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The next call came twenty minutes later.

“Told you I’d get you something good!” she exclaimed.  “This one’s for $500 cash.  The Helmsley Hotel, on West 58th, between 6th and 7th.  Van Smith.”

Five hundred dollars cash.  That was exciting.  Maybe the hotel would be nicer this time?  Maybe Van would be cute?

The hotel was, but he wasn’t. He was nice, though—quite the gentleman, and he could make conversation.  I found out, within the first few minutes, that he was from South Carolina, manager of a clothing store, and a Billy Joel fan.  In fact, he was such a Billy Joel fan that he’d flown up from South Carolina to see Billy Joel play at Madison Square Garden.  Because it was the holiday season, the hotels were booking for four nights, minimum, so Van had a couple nights to kill, and he didn’t know anyone in town.  Naturally, therefore, he had decided to spend one of his available hours with me.

Van was sweet and stocky.  He must have been about 5’5”, with a blonde crewcut, a square face, and a Southern drawl.  I had a feeling he wasn’t usually a smooth operator, but I could tell that I was making him especially nervous.  I wondered if this was the first time he’d used an escort.

When I walked in, he had been watching the end of a football game.  He had a small bet riding on it, so between that and the nervousness I generated, he could barely keep his eyes off the television screen.  In an attempt to loosen both of us up, I asked him dumb questions about the game until it was over.  I hoped to resort to the usual tactic of killing as much time with conversation, thus leaving as little time as possible for actual fucking.  Unfortunately, the game ended after a few minutes, and it was clear I’d have to get down to business.

He started eyeing me and making awkward physical gestures.  Time to earn my keep.

“I’m just going to use your bathroom, okay?”

He nodded.  I used the bathroom while inspecting the tremendous array of hygiene products he had carefully arranged on the counters.  He had about three times the amount I had in my bathroom at home.

I came out and went over to the bed.  I sat down.  There really wasn’t any way to make this feel natural, and his awkwardness was rubbing off on me.

“I’m just going to use the bathroom, too, before we get started.”  The poor man was so nervous.  I smiled comfortingly.  At least he was more nervous than I was.

I looked around the room while he was in the bathroom.  Standard hotel fare.  Two twin beds.  I sat on one, Van on the other.  This was going to be difficult.  I figured I would have to resort to conversation, so I asked him about his store.  About South Carolina.  About the Billy Joel concert.  About his trip to New York.  About Madison Square Garden.  I was running out of options.

I decided to move to his bed.  I sat down next to him.  We kissed.  Finally, getting down to business.  As tempting as conversation was for killing time, I knew there was no way I could leave without taking care of the reason I was there, so I might as well confront the matter head on and get it over with.

We kissed for a few minutes.  He awkwardly put his arm around me.  I put my hand on his thigh.  Van and I had reached familiar territory.  I knew where we were headed. Our clothes came off.

“Don’t mind this,” he said, covering his stomach with his hand.

“Don’t worry about it.”  His stomach was certainly not a problem.  I wasn’t marrying the guy, and I couldn’t exactly refuse to fuck him because he was stocky.  I even found his bashfulness endearing.

“I hope you have a condom.  I forgot to get one.”  He seemed really flustered.

I tried to sound as calm as possible.  I felt like a doctor about to give someone a shot—even tone, reassuring hand gestures.

“No problem,” I replied, patting his knee.  I got one from my bag and handed it to him.  (Pretty silly considering my various sexual experiences, but I still didn’t like putting condoms on.)  Van certainly wasn’t going to refuse to put it on, although he did seem a little startled that I wasn’t putting it on for him.  He’d probably seen too many porn movies and expected me to apply it with my teeth.  He put it on gingerly, carefully putting the plastic wrapper on the table next to the bed, and then turned to me, expectantly.  Ah hah.  Time for action.

We had sex from the front and from behind and between my tits, but Van didn’t seem to be anywhere close to coming.  I didn’t really mind.  He wasn’t as aggressive as William, and my vagina was getting used to all this activity, so I just kind of zoned out until I realized that Van had stopped pumping away.  Then he pulled out.  Well, to be accurate, he wasn’t actually in at that point.  He’d gone completely limp.

“I’m sorry.”  He seemed genuinely apologetic, as if he was letting me down.

“Don’t worry about it.  It’s totally fine.”  I hated when this happened, when I actually had to work and felt out of my league.  Would I have to go down on him?  Would I have to give him a handjob?

“What would you like me to do?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”  He blushed.  “What would you like?”

“Whatever turns you on.”

“I can’t believe I have a gorgeous, sexy woman next to me who will do what I want, and I can’t do it.”  He seemed stricken.

I wondered if he’d cry.  “Don’t worry about it.  Please.  What would you like me to do?  Would you like me to go down on you?”

He grinned.  “Sure.”

I went down on him for a while.  He seemed to enjoy it but still didn’t get hard.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sounding really upset about the idea of letting me down.

“It’s totally okay.”  I tried to sound like the soothing doctor again.  “Is there something else you’d like me to do?”

“I don’t know.”

I hoped he didn’t think I was putting him on the spot.  “We could just lie and talk, you know?”

“Really?  You want to?”  You could have knocked big, stocky Van over with a feather.

“Sure.”

So we did.  I lay next to him, and we talked.  He told me more about South Carolina and his job and Billy Joel.  He told me how beautiful I was, how perfect my breasts and how sexy my legs.  He asked me what I looked for in a man, and how much importance I placed on physical appearance.  He told me about the last girl he’d dated and how they had met.

“She worked in a coffee shop.  I used to go and get coffee from her.  I never realized that she liked me.  She’d give me stuff for free all the time, but I was clueless.”  He laughed.  “And then one time I went in with a friend of mine, and she was talking about how much she liked to go out for drive.  I said we should go out for a drive sometime.  I was just being polite.  But she said yeah, that she’d love to.  Then my friend said that she could go for a drive with him, too.  And she just kind of said, yeah, maybe, but with no interest whatsoever, you know?”

I nodded, amused.

“So then my friend and I left and he said, ‘she totally wants you, man,’ and I was, like, what are you talking about?  I was literally clueless.  And he had to point out to me how differently she’d responded to his offer for a drive.  So I took her out for a drive and that was that.  We dated for a while.  But we’re not together now.”

Van paused.  He ran his fingers over my shoulder and down my arm.  “You’re gorgeous.  Do you work out?”

“Yeah,” I said, nodding.

“I’ve been working out, too.  It’s a new thing for me, but I’ve definitely been losing weight.  It’s made my stomach a lot firmer.  And I play a lot of basketball.  Do you use a treadmill or a bike?”

“I use a bike.  Which do you use?”  This conversation was cracking me up, but it was an easy way to pass the time.

“I’ll use the bike sometimes.  I can’t really use a treadmill.”

“Why not?”

He blushed.  “This is kind of embarrassing.”

“What?  Tell me!”  I rolled over to look at him.  He was definitely blushing.

“My thighs chafe.  I have to put Vaseline on them if I’m going to be walking a lot.”

That was something I’d never heard before.  I must have looked surprised.  No wonder he was embarrassed.  I didn’t know what to say to make him feel better, but luckily it was time for me to start getting dressed again, so that provided a convenient change of subject.

I got my things together, bade a pleasant goodbye to Van, and headed back to the agency to drop off my money.  Even though I’d only worked one shift, I was ready to call it a night.

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