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I’d never worked a Saturday afternoon before, but I figured it was worth a shot.  I had my cell phone with me, so I could roam around town, take care of some errands, hang out, and if I got lucky, I’d just hop in a cab and zip over to a client.

“Hey, it’s Sydney.  Is this Jackie?”

“No, honey, it’s Betty.”

At least it was a girl I’d met before.  The chances of getting booked were always higher when the phone girl knew you.

“Hey, Betty. It’s Sydney.  I met you…I’ve got the red hair.”

“Oh, yeah, honey, of course!  Are you working?  Please say you’re working.  I need white girls bad.”

I laughed.  “Yes, Betty, I’m on.”

Apparently, Betty didn’t need white girls as desperately as she thought she did, because it took three hours before I got a call—Kevin Noer, at the Belvedere Hotel, on West 48th between 8th and 9th.  My first hotel, and, I was guessing, my first out-of-towner, and therefore perhaps my first non-regular.  I hoped it would go okay.

I knocked on the door.  I was hoping that by this session I’d be so used to the whole thing I’d barely notice what was going on until it was over.

The door opened.  I blinked.  Not exactly what I’d expected.  Kevin stood there, naked except for a small white towel wrapped around his waist.  He had dirty blonde hair and watery blue eyes.  He looked vaguely Scandinavian.  There was a large anchor tattoo his shoulder and a smaller one on his ankle.

I smiled enchantingly as if he was exactly what I’d hoped for.  “Hi, I’m Sydney.  Are you Kevin?”

He nodded and motioned for me to come in.  Okay, I thought, charming conversation would clearly not be part of this evening.

A large pizza box tossed in the corner only served to heighten my suspicions.  I sighed inwardly.  Only an hour, I thought.  Only an hour.

“Are you here on vacation?”  I asked.

He nodded and mumbled something.

“Excuse me?”

“Am I paying for one ejaculation or for one hour?”

Well, that was cutting right to the chase.  “You pay for the whole hour.  You can have as many ejaculations as you want.”  I tried to sound optimistic.

He nodded.

Great.  This was going to be fun.  “I just need to call the agency to let them know I’m here.”  It was getting harder to be polite.

He nodded again and lay down on the bed.  I felt dirty.

“Hey, Betty, it’s Sydney.  I’m here.”

“Didja get the money?”

“Not yet.”  I put the phone down.  “I’m sorry, I need to get the money.”

He mumbled something.

“Excuse me?”


“No, $400.”

“They told me $350.”

I lifted the phone back up to my ear.  “Betty, he says you told him only $350.”

“What!?  Let me talk to him.”

I handed the phone to Kevin.  He argued with Betty for a couple minutes.  Apparently, he wanted to pay $350 for the hour.  For $400 he wanted the whole night.  Forget about that, I thought, and that’s basically what I could tell Betty was telling him.

Kevin handed the phone back to me.

“I’m sorry, honey,” Betty said.  “I told him $400.  Ron heard me tell him $400.  I don’t know what his problem is.”

“Do you want me to stay?” I asked. I really didn’t want to, especially not for less money.  Kevin was no stud.

“No.  We’ll get you something better.  I’m sorry, sugar.”

[to be continued…]