So things for a little while are gonna be vaguely adult. Nothing explicit. Probably cleaner than a lot of pg13 movies but just wanted to let you guys know
My second night with Felicia went pretty awesome. Similar to the first only we went to a different place for dinner and clubbing. Before dinner we went on a carriage ride through one of the big parks which was pretty dang cool.
After dancing till two in the morning we went back to her hotel where we got tangled up in the sheets again. She had told me a bit more about herself, how she had been in an awful marriage with a controlling jerk, etc, etc. I let her take over that night and do whatever she wanted and afterwards she got emotional and told me how incredible our nights had been.
“I wish I didn’t have to leave in the morning,” she said, snuggling up next to me in the bed. Before I could say anything about how I hadn’t really meant this to be a long term thing she laughed and added, “I probably scared you! I didn’t mean like that. Bridgeport is amazing, and you’re good in bed. That’s all.”
“Next time you come to the city maybe we can do this again.”
“I’d like that.”
I slept in pretty late Sunday morning. My alarm went off at ten-thirty and I rolled out of bed. Felicia wasn’t anywhere around but that didn’t surprise me, she had brunch with her friends and then they’d be leaving. All her things were gone.
I stretched and yawned my way to the bathroom to get a quick shower before leaving. I didn’t want to traipse through the hotel all sweaty. When I searched for my clothes in the room I found something else. What the hell?
A pile of money on the bedside table with a note on top. Apollo, thanks for the amazing time. This is for you ❤
“What the hell?!” I took the money and began counting. Five hundred. She freaking paid me. She freaking paid me. I dropped the money and backed up. She paid me! That’s not what–I hadn’t–we never–“What the HELL?!”
Slowly, with trembling fingers, I retrieved the money and recounted. Five hundred. I reread the note and regretted not having her phone number so I could text her. Then the clock struck eleven and I jumped at the sound. I needed to get back to my apartment but–did I take the money? She meant it for me.
I felt incredibly awkward as I put the money in my wallet. I felt incredibly awkward the entire subway ride back to my apartment, and even more awkward when I crept inside. Sam greeted from me the couch. I had come by the apartment the previous day for a few hours but other than that I hadn’t really seen him since Friday at work.
I got changed into clean clothes and then flopped down next to Sam. “Have fun?” he asked.
“Yeah. I think so. Maybe.”
My face grew hot as I told him about what happened when I woke up. Sam’s eyes got really big and of course he bust up laughing. “Shut up!” I screeched as he practically fell off the couch. “Stop it! It’s not funny! It’s weird!”
He wiped a tear away. “Watcher, dude, I can’t believe this! This is great!”
I punched his arm. “Shut up! It’s not funny! I just got paid for going on a couple dates! Like a–like a–“
“Like an escort?” Sam cracked a grin. “What’s wrong with that? You had a good time, she had a good time, you got a… a present. I mean, you gave Tal presents when you dated.”
“Not anything worth five hundred!” I snapped, face growing hotter.
His shoulders began shaking hard. “So? If you were rich you’d probably give some expensive gifts and she obviously had the money. I guess cold hard cash is her idea of a gift for a guy instead of flowers or anything.” He covered his mouth with his hand now. “Seriously, what’s wrong with this? You got a couple of nights you enjoyed, yeah? Sex you enjoyed? And now you’re five hundred simoleons richer!”
“You are five hundred richer, this is going into the motorcycle jar.”
I jumped to my feet and ran to the jar, jamming the money down in it. Sam glowered and tried to get the money out and I kept swatting his hands away. “No! This is yours. I feel too weird keeping it. Please? I mean, you’ll be driving me to and from work anyway! Stop!” I hit his hand hard enough for him to withdraw. “It’s for the motorcycle, okay? No arguing.”
I went to get another shower and scrubbed hard. She paid me. Like an… escort, as Sam said. The hot water ran down my body as my mind whirled around. Five hundred. That would help out with rent and bills so much. I’d have a decent amount left after including my next paycheck and–Watcher, stop thinking that!
Why? Why should I stop thinking about that? I hadn’t done anything wrong at all. Just because she gave me money. Girls got gifts for dates all the time and people didn’t bat an eye. It’s when the gift was money that people started getting judgemental. Why? Why did they judge the people for, er, escorting for money and not the ones that paid? Not that Felicia deserved any judgement, of course. She wanted a fun time. She got a fun time. She gave me money for providing her a fun time.
What’s wrong with that?
By the time I got out of the shower I had talked myself out of feeling weird about it and I actually felt kinda happy that it had happened, because it meant Sam would get his motorcycle a lot sooner. Hell, if I went on another date like that–
Okay, accidentally having it happen and purposely going for it were two very different things. I couldn’t just… offer myself up… could I? Not that there was anything wrong with it, I just… well, I did have a lot of fun. Then again if I did, er, offer myself as a paid date to someone the chances of that someone having such a great personality as Felicia had were unlikely. And the chances of me being attracted to them sexually was also a big if. Still. Guys did this all the time. There were so many places in town that did this. And I had the feeling a lot of guys did it without being connected to a–a paid dating place.
I got on my phone and began doing a bit of research. On Cherylslist.plum there were quite a few offers. Many people just looking for random hookups but quite a few people with ads for themselves as a paid date. Most of them seemed a bit crude though.
I wonder… if I did this… if I’d get any response…
It took me a week to get enough nerve. I looked at a few ads and cobbled together my own. I included (after debating for a while) that I occasionally had psychic visions so I might, on our date, shout out some things. I looked at prices offered on Cherylslist as well as ones from professional places and gave myself a decent hourly pay. Not very high, not super low. Kinda on the higher end of the low section. If I got any response and they wanted to go out for a few hours then it would take two of those for me to be able to give Sam the rest of the money for the motorcycle.
I got seven responses. Four from women, three from male. Watcher! I looked through all of the offers. Most asked for sex, one woman just wanted a date with no sex but wanted to cuddle and talk and dance. The wined and dined experience. I decided to have her be my first time doing this for Friday night, and one of the other women for Saturday night.
I didn’t tell Sam, I just told him I had a date. Which was true! Just… I’d end up with some simoleons after.
Cassandra ‘Smith’ and I met up at a nice restaurant. She was in her 30s with burn scars on her face. I kissed the back of her hand as a greeting and spent the next couple of hours giving her the… well, the ‘boyfriend’ experience so to speak. I could tell she had issues finding romance with the scars on her face, she kept apologizing for them until I promised they didn’t bother me (which they didn’t. Maybe it had something to do with the fact I went out with someone who had scales, but scars and marks didn’t really bug me). We spent three hours together and I returned to the apartment with 200 in my pocket.
The next night I went out with Gwendolyn ‘Smith’. We went to dinner, some dancing, and then to a hotel for some sex. Four hours, 225 in my pocket.
I can’t believe I did all that, I thought on Sunday as I put the money into Sam’s jar. I didn’t regret it. I just felt disbelief.
An hour later Sam yelled at me for the random money he found. “How is it I suddenly have enough? I didn’t this morning!” He squinted at me. “How did you get the money?”
“Uh, my dad sent me a check.” I crossed my fingers behind my back that he’d believe me.
“STOP GIVING ME YOUR MONEY!” Sam fished out several bills and tried to shove them into my hands. “No! Take your money back, asshole!”
“NO! It’s a–a–birthday present!”
“MY BIRTHDAY WAS MONTHS AGO!”
“FINE IT’S AN EARLY CHRISTMAS PRESENT!” Sam’s nostrils flared. “For Watcher’s sake, you’ll be driving me too! If you feel that bad then pay me back later on, just take this money. It’s what I want to use this money for, it’s why I–” I quickly stopped myself. “It’s what I want.”
“It’s why you what?”
“It’s why I put the money in the damn jar! Just take the money. Buy the motorcycle. I really don’t want to fight about this.”
For a moment he seemed like he might continue to argue but then he slumped and put the money back in the jar. “You do too much for me. You and your family–“
“You are my family, dummy.”
He gave me a big hug then hurried me to get ready so we could go out and buy the motorcycle. The look on his face when he signed the papers and handed the money over made me feel so incredibly happy. We put our helmets on and went for a drive through Bridgeport, whooping and hollering when we went out of the city and along one of the fastest roads around. It was great.
Friday night I went out with Ashley Greene who offered to pay me more if I had a psychic vision on our date. I told her I didn’t have any control over them and she was disappointed when I didn’t. “Maybe next time,” she sighed as I got dressed at the end of our date.
I went home in a cab, watching the city lights go by. I hadn’t planned on doing this again but Grandpa was gonna be turning 78 in a few weeks and I wanted to get him a really nice present. And then Suzanne’s birthday. Then, well, the holidays, and then Piotr’s birthday, Angel’s birthday, Sam’s birthday, Reeny, Dad, Arty. I wanted to get them all nice gifts. So.
Saturday night I went out with a guy. No sex. I thought about it and maybe someday if I really wanted the money, but Jarrod Deens just wanted a date and chatting. Some hand-holding and cuddling. After dinner we went back to his place and watched a movie snuggled up on his couch. He was very relaxed and grateful afterwards and I felt happy that I could make him happy.
I mean, that’s part of what made this so awesome. I made people happy. I gave them pleasure. Whether through sex or just talking or whatever. They were having fun and getting something they wanted, and needed. I didn’t feel dirty doing this. And a couple more weekends of dates and I’d have enough saved up to buy everyone awesome gifts! And buy myself a few nice things. Like a suit. I wanted to buy a nice suit for my dates, that was number one. Also some better underwear.
My third weekend finally gave me a psychic vision, and during sex–so one of the physical contact visions where I saw her being fired. Because I was on top she noticed right away and I had warned her (I warned all my clients) so she pushed me away. I came to, shaking my head and apologizing.
“Your eyes are freaky!” she gasped.
“Yeah–that’s part of the psychic thing.” I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“I didn’t know it was like this…I–okay I don’t think I can do this, this is too freaky. Your eyes are like some sort of demon movie. No, don’t touch me! Get out! Just go!”
I scrambled away from her, glad I hadn’t had a sleeping vision and screamed about murder in her face. I jumped into my clothes and hesitated. “Ma’am, I do need at least an hour of the payment.” Due to her response to my vision I decided not to inform her of what I had seen.
Her face drew up like a prune and she grabbed some cash from her purse, throwing it. “Just get out! Freak!”
It was only half of our agreed hourly payment but I didn’t want to argue. I just returned to my apartment as fast as I could. Sam was still up, on the phone with someone as he watched a TVs how. He said something about talking later and hung up. “Date not go well?” he asked as I trudged to the fridge to get a beer.
“No. I had a vision while we were–uh–in bed and she totally flipped out.”
“But she went out with you knowing the risk?”
I popped the cap off and went over to sit down. “Yes.” I took a swig and stared at the TV screen. “She screamed at me, said my eyes looked demonic.” My fingers tightened around the bottle. “Who were you talking to?”
“Oh! Erm, no one.” He blushed, even his ears turning red. “Crap. That didn’t fly, did it.”
“Grim Reaper, no!” I shrieked, doubling over with laughter, nearly dropping the bottle. “That was one of the worst lies ever! Who?”
He coughed. “It’s not what you think. I was talking with Reeny. She likes this show too, so we thought we’d watch ‘together’.”
“So why were you blushing?”
Sam gave me a look. “You come in at eleven-thirty and I tell you I’m on the phone with your sister? I panicked. Yes, that’s all,” he said when I pressed him. “Some guys are really touchy about their sisters.”
“Nah, it’s fine. I’m gonna get cleaned up.”
As I left the room Sam stopped me. “Who were you going out with again?”
“Just someone I met at the club last week.”
“Last week. When you were going out with someone else?”
Lie to him. Tell the truth. Those thoughts and more raced through my head. Then I returned to the couch and told him the truth. He had practically been encouraging me to do it anyway so I didn’t think he’d be all judgey about it, and sure enough when I finished explaining he took a few minutes to process everything then promised he didn’t care, he just felt better now he knew the truth.
Because my Friday night date fell short I went on another on Sunday. Afternoon delights, and all that. In the evening I treated Sam out to a fancy dinner and a movie we both wanted to see, then we went for a ride outside the city on his motorcycle. Man I wished I could drive. I’d definitely save up for one of those! And to combat the possibility of me falling asleep on the back of the bike and falling off, we had made a sort of harness hooking us together. I didn’t flail during my visions so we figured (hoped) it’d be fine.
In September I went out every Friday and Saturday night, and a couple times on Sunday afternoon. Every client seemed really happy and I decided to up my fee. Not by much, just ten simoleons per hour, and I still got as many offers. Even more, really. One of them was Ashley Greene still wanting that psychic vision. She asked me about them all through our date and I provided her with loose details.
Our sex lasted for a long time, occasionally taking a breather. She really wanted me to have a vision. And spent quite a bit of money for that hope. She was sad in the morning but told me she’d try again next time. Hey, no problem to me. I had quite a bit more cash. I bought some clothes and new shoes, and a TV show DVD set I’d been wanting for a while.
Another week went by and I began to wonder if I could just keep doing this back in Storybrook. We were bumped right up against Storybrook City (technically a different ‘town’ but everyone used the name Storybrook whether they were from the city or the small town), and SimMeapolis so I could potentially have plenty of, uh, clients. And if I had a higher rate I would be making more than any entry level job. Heck, if I quit working at Wedding Dreams and went out every night of the week I would make more however I didn’t want to quit LWD until Sam and I were ready to move back. We figured probably by winter, maybe early spring.
A professional escort, I thought while taking a shower after work (LWD work, not a date) one day. Watcher. I never in a million years would have expected to do something like that. Of course I never really pictured myself doing anything. I didn’t have much interest in most the careers thrown out there. As an escort I’d make good money providing I remained as lucky back home as I was here. I’d be able to afford nice clothes, nice shoes, a nice house. Maybe, erm, get my name out there more professionally than Cherylslist. I didn’t want to align myself with an escort service.
Professional escort. It seemed to be a good idea, for the time being. If things fell through I could get a different job. And it wasn’t as if I wanted to really find a woman to settle down with. I still missed Romance, even after all this time I missed her and my heart ached to be with her. She’s been married for a couple months now. Maybe I could become a professional assassin and go after her parents and husband. I had to chuckle at that thought as nice as it was.
I’ll do it. I’ll keep this weekend thing until we go to Storybrook and then I’ll go full time as an escort. A professional dater. I just won’t tell anyone in my family. Ever.