. This isn’t the cold stranger I’d encountered the last couple of times we’d seen each other. Here and now, this is Wes as I knew him ... this is my Wes.

Solo #40

June 2016

I made it thru the following months unscathed, so to speak. Every client I came into contact with was a delight and each ‘meeting’ built on my confidence to the point the pre-meeting nerves were nonexistent.

I could honestly say I loved the job .. and all the perks (and money) that came along with it.

I’d seen Mylo on multiple occasions, each time was more lovely than the last. He’d become my favourite client and had possibly crept into the friend category. As I got to know him, he got to know me. The real me, Emilia Jenkins. Although I was always ‘Nova’ in public if he was introducing me to other people.

Tonight I had the pleasure of his company once more. An annual charity event, apparently a huge deal and big money, was being held on the upper east side with all of Manhattans elite society in attendance. In true Mylo fashion, being the gentleman he was, he’d arranged room for me in the hotel where the event was taking place and had had a selection of dresses, shoes and accessories sent to me. The instruction were very clear .. I was to chose what to wear tonight then keep the rest for future functions. Mylo would be by to collect me at 7:25pm.

No two dresses were the same in style, material or colour but each one was beautiful in it’s own right. You didn’t need to be a genius to work out that no expense had been spared here and, as I flicked through the rail, I knew whomever had selected these had impeccable taste.

I knew exactly which dress I was going to wear a soon as I saw it. The last one on the rail .. Top to bottom black lace, long lace sleeves with a straight cut bandeau top and a fishtail skirt. It was perfect.

The rapid rap of knuckles on my door at 7:25pm, on the dot, made me smile. Slipping the second diamond earring in place, I fling the door open and grin at the sight of my date. He looks so handsome in his tux and judging by the huge smile on his face, I know I chose the right dress for the evening.

Mylo steps across the threshold and kisses my cheek “You look gorgeous, Millie..” He takes a step back and asses me as I spin in a circle and place my hands on my hips “..somethings missing though.” He taps his chin and reaches into his jacket pocket, producing a black box “This will complete it.”

“Mylo, you really don’t need to give me anything else.” He remains silent, but the smile doesn’t fade, as opens the box to reveal a solitaire diamond pendant on a silver chain. I watch as he carefully removes the chain and motions for me to turn around so he can fasten it around my neck. Once it’s in place I spin back around to face him and he nods “Now that really is perfection. Shall we?” I loop my arm thru his and we head to the door “let’s.”

The ballroom is breathtaking. Candelabra’s and flowers litre every surface giving the room a more intimate feel, considering the vast size of it.

Filled with hundreds of people and millions of dollars worth of diamonds, it’s a sight I know I’ll never forget.

Every person we pass on our way to the bar stops to talk to Mylo and, of course out of politeness, speaks to me too. He’s a hit with the ladies, that’s for sure. And it’s very

obvious he could have brought any number of females to this function this evening, so the fact he chose to bring me makes me adore him that little bit more. I receive a few jealous gazes and insincere compliments on my outfit but I don’t care. I know I look good and I don’t need anyone’s approval but my clients because I’m here for him.

Mylo meanders his way thru the crowd, grasping my hand so that he doesn’t lose me, as we head to the bar. Once we reach our destination he smiles big “It’ll be less intimidating when we’re sat at the table, I promise.“

I turn to get the bartenders attention, smiling as I speak “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be-“

“Foster, i didn’t know you were in town.” The voice I thought I’d never hear again causes my entire body to go rigid. I can’t move and I can’t even breath. From the corner of my eye I watch as Mylo spins around and I hear a slap of a palm against a back.

“Wes! Good to see you. How’s things?”

The bartender approached and I give the drink order over, keeping my body facing forward while my head turns ever so slightly to listen to the conversation. Even when the drinks are placed in front of me I don’t move until Mylo’s hand grips my elbow, slowly spinning me around and pulling me to him. I hand him his drink with a smile then square my shoulders as I come face to face with the man I’d worked so hard to get over.

“Wes, allow me introduce my stunning date for the evening, Nova. Nova, this is Wes Tucker, he owns a couple of very successful clubs in the city that I’m sure you’ve likely been to.” Wes’s eyes lock on mine and the air leaves my lungs. I have no clue how he’s going to play this, whether he’ll act like a stranger or admit to knowing me. It takes a few seconds for him to move, like he’s deciding which way to play it, then he takes my hand and kisses the back of it “It’s nice to

see you .... Nova. It’s been a while.”

My smile is tight as i internally fight with the stampede galloping around in my stomach “It’s nice to see you, Wes.”

A clearing of a throat to his right causes me to avert my eyes and I see a woman standing extremely close. It’s not his wife. This woman has caramel coloured skin, blonde hair .. not natural because there’s a very distinct brown line at her roots. Her red lips curl up into a fake smile as she wraps herself around Wes’s arm “Hi. I’m Jenna. And you are?” She raises a thin eyebrow at the same time as her voice.

“Nice to meet you Jenny.” I don’t offer my name or my hand. The possessiveness she’s exuding both amuses and annoys me in equal measures. This woman doesn’t need to know who I am but she very clearly wants to.

“Jenna.” She corrects me and then drops the question again. “And you are...?”

Mylo’s, who’s been watching the entire exchange, slips his hand to my lower back and begins to guide me away “We are heading to our table.. excuse us. Nice to see you Wes. We’ll catch up later.” Only when we’re out of earshot does he lean in close “so he’s the one...”

I take a large gulp of my drink then turn to look at him when we reach our table, forcing a smile “the one?”

He pulls my chair out for me to sit and leans down to kiss me on the cheek when I take my seat “The one that broke your heart.”

Solo #39

The incident with Scott had left a sour taste in my mouth and opened my eyes to how some of these clients could be. While I wasn’t afraid, I did have to remind myself that the difference between this meetings and working at the club was security. The girls and I had that in abundance at the club, but on these meetings it was just me, myself and I.

For a lot of these men, money came with power. Scott had wanted to exert his power over me. The reality was I was happy to relinquish my time to be company for him, because I was paid to do so, but there was no amount of money that would ever make me relinquish my right to say no or walk away from a situation I wasn’t comfortable in.

Jordan had called me the next morning, as promised, expressing her apologies once more and to tell me she’d spoken to the client. Although he’d tried to argue his position, Jordan had stuck by what she had said to me the night before and removed him from the client list. She’d also reminded him that as he’d breached the contract first, we, as a company, were no longer legally bound to stick to the terms either.

I spent the next few weeks dividing my nights between work at the club and work for the agency, developing an equal enjoyment for both jobs.

The club gave me freedom to do as I pleased and the agency gave me a taste of a different lifestyle that I’d never be able to afford .. although my first salary deposit made me think otherwise for a short time. Money opened a lot of doors that would normally be shut to someone like me.

I was taken to the nicest restaurants, served the finest food and champagne on offer, and welcome into the most exclusive clubs in the city, without having to queue.

Some of the clients were good fun, some not so much but they’d never know I thought that. I’d become extremely good at faking my enjoyment where necessary and made the best of every situation I was thrown into .. because that’s what I was paid to do.

Solo #38

I’ve been in the apartment no more than 5 minutes when a knock on the door has me freezing on the spot. It’s gone 11pm, Amber is at work and all I want to do is go to bed after that complete shambles of a job. I remain perfectly still in the hopes that whoever is on the other side of that door leaves.

“Millie? It’s Jordan.” The sound of my bosses voice makes me wince. The fact she’s here can’t be a good thing. I take a deep breath and mentally prepare myself for the verbal dressing down I’m about to receive, then pull the door open.

Worry is etched on her face and she quickly assessed me before taking a step over the threshold and wrapping her arms around my shoulders, cutting off my own words of apology “Oh honey, I’m so sorry you had to go thru that.” She pulls back and looks at me again “Are you ok?”

I’m in a state of confusion. This incident literally only happened three quarters of an hour ago so I have no clue how she’s heard about it already “I’m fine. I’ve dealt with worse people at the club.” It’s true, I have. The rules clearly become confusing to men, drunken man in particular, that they’re paying for the dance .. not the privilege of pawing my body. I tilt my head slightly “Did he call you?”

She shakes her head, walking towards the mirror and retrieving a lipgloss from her purse. It’s only then I notice the beautiful formal dress she’s currently wearing.

“No, but a client and friend of mine who was at that casino did. He knew you were one of my girls straight away. Said the guy was an obnoxious pig. Apparently he wasn’t welcome in the casino much longer after you left.” She chuckles softly then turns to look at me “You did nothing wrong and everything right. My girls safety is all I care about, so I’m glad you got out of there. If a quick blowjob was what he was looking for he should have called someone else, not the Cloud. When I speak to Scott tomorrow I’ll let him know that our services will no longer be available to him, because he’s being removed from our client list. I’ll also let him know that the refund he’s likely to demand will most definitely not be happening.

No deductions will be made by the company either. I’ll have accounts send the full amount to you for your troubles on pay day.”

Jordan invades my personal space once more and kisses my cheek.

“I’m so glad you’re ok. Now get some sleep and pretend this was all just a bad dream. I’ve got to get back to an event otherwise my friend will think I’ve abandoned him for good. I’ll call you tomorrow, ok?”

“Sure. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.” I give my boss a genuine smile as she sashays out the door, closing it behind her, then finally release the breath I’d been holding.

Solo #37

The nerves were just as present for my second client as they had been for my first. I only hoped that they’d dissipate as quickly.

I’d changed several times before finally deciding to play it safe with another little black dress that stopped just above the knee and didn’t reveal too much cleavage. Amber had lent me the cutest pair of sandals and matching clutch, because accessories really do matter. I’d spent far too long straightening, then curling, my hair. Only end up tying it up in a high pony tail and I’d gone heavy on the eye makeup as encouraged by Amber.

Jordan had emailed me the instructions and, unlike last night, I was to head straight to the destination (a casino) where the client would be waiting for me to arrive. I’d learnt my lesson when I’d arrived early last night, so tonight I had arrived on time.

Scott had been waiting in the lobby with a drink in each hand when I’d arrived. His dirty blonde hair was flopping down his forehead, accentuating his boyish good looks. The top button of his shirt was undone and tie had been loosened, revealing a spattering of chest hair. Scott’s smile had widened when he’d seen me, emphasising his cute dimples and the lines around his eyes which made it a little harder to guess his age. I’d hidden my own smile as he’d approached me, unnecessarily puffing out his chest and tilting his chin up. He didn’t need to try to impress me, his money had paid for me to be here with him.

A sloppy kiss was planted on my cheek in greeting and the stench of alcohol on his breath, which meant he’d either been here quite a while or could sink drinks quicker than a drain, lingered in the air between us. A glass of champagne was thrust in my hand, it’s contents sloshing over the side and hitting my dress which he either didn’t seem to notice or didn’t care enough acknowledge and apologise.

My dad has also drilled in to my sister and I that we should never accept drinks from strangers .. Scott would not be an exception to that rule no matter how much he’d paid for the drink.

Every meeting I had with a client, unless specified otherwise, was to last for 5 hours. Within a half an hour of being in the casino I’d wanted to leave. It was true that money could buy many things, but it couldn’t buy class.

Scott was everything that Mylo wasn’t. He was obnoxiously loud, he wanted everyone around the high roller craps table to know his money was burning a hole in his pocket and he had a serious case of grabby hands. My subtle rejection of every touch didn’t go unnoticed and the more I politely removed his hands the more he did it.

With an arm draped over my shoulder, he pulls me close and whispers the word “Blow” into my ear. Holding his hand close to my mouth, I purse my lips and do as he demands before he sends the dice down the table. I yelp in shock when his hand smacks against my ass and then squeezes hard. Scott growls against my ear and it doesn’t cause me to squirm in pleasure, not like Wes’s growl did. It makes me go ridged. With his mouth back against my ear he mumbles loudly “I’ve got something else you can blow.”

“Please keep your hands to yourself.” I bite the words out as quietly as possible so as not to bring more attention to us than he already has.

“I don’t think so.” Scott makes a grab for me again and I pull away from him, taking a large step back, my head shaking from side to side as he looks at his watch while chugging down the contents of his glass. I watch in silence as he drags his hand down his face then points an accusing finger at me “Don’t fucking embarrass me in front of these people. You’re here to do a job and when I take you upstairs you’re going to do it.”

I square my shoulders and shake my head once more “I think there’s been a huge misunderstanding here when it comes to what my job is this evening. Because I promise you I’m not about to suck your pencil dick.” The clients face changes colour to bright red; from embarrassment or fury I can’t decide.

“You fucking whore.” The words are slurred as he spits them out. I don’t flinch a muscle. Instead I smile politely and pull my cell from my clutch before turning my back on him.

“Goodnight, Scott.”

Solo #37

“A Successful evening was it?” With my head resting on the table, I peel my eyes open and give a low grunt in response to my roommates question.

“There’s really no need to shout. Use your indoor voice .. please.” The last word is a plea and a soft chuckle emanates from her throat as she places the coffee pot between us on the table and takes the seat opposite, her eyebrows raised up her forehead waiting for me to say something “Is it against the rules to get exceptionally drunk while on the job?”

“Are you kidding? That’s how I get through the majority of my meetings with these men.” She smirks and gives me a wink “Sooooo … you’re no longer virgin on the escort front. How did it go? Tell me everything.” I right myself, pouring a large mug of coffee and smile as I briefly recount the details of the nights events. It had definitely been a success. I’d even go as far to say it had been enjoyable.

Mylo had been a gentleman to the end. There was no crudeness, no leering and no innuendos. He was very respectful at all times, ensuring that hands didn’t touch places they shouldn’t and that the conversation never steered into uncomfortable territory. It clearly hadn’t been his first rodeo, and as much as I tried to

hide it, I think he was well aware it was mine … even though he didn’t say anything.

A few bad jokes on his part and laughs on mine meant that any initial awkwardness I’d felt had vanished by the time I’d finished my first glass of wine. From that moment on, conversation, much like the drinks, had flowed easily.

It had become abundantly obvious, very quickly why he’d decided to call on the agency. Mylo hadn’t been looking for a hookup. He’d needed to talk, and I let him. While a therapist of some sorts may have actually been cheaper than the rate the agency charged, I listened without judgement and with genuine interest.

He’d even shown interest in me and my life which had been unexpected.

We’d left the bar and walked the 100yards down the road, talking the entire way, to a cute Italian restaurant that was tucked down an ally.

By the time we sat down and ordered our food, I’d learned a lot more about the man than I had expected to. I’d heard about his stressful job, the exceptionally messy divorce that he was currently going through and the fact his children blamed him for their family falling apart. He’d explained his decision to walk away from his wife. How it hadn’t been easy and he’d tried so hard to make it work .. but the fact was he’d fallen out of love with her and they both deserved more than being stuck in a loveless marriage. I respected him for that.

His openness about his chaotic life and crazy lifestyle, now that he was a single man, was a pleasant surprise and in return, probably due to the large quantity of wine I consumed throughout the evening, I found myself being as equally honest with him when his attention and interest turned to me and my life. It was one of those night where you

lose track of your surroundings and whats going on because you’re so engaged in the person sitting opposite you.

“If all the clients are as nice as Mylo, then I’m looking forward to the next job already.”

Amber laughs softly taking a generous mouthful of her own drink “Which is when?”

My phone pings on cue and I read the message from Jordan, my lips quirking at the corners as I place my cell back down on the table and lift my cup to my lips “Tonight.”

Solo #36

“This was a terrible idea. A. Terrible. Idea.” I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, mumbling to myself, and flap my hands at my face to trying to create some air circulation in order to calm myself down. The little black dress, that Amber had selected because it fits like a second skin, now feels far too tight and I tug at the stretchy material to let my skin breath.

I’ve arrived early because I wanted to make a good impression .. now I’m wishing I’d arrived late because waiting for him to turn up is horrible. I wonder what the chances of him not turning up are? Maybe he’ll change his mind and won’t be too bothered about losing a four figure sum of money. I roll my eyes at the unlikely thought.

I think I feel more nervous now than I did when I danced for the first time on stage.

Tonight is my first client meeting. My first night representing Cloud 9. I don’t just want to make a good impression for me but also for the agency.

I know nothing about him, other than his name is Mylo. And according to Amber that probably isn’t even his real name. Most men use an alias or opt to use their middle names so they can’t be traced. Tonights arrangement is simple; dinner and drinks. I’d made it very clear to Jordan that I had no desire to go back to anyones hotel room and, apparently, Mylo has no desire for that either.

The agency had arranged for us to meet in mutual territory, and I’m currently hiding in the bathroom of it. I take another deep breath and wash my hands, groaning as my stomach

knots completely “Eurgh .. this was such a terrible idea.”

I emerge from the bathroom and head straight to the bar, grabbing the bartenders attention with a smile. He’s good looking and the cocky smile he gives me in return tells me he knows it. He’s clearly the kind of guy who leaves with a different female every night after his shift is finished. My eyes flick down to his name tag as ‘Matt’ leans in with an eyebrow raised “What can I get you, beautiful?”

“I’ll take a shot of whatever you have to hand and a white wine spritzer please, Matt.” He pushes back with a laugh and produces a shot of something almost instantaneously. The small glass doesn’t even touch the bar, just transfers from his hand to mine and I knock it back. He grabs a bottle of wine and starts making my other drink, heavy on the wine, light on the spritz “First date?”

I laugh and nod my head as a glass is slide towards me and I hand over my money “Something like that.” Matts eye divert from my face to whoever is standing next to me, his face falling slightly as he takes a step back and moves along to serve someone else.

“Nova?” I plaster a smile on my face and turn to look at the man standing beside me with a nod of my head. Like the clients, I’m not using my real name either. Jordan insisted on it. Although the agency run background checks on every member, according to her you can never be too careful.

“You must be Mylo.” I hold out my hand and he smiles, taking it as he climbs onto the stool next to me. “I’ve just ordered a drink. Would you like one? Or we can go to-?” He waves a hand to stop me from finishing that sentence, then hold his hand up to grab the attention of Matt.

“A drink sounds good. I need to settle the nerves.” He gives playful wink and I reach for my glass, nodding my head. He’s not nervous, that much is obvious, but I appreciate the gesture because he can clearly see I am. His relaxed composure settles me a little and I focus on his profile while he orders his drink.

If I had to hazard a guess, by the amount of grey in his hair and the laughter lines in the corner of his eyes, I’d say Mylo was in his mid forties. There’s no wedding band but I can see the faint line on his ring finger which suggests he’s either removed it to feel less guilty or it was recently removed for good. He’s a good looking guy. Why he needs an escort is a little lost on me. I twist my stool so that I’m facing him and sip my drink. With his drink in hand he turns to look at me and smiles, clinking his glass against mine “To first encounters.”

Solo #35

I don’t know why I’m doing this to myself. It’s like a form of self harm or torture. The pain reminds me that it was real. Although he’s far from being a distant memory, I need to remind myself that it did really happen and it wasn’t all in my head.

I stare at the box that sits on my bed as I chew on my bottom lip. I’ve been sitting here, cross legged for approximately 20 minutes plucking up the courage “Come on Millie .. get it together” I take a breath and remove the lid, then lean forward ever so slightly to peer inside.

To the untrained eye it looks like a simple cell phone .. but I know different. This is a device that has the power to hurt me in ways that shouldn’t be possible. I know I should replace the lid and stuff the box back into the land of forgotten under my bed but I don’t. Of course I don’t. Where would the fun be in that?

Instead I reach in to the box, pull the device out and power it up. My heart thumps in my chest. I don’t know what I’m expecting will happen but I know what I’m hoping for. I’d changed my number the day I changed my phone, so up until a certain point, people would have still be messaging me on this phone, not realising I’d switched it off.

The pings fire thru like gunshots in a saloon shootout. My phone dances in my hand, vibrating like …

The names move up the screen as each new notification comes thru but the one name I’m desperate to see doesn’t appear. Deep down I’d known there wouldn’t be any messages or missed calls from him, after all he’d walked away from me, yet I’d held on to that little bit of hope.

I click on to the inbox and scroll until I find what I’m looking for. The message exchange. I’m a complete glutton for punishment, I know that. I scroll back, re-reading messages that he sent me; messages from months ago to the last day we spoke. Message that had made me laugh, made my heart skip a beat or made my legs clamp together. The “Woman, you’re crazy” messages when I’d send him something that I thoughtwas hilarious, the “I miss you” messages, and probably my most favourite which he sent only days before he left me “We’re good together”. My lower lip quivers and I take several deep breaths to bring my emotions under control. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.” I repeat the words like a mantra, willing the pools in my eyes to disperse and the lump in my throat to vanish as quickly as it appeared.

I take one last look at his words then shut the phone down again. I look up to the ceiling when I drop it back into the box, then focus as I secure the lid and stand to slide the box back under my bed … until next time.

Solo #34

As soon as her guest had left the apartment, Amber had sat down with me and told me everything she could about the company, about the job and what it entailed using her own experiences ad those of some of the other girls as reference points. She didn’t sugarcoat shit which I loved. Brutal honesty. Could you go on these meeting and be yourself? No. You were part of a fantasy and your job was to sell the dream for those few hours these men technically owned your ass. They weren’t all boring and a lot of these men were actually very attractive. They all respected the rules otherwise they were off the books, so there was never any danger of the client overstepping. If something was gifted to you, that was yours. The company took no percentage or ownership of it. Amber managed to get by on 2 meeting a week and still keep her job at the club. If more work was offered from the agency, she took it without question, if she was able to cover her shift, because the pay outweighed the club by a huge margin. The more I listened, the more interested I became but there was something niggling in the back of my mind that stopped me from committing.

I spent days deliberating. I read through and went over the contract with a fine tooth comb to make sure that I was understanding what I was reading and wasn’t missing anything of importance.

Jordan Boyce didn’t seem surprised, in the slightest, to receive a phone call from me a few days after our initial meeting. She did however seem surprised that I wanted to meet up with her again.

That afternoon I was back in the coffee shop where we’d had our original meeting, sitting at the same table with my coffee and waiting for her to arrive.

I check my watch just as the door to the cafe swings open and she struts in, bypassing the counter and heading straight to the table “I’m glad you called.” She smiles big as she takes the seat opposite me and grabs my drink, taking a mouthful of my coffee “So, I’m assuming you read thru the contract?” I nod my head and she continues “And Amber was able to answer any questions you had?” I nod again “Excellent. So, I’m going to assume that you haven’t asked to meet me today to let me down gently.” This time I shake my head and Jordan’s grin widens further, literally stretching from ear to ear..

“I haven’t.” I reach into my purse and retrieve the brown envelop which she’d handed me only a few days earlier. The seal, although broken, has been secured with a strip of scotch tape “I wanted to return this to you. It’s been completed … and signed.” I watch as Jordan peels the scotch tape off and removes the contract from it’s pocket. Slowly flicking thru each page to ensure I’ve completed all he relevant sections and signed all the required dotted lines, only when she’s reached the final page does she look up at me and stretch her hand across the table for me to take.

“Well this just made my day! Welcome to Cloud 9, Emilia Jenkins, you’re going to love it.”

Solo #33

“An escort service? Really?” I pin Amber with glare when she emerges from her room the same moment I walk through the front door of her apartment. Her wild hair sticks up all over the place and she smiles at me, quickly covering her mouth as she yawns.

“Oh good, you went. How did it go?” She doesn’t wait for my response. Instead she makes her way straight to the kitchen where I can smell the coffee brewing, and waves for me to follow her.

“You could have warned me.” I frown and take a seat as she grabs 3 mugs from the shelf, filling each to the brim with a mischievous grin on her face.

“I could have but would you have gone if you’d known?” My flatmate fixes me with a stare, as she passes me a mug, an annoyingly knowing smirk on her face. There’s not point in delaying answering her question. I know the answer and so does she “No, probably not.”

“There’s no ‘probably’ about it, Millie. We both know you wouldn’t have gone.” She grabs her own cup, grinning as she sips then continues her speech ”I did you a favour. It’s amazing money for little input. You just literally have to turn up, look pretty and make pointless conversation. You are capable of all of these thing. And, bonus, you don’t have to take your clothes off to get paid .. but if you want get laid, that’s ok too, and I’d encourage it because you need some action.” Her eyes drop down to the brown envelop that sits on the table, unopened “Just promise me you’ll read thru and seriously consider it. I think you’d make a killing. Just remember, if you decide to go ahead with it, be truthful with you’re answers on that thing. Especial when it comes to what you’re willing to do. A little unexpected extra doesn’t hurt but an extra that’s paid for and not delivered..” She shakes her head from side to side slowly “These men don’t like that. They pay money and they expect to receive the service they’re paying for.” Amber reaches for the other cup of coffee and smirks nodding to her room “Just give me ad hour to say goodbye and then I’ll answer any questions.”

“Take your time!” I call after her as she makes her way back to her bedroom and whoever is in there, shaking my head as the door clicks. With my elbows on the table, I lace my fingers and allow my gaze to fall back down to the envelop, sitting in silence as I continue to stare it down like it’s a star witness in a courtroom. My teeth chew on my bottom lip as I dare myself to open it, while remaining perfectly still and reminding myself that I don’t actually have to sign anything that I don’t want too. I have a good job, I make decent money … but … I know Amber wouldn’t have put me forward for this job if it didn’t benefit me one way or another. I take a sip the coffee, inhale a deep breath and, before I can change my mind, take the envelop in one hand and rip the seal with the other.“An escort service? Really?” I pin Amber with glare when she emerges from her room the same moment I walk through the front door of her apartment. Her wild hair sticks up all over the place and she smiles at me, quickly covering her mouth as she yawns.“Oh good, you went. How did it go?” She doesn’t wait for my response. Instead she makes her way straight to the kitchen where I can smell the coffee brewing, and waves for me to follow her. “You could have warned me.” I frown and take a seat as she grabs 3 mugs from the shelf, filling each to the brim with a mischievous grin on her face.“I could have but would you have gone if you’d known?” My flatmate fixes me with a stare, as she passes me a mug, an annoyingly knowing smirk on her face. There’s not point in delaying answering her question. I know the answer and so does she “No, probably not.”“There’s no ‘probably’ about it, Millie. We both know you wouldn’t have gone.” She grabs her own cup, grinning as she sips then continues her speech ”I did you a favour. It’s amazing money for little input. You just literally have to turn up, look pretty and make pointless conversation. You are capable of all of these thing. And, bonus, you don’t have to take your clothes off to get paid .. but if you want get laid, that’s ok too, and I’d encourage it because you need some action.” Her eyes drop down to the brown envelop that sits on the table, unopened “Just promise me you’ll read thru and seriously consider it. I think you’d make a killing. Just remember, if you decide to go ahead with it, be truthful with you’re answers on that thing. Especial when it comes to what you’re willing to do. A little unexpected extra doesn’t hurt but an extra that’s paid for and not delivered..” She shakes her head from side to side slowly “These men don’t like that. They pay money and they expect to receive the service they’re paying for.” Amber reaches for the other cup of coffee and smirks nodding to her room “Just give me ad hour to say goodbye and then I’ll answer any questions.”“Take your time!” I call after her as she makes her way back to her bedroom and whoever is in there, shaking my head as the door clicks. With my elbows on the table, I lace my fingers and allow my gaze to fall back down to the envelop, sitting in silence as I continue to stare it down like it’s a star witness in a courtroom. My teeth chew on my bottom lip as I dare myself to open it, while remaining perfectly still and reminding myself that I don’t actually have to sign anything that I don’t want too. I have a good job, I make decent money … but … I know Amber wouldn’t have put me forward for this job if it didn’t benefit me one way or another. I take a sip the coffee, inhale a deep breath and, before I can change my mind, take the envelop in one hand and rip the seal with the other.

Solo #32

1st January 2016

When the clock had struck midnight, I’d been glad to say goodbye to 2015. I refused to dwell on the events of the past year a moment longer and would not let … him … take up anymore space in my head. While most people had continued drinking way past the magic hour, I’d stopped after a celebratory glass of champagne, that was handed out to everyone, to see in the new year. I finished my shift considerably more sober than I’d started it and while the majority of people went off to continue the good time, I went home.

The card that Amber had passed to me earlier in the night was burning a hole in my pocket and when I was tucked up in bed, I sat with it between my thumb and forefinger while I opened up Google on my phone. I had no clue what she was getting me into and if I was going to go to a meeting, or interview of sorts, I wanted to know what to expect.

I typed ‘Cloud 9’ in to the search engine and a number of existing businesses are immediately listed. There are no other specific details on the card other than the Directors name, so I try again using that and am taken to a locked website that requires a name and membership number in order to go any further.

I scrunched my nose and, none the wiser, laid my phone down on my bedside table along with the business card, thankful that I didn’t have an alarm set for the morning.

I get to the coffee shop with plenty of time to spare. Of course, even though I’m not hungover in the slightest, I keep my unnecessary sunglasses in place as I order my latte, then find a seat in the back corner. I’m 20 minutes early but I’m only waiting for 5 minutes before an attractive blonde, carrying an oversized purse, walks through the door. Amber didn’t tell me what to expect when it came to Jordan Boyce, but as I watch her survey the cafe after placing her drink order, and her lips curl up at the corners when her head turns in my direction, I know it’s her.

She grabs her cup and walks toward me, shoulders back, boobs out and head up. All the confidence in the world. Her free hand reaches out for mine and we shake as she introduces herself while taking the seat opposite mine. Jordans voice is husky, the kind of voice you’d expect of someone who’s smoked 40 cigarettes a day for about 50 years, yet she can’t be a day of 35 and there’s not a scent of a cigarette around her.

I freeze in my seat as she reaches forward, removes my glasses and lays them on the table while smiling at me “Amber wasn’t wrong. You’ll be perfect.”

My eyebrows shoot up my forehead and I begin to shift uncomfortably in my seat “I’m sorry .. Perfect for what?” I maintain eye contact and offer a confused smile as I explain “Ms. Boyce. I don’t even know why I’m here. Amber has told me nothing. She handed me your card last night and told me I was meeting you today.”

She laughs softly and reaches into her bag to produce a brown envelope which she lays between us “I could kill that girl at times.” She take a mouthful of her drink and I see her shoulders relax as she mumbles how good it is then fixes me with a stare “First, please call me Jordan. I founded Cloud 9 about 5 years a go. I started small with just a handful of girls and over the years my clientele portfolio has expanded beyond what I thought was possible. As my business grows, I need to ensure I can meet the demand by having enough girls. Amber has worked for me for nearly a year and told me that I had to meet with you because you’d be perfect for the job.”

“What job?”

Jordan Boyce chuckles softly over the rim of her cup before taking another sip, I get the feeling she enjoys this part which makes me slightly worried and after a few moments of silence she finally speaks “Cloud 9 is a high end escort service. We offer our services to the wealthier men of the city and those services can range from coffee, dinner, a business trip to a holiday…” I groan inside as I listen to Jordan explain. What the hell has Amber gotten herself into?!

I hold my hand up to stop her talking “Ms. Boyce .. Jordan .. I really think there’s been some misunderstanding. I realise that I work as an exotic dancer, but I’m not a hooker.” The laugh that erupts from her causes a few people to turn to look at us and I just stare.

“Millie, I would never insult you by assuming such a thing. As an escort of the company you dictate your limits to me. Yes, some of my girls may have sex with their clients but that is their choice and certainly not something I would demand. These men, and sometimes women, put their request in and we match them to the ideal girl for the job. All new clients are vetted thoroughly. I would never put one of my girls in a dangerous situation.” She lays her hand on the envelope and smiles across at me “In here is a contract. Read through it. It details the specifics of the company, what you can expect from us and what, we in turn, would expect from you. Speak to Amber too. She’ll be able to fill you in with a little more information and the perks of the jobs.” Jordan drains her cup then stretches her hand out again and I shake it as she stands “You’ve got my number. I really hope to hear from you soon. Like I said, you’d be perfect.”

And with that she’s gone.

Solo #31

31st December 2015

November blurred in December. Although I was completely cried out the pain remained unbearable. It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced in my life up to that point. I felt broken and I was most definitely a mess. I spent the first couple of weeks drowning my sorrows in any bottle I could lay my hands on until Amber had turned up at my door and barged her way into my apartment. She’d proceeded to clear my fridge and cupboards of all remaining alcohol and rotten food, while telling me to get a grip and pack a bag because I was going to stay with her.

According to some glossy, overpriced magazine, it takes approximately 6 weeks for most people to adjust to life without their ex. So why wasn’t I over him?? I’d well and truly surpassed the 6th week and was coming to the end of the 8th, still pining for a man who had made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing to do with me, and I felt pathetic.

I was constantly reminding myself I’d survived 21 years of my life without Wes Tucker in it, I’d be fine without him .. eventually.

He’d not been back to the club since the night of that dance, or if he had, I’d not been there to see him and I hadn’t been told about it. I was under the impression that Amber had demanded that no one mention his name in front of me, and I was thankful that. Though I remained curious, even I knew I was better off not knowing.

I’d thrown myself into work, picking up extra shifts at the club to keep myself occupied and when I wasn’t at work I was either in the studio, because dancing was my release, or I was being roped in to attending some kind of workout class.

Thanksgiving and Christmas had been every bit as dreadful as I’d imagined they would be. Not because Wes wasn’t around but because my family wouldn’t let the subject go.

I’d always loved New Years Eve. For me it was the chance to reflect on the year past and prepare for the new one ahead. While people planned their new year resolutions, that would ultimately be broken in a matter of weeks, and made promises to better themselves in some way.. that few ever saw through. I celebrated the fact that I’d made it through another year of life in one piece, but this year was different because, as cliched a it likely sounded, I’d definitely not made it through in one piece.

I sit at my dressing table and knock my third generous measure of vodka back in one hit, completely ignoring the look of disapproval coming from my right as I swirl an ice cube around in my mouth “There is still 2 hours until midnight.”

I smile at my reflection and slowly turn to face Amber “Which means there is 2 more hours of this shit year to endure. Vodka makes it better.” She remains silent for a few minutes while I attempt to do my eyeliner. After the third failed attempt she grabs the brush out of my hand and tells me to face her. Seconds later she lays the brush down on my table along with a small piece of card.

“What’s this?” I look down and read the limited details on the business card; Miss Jordan Boyce, Director. It lists her number and the company name “Cloud 9?”

I raise an eyebrow as Amber turns back to her own reflection and starts fluffing her hair while nodding her head “Jordan's expecting to meet you tomorrow afternoon at the coffee shop around the corner from the apartment. 2pm. Don’t be late.”

Solo #30

My sassy attitude wavered as soon as I pushed thru the ‘Staff Only’ door. By the time I’d made it to the changing room it had dissolved to nothing. I wanted to run straight back on to the floor to apologise. I wanted to beg for answers. I needed to know what I’d done to deserve this and to be treated this way.

As I’d turned back to the door, Amber had stood in my path shaking her head slowly from side to side. Her arms had wrapped around me because she’d known exactly where I’d been about to go and what I’d been about to do “He’s gone. The whole party just left after your dance ended.”

She held me tight while I’d cried. Once I started I couldn’t stop. All I was able to think about was the look of disgust on his face and the coldness in his voice when I’d handed him his drink .. those words “Did you want something?” Were his final words to me that would stick in my mind forever.

I’d slumped down on the nearest stool and sobbed at the thought, with my head in my hands.

When Rick had come looking for me 15 minutes later, Amber had made up some bullshit excuse about me twisting my ankle. To his credit, as much as Rick cared about the clients, he cared about us girls more. He’d instructed Amber to take me home straight away so I could rest. Neither of us argued with him.

Ambers words of comfort, much like her initial advice, had fallen on deaf ears. The entire car journey back to my apartment she tried convincing me that I deserved so much better than a married man who could never fully commit or stop getting his cock wet elsewhere. All I could do was nod my head and continue looking out the window.

I gave myself a week. I cut myself off from the world, drunk more alcohol than I’ll ever admit to, listened to sad songs and watched movies that made my heart ache just a little bit more. The urge to call him .. to message him .. to even go and try to see him, was strong. Like a gravitational pull that I had to fight every single day because the only thing worse than not speaking to him was giving him the satisfaction of knowing I’d tried contacting him. I scrolled through my phone, re-reading message exchanges and looking at pictures I’d taken of him and of us. In every one we’re wither smiling, kissing, just fucked or being silly. I’d finished on the most recent

one taken on my birthday and stared foe a good 20 minutes. No matter how much I was hurting I couldn’t bring myself to delete them because in those moments I’d been blissfully happy with the man I love … loved. Finally I made the decision to order a new phone with a new number. I’d archive the memories in a box under my bed and maybe one day I’d revisit them and be able to smile. Unfortunately it wasn’t so easy to rid myself of the memories we’d made in my apartment. Everywhere I looked, there was a memory attached. A memory of Wes. This was exactly why I hadn’t wanted him to come here in the first place. Bastard.

#Youtube

Solo #29

I didn’t sleep well in the slightest. I closed my eyes and all I was able to see was Wes with her; the raven haired woman. I had gone to the club looking for answers and while I’d found one answer about where I stood, a million new questions had now popped up. How had they met? How long had they been seeing each other? Because they definitely looked comfortable last night. Why had he spent my birthday with me if he planned on ending us? Why wasn’t I enough?

My stomach was in knots and as the internal battle raged on, I finally gave in to the tears that were fighting to come out. I’d cried until I’d fallen asleep and woken this morning with sore eyes and a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

The little bit of hope that I’d been holding on to .. the hope that everything would return to normal .. had finally vanished. I’d laid in bed unmoving with my covers pulled up to my chin as I hug my pillow. Amber’s words continuously swam around my mind all day. I’d been discarded like so many others and replaced just as quickly without a second thought.

That’s how I’d stayed all day. Staring blankly at my lifeless phone and unmoving except to go to the bathroom or get a drink. I had no desire to eat and sleep would not take me.

Work tonight would be the welcome distraction I needed to forget .. even just for a few minutes. As I push through the door to the changing room, there’s already a vodka on ice waiting for me on my dressing table. Amber’s sat at her usual space next to mine and when I catch her eye in the mirror she’s turn around to look at me, a sympathetic smile on her face that makes me laugh and shake my head “Don’t look at me like that. You’ll make me cry.” Even as I say the last word, a sting hits my nose and my eyes begin to fill.

She grabs the drink and hands it to me “I’ll make sure you have these on tap all night. He doesn’t deserve your tears.” I down half the drink as I take my seat and nod my head. I can’t speak. If I speak I’ll cry for sure. Instead I grab my makeup and start applying because tonight I definitely need it.

Half an hour later the door to the changing room cracks open and Ricks voices comes booming from the other side of it. “Millie, I need you on the floor doing some table service before you dance. One of the waitresses called out sick.” I roll my eyes at Amber who laughs as I shout back that I’ll be right out. Then I stuff my feet in my shoes and head out to the club.

There’s definitely a buzz in the air tonight. It’s busy which I like because busy means more dances and more dances means more money. I go straight to the bar, smiling seductively as I pass multiple men, and grab the tray as it’s handed over by the bartender with the instruction to deliver to “Table 10”. I turn on my heels and hold my breath. The crowd parts as if knowing where I’m heading and I freeze. This can’t seriously be happening. Wes Tucker is sat in his usual seat, surrounded by the familiar party of men. This time it’s not just men he’s brought with him .. there are women too; Women who don’t work at the club but definitely don’t look out of place. Then I see her. She barges thru the crowds and takes a seat on his lap. Much like last nights dress, tonights leaves nothing to the imagination. I take a deep breath to compose myself and continue walking forward, slowly placing one foot in the front of the other until I draw level with the table. He doesn’t turn as I distribute the drinks so I grab his whiskey and purposely walk in front of him, blocking his view of the stage so he has too choice but to look at me. I remain motionless and silent, holding his drink firmly as he outstretches a hand to take it from me. When I don’t pass it over he finally speaks. His tone is laced with something that’s close to annoyance … or maybe even disgust “Did you want something?” His eyebrow raises and I smile sweetly as I hand the drink over. I lean in close enough for him to smell my skin. With my mouth next to his ear I whisper softly “Enjoy the show, Mr. Tucker.”

I refuse to make any more deliveries to his table while I’m out on the floor. Why the hell is he here? Why the fuck did he bring her? If he wanted to get the message across, there was really no need. He succeeded perfectly last night.

Every time I walk past, or close enough to, where he’s sat I can feel his eyes burning into my skin. I refuse to look at him and the moment I’m called back stage by Rick I feel like I can breath again.

I change my outfit in record time and wait for the music of the current dancer to finish before I take my place on the stage. As soon as my music kicks in, JoJo - 'Marvin's Room, the lights turn red on the stage and I start moving more seductively than I think I’ve ever moved before. If he wants to put on a show for me, then I’ll gladly put one on for him too. I grind up and down the pole, moving around it slowly, my eyes never leaving his. A smirk passes over my lips at the chorus’ words and I see his jaw tick. Half was through my dance I crawl to the edge of the stage and slip down, my attention moving to the table directly next to Wes’s. I climb into the lap of the first man I see and begin to grind, giving the lucky guy a personal lap dance for free. My lips graze up his neck but my eyes stay focused on Wes the whole time, making sure he’s still watching, which he is. His clenched fist doesn’t go unnoticed and I smirk when he pushes the brunette away as she tries to whisper something in his ear. The music begins to fade and I’m feeling generous so I end the dance with a single kiss on the lips. I climb of the guys lap, as all his buddies whistle and applaud their friend, and head to the ‘Staff Only’ entrance, not affording Wes the satisfaction of looking back .. no matter how much I want to.

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