Chapter 25: Story from the Past

Claire sat cross-legged in the middle of our large bed in our Nashville home. She was naked, but then so were the rest of us: Crystal, Ellen, Nadia, Dan, and Terry. We were experiencing our afterglows from a hyper-active love making session that involved all of us. Dan and I were in the best physical shape, so we’d recovered ahead of the others, a positive statement to our exercise and meditation regimes.

Dan asked, “Claire, I know your sensitive about what you told us about your earlier ... err, career. May we ask you questions or will that make you sad again? I don’t want to do that.”

Claire smiled warmly at Dan, leaned in and tenderly kissed his cheek, and then looked at all of us in turn, “Oh, with all of you, I don’t mind talking about it; in fact, it makes me feel better about those times. I have to say, after all your support, I feel so much better. Admitting my past to the people I love has been a catharsis for me; I didn’t realize how much stress I carried having that bottled up inside me.”

Dan pushed ahead as was his style to get to the nub of any situation; “Claire, what was it like? I mean what kind of stuff did you do? What did you think about during those years you told us about? I really naïve about that side of life, plus I ... I admit to having a prurient interest in it.”

Claire almost laughed at his question and the temerity of it; while she’d become more relaxed about her past in the adult entertainment industry and life as an escort, none of us had pushed her for any details. We figured when she was ready, if at all, she’d tell us. She spoke not just to Dan, but all of us, “Where do I start? I mean I met so many people that you still see in porn flicks today; some were my friends – Jenny Lee, Ashlynn Brooke, Avy Scott, and Jenna Haze to name a few. None of us had many friends outside the industry. When I left, I knew I was leaving them behind. As for what I thought about it, when I started I had a ball. I loved the sex – my hormones were pumping; I couldn’t get enough on or off camera. Later, it got old – at least the falseness of faked orgasms and acting as though I couldn’t wait for some dumb asshole to stick his dick in me.”

We all looked at her in silence. She wondered for a second why we were silent, looking at each of us in turn.

Claire suddenly reacted with a slight laugh, “Oh, NO. I do NOT fake orgasms with any of you. I gave that up when I left the trade. What you see is what you get.” She spread her legs and ran two fingers up her slit to entice us. She seductively licked her own juices and the leftover cum off her fingers; her other hand simultaneously moved to her wetness.

Crystal chortled at her teasing and said, “Would you tell us a story ... the sexier the better.” She winked at Claire, and for emphasis ran her hand up Claire’s leg all the way to her crotch to join the fingers that were already there.

Claire laughed and playfully slapped at Crystal’s hand, “Of course. I know the kind of people you are, me included; and the kind of stories you want to hear. Let me think for a minute.” She hitched herself up the bed so she could lean against the headboard between Nadia and Ellen. I watched her generous bosoms shimmy in an erotic way as she adjusted position. I could feel a surge in my cock. Both Ellen and Nadia put a hand on one of Claire’s thighs, just below her pussy. Claire ignored the blatant touches.

Claire got a big smile and started; “Once upon a time ... there was this ... very rich businessman. He’d come to LA quite often because he was investing several hundred million dollars in the film industry – the legitimate one, not the adult one; although I found out later he’d seen me in some of my first films. Let’s call him ... Joe Mason.”

Claire’s choice of name left little to the imagination: Joe Mason was a poorly disguised moniker for Joseph Mansard, probably the fourth richest man in the country and a mogul of the communications and entertainment industry. There probably wasn’t a person in the country who wouldn’t recognize his face or who didn’t know about his flamboyant and volatile personality. When I’d last seen him, I think it was on the TV news as he appeared before some Congressional committee blasting the heavy-handedness of the Federal Communications Commission. The attack seemed unwarranted.

Claire paused and added in her own words, “Joe was a high roller, but a very sophisticated and educated one – and a captain of industry. If I had to guess, I’d say his net worth exceeded ten or twenty billion dollars, but that may be low. So one day, Andre, my manager and the guy that ran the escort service I worked for, told me to stay home and that he was sending someone over to meet me about a ‘date.’ The person turned out to be Joe Mason’s vice-president of special projects. She wanted to meet with me for what had been communicated as a long lunch – a young woman about my age. I later learned she was Joe’s daughter. Before we got into setting up my ‘date’ with him, she wanted to meet me, judge my acceptability to be with Mason, and see my wardrobe. We specifically talked about how I would dress and behave with her father. I’d already been primed by Andre, but the overriding instruction was to do whatever Joe wanted, but then that sounded like Andre’s instructions for all my ‘dates.’”

“The daughter, Elizabeth, deemed my wardrobe unfit for Joe, and I mean almost nothing survived her scrutiny. I was already making good money, and thought I had some nice stuff but not as far as she was concerned. She dragged me out the door and into a white stretch limousine, drove us down to Rodeo Drive, and four hours later we came back with a limo full of boxes and clothes. I’m sure she spent close to $20,000 on me. I kept wondering if I were going to have to pay for this, but Elizabeth read my mind and assured me this was ‘on the house,’ and would make me presentable to her father. The way she put it, ‘If Joe is happy, then everyone around him is happy. Your dressing in great fashion will make Joe happy.”

Claire went on, “We went back to the apartment I shared with another adult film actress named Suzie Reynolds. Beth, as Elizabeth told me to call her, instructed me on what to wear when, how to come prepared for a ‘date’ with Joe, what his expectations would be – at least at the start, and what makeup to use – we’d bought almost a thousand dollars of that too.”

“Suzie and Beth watched as I dressed for my dinner with Joe that evening. Beth had me start with a shower, and then she rubbed me down with one of the lightly scented lotions we’d bought, and she rubbed me down ‘all’ over, even into my nether region. I could tell she enjoyed it, and for that matter, so did I. I gave her looks that said ‘Go ahead,’ and she gave me looks that said ‘I want you.’ We had chemistry beyond my being a hired escort.”

“She chose a short skirt for me because she liked my legs, and she told me that Joe would like them, too. She picked a pair of red spike heels we’d bought to accent the muscles and tone of my calves as well. For a top, she chose a Vera Wang wrap-around silk blouse that was nearly transparent and that displayed my cleavage. I thought I’d be too revealing to take into a public place – I mean you could see my breasts through the gauzy material of the blouse, but Beth fixed that with a dark jacket that showed the cleavage but not my tits – unless you got really close.”

We were all hanging on every word of Claire’s story. She went on, “Beth explained that she would be going with us to dinner, and that she’d be back about eight o’clock when her father returned to pick me up. She gave me the names of the restaurant, and a late-evening club she expected her father to take us too. She also said that he might send her away or allow her to stay around the entire evening – ‘It’ll be whatever he wants, wherever he wants, whenever he wants, with whomever he wants; so just go with the flow.’”

“Suzie had heard all the instructions, but had barely said a word the entire time Beth was in our small apartment. After Beth left Suzie said in her deep Bronx accent, ‘Wow, y’are going out with one important dude. If he brings a friend, come and get me.’ Suzie decided I needed a couple of pieces of jewelry to accent my new high-end clothes. She and I went through every piece of jewelry we had, picking some tasteful earrings, a ring, and a broach.”

“Exactly at eight o’clock, a uniformed chauffeur knocked on the door. He politely held my arm and escorted me out to the long stretch white limo that could have easily held a dozen people – you know, the kind people at weddings use, only this was Joe’s private car. Beth and Joe were inside; she made the introductions as though I was an old friend. She also gave me a nod and wink regarding my dress and makeup; she even gestured on herself where I had the broach pinned and smiled to show her approval at the jewelry.”

“I made pleasant conversation, complimenting Joe on his suit – a grey pin stripe that must have cost five grand, his punctuality, and my appreciation for the ‘date.’ We’d been instructed by Andre to always refer to our assignations as ‘dates,’ and to never make our clients feel like a john. Andre took care of the money, and he was decent about it and far better than other ‘services.’ He gave us cash after he’d take twenty-five percent out for ‘marketing’ expenses, as he called them.” We all laughed. “The low-end pimps usually keeps all the money, and then only doles out a small amount at a time to their hoes.”

Claire continued, “Joe talked about the restaurant, and carried on a wonderful first ‘date’ conversation, asking what I liked in the way of cuisine, theater, books, concerts – both classical and rock, and things like what my hobbies were. Fortunately, some of my tastes heavily overlapped with his, and so we quickly found many common areas to talk about. I returned the favor, learning about the man behind the public image that existed about him. Of course, Beth had already told me he’d seen some of my films, but somehow that never came up. We bantered back and forth during the limo ride, and then over drinks and dinner. By the way, the restaurant was the kind of place where the ladies’ menus didn’t have prices on them, and I knew that meant really, really expensive.”

“We had some fabulous wine, Beth turned out to be as engaging as Joe turned out to be once she wasn’t giving instructions to me or critiquing my wardrobe, body, or makeup. Later, I’d found out that I was also partly her ‘date’ as well – I’ll explain in a minute. After dinner, we went to high-end club with a great jazz quartet. Joe danced with me, and we both did well together. I felt that I was making him happy.”

“Around two in the morning, Joe announced we had to go and that he had an early meeting the next day. I figured we’d go back to his home or condo, but instead, he drove me home, thanked me for a lovely evening, and had the chauffeur escort me to the door. I figured I was a big failure, but just before I started to walk with the chauffeur to my door, Beth got out of the limo. She came up to me and gave me a kiss that was so hot, it would have melted steel. She whispered to me, ‘You did well – very well; perfect! Joe really likes you. We’ll be back in touch soon.”

“With that, they disappeared into the night. I didn’t hear from them for two weeks, and then one day I got a call on my cell from Beth. I wondered how she’d gotten my cell number; I don’t share it with many. Beth said, ‘Claire, Joe, and I will be back in town on Saturday and he’d like to see you again – and so would I. We’ve been in Europe for two weeks buying a couple of companies. Wear the pale blue outfit we bought. Pick you up at eight o’clock again.’ There was no ‘Can you make it?’ discussion, just we’ll be there, and of course, you’ll be ready.”