Quinn
Gina wasn’t an easygoing client. She wanted things her way or no way. And as I’ve been reminded oh-so many times, the customer is always right. But not this time.
She made an appointment fortnightly and had been seeing me for over three years now. I liked Gina, but she was tenacious. Tonight was no exception. Gina’s long black hair flowed down her bare back as she straddled me. “C’mon, Quinn. Let me tie you up.” Her dark brown eyes sparkled with lust.
I shook my head, holding onto her hips. “You know the rules, Gigi.”
She protested, “We’ve known each other for so long. You’d think by now you’d trust m—” Her argument died on her parted lips as I ground myself into her, making her moan and fall limp on top of me.
I knew better than to let a client tie me up. The past experiences of other escorts had been relayed over time and we learned from their mistakes. The whole ‘let me tie you up’ thing was new for Gina though. Did it surprise me? No. Why did that not surprise me? Because three appointments ago, Gina asked me to fuck her bare. Obviously, I refused, and Gina was embarrassed. She had honestly thought I would allow it.
I didn’t play with my life like that, or anyone else’s. She swore she was clean and on birth control. She knew I was clean, because DFT had a monthly screening process. Even if I were tempted, I wouldn’t have done it. Birth control wasn’t a definite, and I did not want a child with Gina. It was that simple.
She dug her nails into my shoulders as she righted herself, then she pouted, “But I want to. So bad.”
I hated that pout. Not because it made me feel bad, but because it was a manipulation tactic in all its tasteless glory. It spiked my anger. Letting go of her waist, I reached up and gripped her wrists tight, removing her hands from my shoulders. “Gina, if you’ve had enough of me, I suggest you move on to someone else. There are a few guys I know you’ll like. Maybe Marcus or Cameron.”
She straightened and blinked down at me, and I knew I had shocked her. Whenever she played these games, I had always done my best to calm her and make sure she would book with me again. Something had changed in me. I didn’t want to deal with this anymore.
Gina’s voided face held my stare. She whispered a fragile sounding, “I don’t want anyone else, Quinn.”
Taking her hands in mine, I held them before bringing them to my mouth, kissing her knuckles. “Then please stop requesting things I can’t provide. It makes me feel inadequate. Like I’m unable to please you.”
This was a stinking lie. I felt adequate in every way, and I knew I could please Gina with both arms tied behind my back. I just needed to diffuse the situation.
Gina smiled, small and shy-like, then touched my cheek. “You always please me, Quinn. I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”
Reaching to the nightstand, I took a foil packet and ripped it open with my teeth then grinned. “Shall we kiss and make up?”
Gina scooted back, took the condom from my hand, and rolled it on. Her black lace teddy felt great on the skin of my thighs. I grasped her hips and pulled her forward, right where I needed her to be. The head of my cock prodded her wet entrance. I teased her, grinding against her, rather than entering her.
Cheeks flushed, Gina let out a soft mewl. She was close to coming. I’d seen that dreamy expression many times before.
The strap of her shoulder fell down her arm, revealing her breast. The dark bud was begging to be sucked. In one quick movement, I lifted Gina then impaled her. As she moaned, I groaned. She had already begun contracting around me; she felt so damn tight.
Leaning down, I took her nipple into my mouth and suckled. She lifted her head and whimpered. With every nip and suck, she grew tighter and tighter till finally she came, gripping my shoulders, body trembling.
I’d never done what I was about to do, and wasn’t sure why I felt the need to. With Gina slumped against me, I wrapped my arms around her, held her tightly, and then groaned, pumping my cock into her slick pussy. I stilled, panting before gently placing Gina on the bed and making my way to the bathroom.
My reflection looked like me, but I didn’t feel like me.
I shook my head, removed the condom, and looked at it a moment before placing it in the trash. I threw water on my face and ran my hands through my hair in an attempt to tame it. Placing my hands on the vanity, I stared into the mirror.
I had just faked my orgasm.
I was home earlier than intended and couldn’t wait to get into bed. The silence in my apartment was welcoming. I set my things down on the counter then walked into the bathroom to shower. Washing and drying in only minutes, I headed to the counter, took my phone out, and turned it back on.
Immediately, a text came through.
Maya: Why do I feel as though I’m completely vulnerable to the bedroom monsters with one foot out of the covers? Now, throw a sheet over said foot, and voila...I’m invincible!
Smiling, I walked to my bedroom, and I climbed up onto my bed. The message had been sent an hour ago. Maya was likely asleep. I didn’t have to text her back, but I wanted to.
Me: For the same reason I feel like I’m going to be sucked down the drain in my bathtub. God forbid my bare toe touches the plughole. However, place a rubber ducky on top of said plughole, and voila…I’m saved!
I fell asleep and dreamed of saving Maya from her make-believe bedroom monsters.
The following morning, I woke to a single text.
Maya: You have a rubber ducky??
Mia
The thought of Quinn in a bathtub had made me hot. I was jealous of a rubber ducky. Clearly, I was losing my mind.
I had awoken at the crack of dawn, and normally, this would’ve put me in a bad mood, but I felt as though it was a sign. I was getting slack with my exercise routine. This was the perfect opportunity to make up for it. I dressed quickly in running tights and a loose tank. I slipped my shoes on, grabbed my MP3 player and phone, and then I was off.
Although I hadn’t ever lived in the suburb I was currently lived in, I knew my city well. I grew up here. And with my mom being a working single mother, I learned to get around on public transport.
I boarded a bus just off my block, paid the five dollars for a day pass, and went on my way. When I arrived at my destination, I walked off the bus, looked out into the distance, and smiled.
The beach.
I hadn’t been to the beach in over five years. It was my favorite place to go to relax, and it was only now that I felt welcomed. When you were a larger woman, the beach was not a very forgiving place. You felt the eyes of strangers aimed at you. You didn’t feel as if you belonged. Of course, this was likely all part of your imagination, but it still didn’t feel good.
The truth was I didn’t hate my body anymore. Sure, I wasn’t exactly thin, and I still had curves, but I was comfortable in my body.
Walking down the trail, I found myself on the sand and mentally prepped myself for a hard workout. I ran on the sand till my heart raced then I stopped, jogging in place for a minute. I did this again and again, working at intervals till my legs felt like jelly and I wanted to puke. There was no in-between with a workout like this. It was go hard or go home. And so I went hard.
As I near stumbled back up the trail, I drank from a water fountain then sat at a bench, still panting. I sat until my heart rate decreased and thought of Quinn. And as though he heard my thoughts, my phone pinged.
Quinn: Of course I have a rubber ducky. Don’t tell me you don’t. That could be a deal breaker for me.
I lifted my face and huffed a laugh to the sky.
Me: I don’t have a rubber ducky. I know. I’m ashamed. Does an anti-slip mat with duckies on it count?
His reply was immediate and I almost heard him scoff.
Quinn: No, it doesn’t count! That’s okay. I’ll just have to get you one.
I smiled hard like the fool I was.
Me: You don’t have to do that, Quinn.
I sat back on the bench and closed my eyes, trying in vain to push aside the warm feeling swirling inside my chest, partially choking me. My phone chimed.
Quinn: Yes, I do. x
Shit. It was nine days till Sunday. I was still counting down.
I had an appointment with a hooker, and I couldn’t wait.
I made it home from the beach in time to catch Bill and Terry walking out of their apartment. As soon as they spotted me, they both beamed.
Terry got to me first, kissing my cheek. “Mia honey, we were just talking about you! We wanted to invite you over tonight for dinner, but neither of us have your number.”
Bill took my hand and kissed my knuckles. “And before you decline, Terry’s cooking his famous drunken duck a l’orange. And it’s amazing.”
Terry added in a singsong voice, “With crème brûlée for dessert.”
Oh, damn. I freaking loved crème brûlée. I was not about to say no to that menu. I’d be crazy to! I smiled. “Anything you want me to bring?”
Terry looked downright horrified at the idea and slapped my arm to let me know. “No! You’re our guest, Mia.”
“I’ll be there. What time?”
Terry had already dragged Bill down the hall. He called out, “Eight p.m., sharp,” with a backwards wave. Bill smiled and shrugged. I supposed he was used to this.
I shook my head at the hurricane that was Terry, then unlocked my apartment, dropped my things on my bed, and showered. I sang my little heart out in that shower with my own special Spice Girls mash-up, still partly mad at Ginger for leaving the group. When I sang so hard that I was certain I should’ve been the sixth member of the band, I turned off the water and dried myself lazily, dropping my towel to the floor.
My bedroom window was open, so I made a nudie run to the blinds and closed them before lying naked on my bed in my own form of meditation. There was something empowering about being stripped bare. In all my flawed glory, I was comfortable. And that made me happy. Happy was all I ever wanted to be, and for the first time ever, I really was.
The blue light on my cell was blinking. I lifted it with a frown to find three new messages. I read them wide-eyed and confused.
Quinn: Pink, blue, or yellow?
Quinn: …for the rubber duck, that is.
Quinn: Never mind, I got ‘em all. I don’t like the idea of you just having one. They need company.
Laughter burst out of me, shaking my entire body. My jiggly bits jiggled, and that didn’t bother me a bit.
Me: Good call. I’ve heard stories of depressed rubber ducks drowning themselves in their manic state. If only those ducks had a duck homie to shoot the breeze with. Tragic.
Before I even managed to put my phone down, it chimed in my hand.
Quinn: Oh, you make fun now, but I bet my duck you’ll love ‘em.
My fingers typed the exact thing I was thinking.
Me: Quack.
I hadn’t expecting the response I got.
Quinn: So…can I call you?
I sat up with a jolt. I blinked down at the message then swallowed hard. No. I wasn’t ready for this. My fingers typed slowly, carefully. I clicked send and closed my eyes.
Me: …okay.
The phone started to ring almost instantly, and I panicked. I stared down at it as it rang, and let it ring till it rang out.
Shit.
Quinn: Okay, I get it. You said I could call. You didn’t say you’d answer. Clever little kitten.
My heart was racing, my skin had flushed, and I had to get over this. I was going to lose my virginity to this man, and I couldn’t even
talk
to him? Lord, I was pathetic.
Me: If you call again, I’ll answer. Scout’s honor.
My phone rang once more; this time I answered right away. My voice sounded soft. Too soft. “Hello?”
I heard a smile through that deep, manly voice. “Maya?”
My eyes closed of their own accord and I forced my voice louder. “Hi, Quinn.”
He chuckled low and rough, and it felt like a caress all over my body. “Hi, yourself. Why didn’t you answer your phone? You won’t let me see you before our appointment, so the least you could do is talk to me.”
A blush rose in my cheeks. He wasn’t scalding me. I knew he was only teasing, but I still felt like a fifteen-year-old girl talking to the high school quarterback. I slapped my forehead and groaned. “Ugh, I know. I’m sorry. I get weird around men. I panicked.”
The amused lilt in his voice disappeared and was replaced with a tinge of concern. “Tell me about that. Did you have a bad experience with a man? Did someone hurt you?”
His voice was so gentle and full of care that I found myself smiling softly. “No, nothing like that. It’s sort of something that’s always happened with me. Men would try to talk to me, and mid-conversation, I’d walk away, because I couldn’t respond. It’s sort of like having a major brain-fart.”
He laughed then, and I smiled hard. He uttered, “I can understand that. I’ve had a brain-fart a time or two before.” He paused a moment then asked cautiously, “How do you feel talking to me?”
It was my turn to pause. I lifted my head in thought before responding through a sigh, “This is probably going to sound weird, and I apologize in advance for that, but I kind of feel like I’m talking to a friend.”
His reply was sincere. “We are friends. At least, I’d like to be friends. You got room for one more?”
Smiling so hard my cheeks felt like they were on the verge of splitting, I answered gently, “Always got room for another friend.”
His voice had softened. “Me too, Maya. Me too.” Then his voice turned husky. “Can you do something for me, Maya?”
I blinked at the sudden change of character, and so I stuttered, “Uh, sh-sh-sure.”
Amusement lined his voice. “Quack for me, baby.”