Chapter 11: Risky Business

I was leaning against the doorway to the living room when Dax walked in from work. I tried to look like a tough and well-used ‘dime’ hooker. I eyed him up and down. “Hey, Babe. Looking for a little excitement?”

Dax caught onto the game right away. He grinned, “Always. What’re you offering?”

“Oh, for the right sum, I can be very entertaining. I’m high-end, if you know what I mean?”

“I believe that I do,” he said. He pulled his wallet out of his pocked and pulled a fifty-dollar bill from inside.

I looked dismissively at the money. I emphasized, “I said ‘high end’. What you want is the drunk overweight slut at the bar down the street.” I gestured outside.

Dax put another two-hundred dollars in my hand. I smiled derisively at the money, hooked a finger in his shirt collar, and pulled him into the living room. I pushed him back into our cushy lounge chair, and then knelt in front of him. My blowjob started almost immediately, and we were soon fucking on the sofa soon after that. I made a note to not do that in fish net stockings again.

We went out to dinner, and I used some of the ‘high-end’ money Dax had given me to pay for it. ‘My’ treat.

Saturday, before Ross’ Sex Party, Sheri, Tara – who was in town, Molly, Allison, and I met and compared notes about what we needed to have an escort business besides our pussies. I also had Beth’s list that she’d added to, in an email.

We needed lots and lots of pictures, and then seductive descriptions about each of us that included hints at what a night with us would be like. We also needed to decided what to charge. Beth had recommended starting at $600 an hour, or $2,500 for a full evening or overnight. We should expect several hundred more as a tip beyond that number.

Thanks to Crystal Blue Photography, the five of us soon had a hundred sexy pictures of each of us in a wide range of outfits and situations that were all sexually suggestive. We emphasized bikini shots and lingerie, and one or two where our full breasts showed through the material or our bra was missing

Dax helped me over the weekend and by Sunday night ‘City Girls’ had a pretty plain vanilla website. The 1-888 phone number given on the site terminated in a new ‘burner’ cellphone that I had. If I couldn’t answer, there was a friendly message asking for a call back number in a husky and sexy tone. In lieu of a call-back number, the caller could leave a time when they’d call back and we’d try to be ready to respond.

I also did a little computer work and created a ‘Model Card’ for City Girls that hinted at the sexuality but emphasized ‘companionship’ any one of the five of us could offer during a visit to our fair town. I also created some business cards for each of us.

If anything, the model and business cards left the impression that we were interior decorators. What was unique was that I also listed ‘our’ subsidiary: City Guys, and used some hunky pictures of Dax, Ross, and Alan from our Saturday parties with their permission.

The men also got some ‘sporty’ photos taken, including some where they were naked but holding a bath towel in just the right way to hide The Full Monty.

There were only six hotels in town that had full-time concierges. I visited the two largest hotels and had pretty blunt talks with the hotel employees that were supposed to assist guests and keep them happy. They nodded knowingly and accepted multiple copies of the cards.

I also asked what ‘share’ they might consider good recompense for a recommendation that turned into business. Ten percent seemed acceptable to both. One of the men told me that was close to ‘industry’ standard.

I went home and sat by the phone. The first call came a week later about two o’clock one afternoon from Kirk Ritter, the concierge at the Ritz. He had a single male guest that was looking for ‘companionship’ for dinner and perhaps some dancing afterward. I confirmed a place where one of us would meet him in the lounge at the Ritz. I suggested that we’d be carrying a lone flower to aid in identification. Kirk also gave me a report of what the gentleman looked like.

Sheri, Molly, Allison, Tara, and I had already met to determine the ‘batting order’ for our first dates. We’d drawn names from a hat, to decide who would be first to greet our first client, who we referred to as Mr. One-Night-Stand. Sheri won the privilege of being first.

I called her and told her all I knew about her impending ‘date’. Molly and I went over to her home and helped her with her wardrobe decisions plus what she’d carry in her oversize shoulder bag – lube, condoms, change of clothes, dildo, dance and casual shoes, bikini, and more.