My friends and co-workers were throwing me a big party. We were stock traders, employed by a one of the smaller, but more aggressive firms, and we’d just gotten our third quarter bonus checks. The job paid well, but it meant crazy long hours, questionable hygiene, and the occasional temper tantrum. I needed this party, badly; we all did.

“Happy Birthday, Callie!” Rhonda gave me a hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks,” I said. “Where’s Ted?”

“He’s around,” she replied. “Probably hitting on that slut from upstairs. Did you see her tits?”

“Uhhh...” I laughed. “They’re hard to miss.”

“One hundred percent Mexican,” Rhonda declared. “She swears they’re real, but there’s no way. Right? Right?”

“Right!” I agreed.

Us flat-chested girls had to stick together, after all. Not that I was flat, of course, with my perky B-cups, but poor Rhonda ... The girl was nothing but nipples. Nice ones, to be sure, and I always admired her in the showers after our Saturday yoga class, but she had issues. And that was too bad, I thought, because Rhonda was a very pretty young woman. Her boyish chest and puffy brown nipples weren’t the only parts of her that I found attractive and I almost wished that her husband really was hitting on the slut from upstairs.

“Come on,” I said, taking her by the hand. “Let’s get another drink.”

“Yeah!” Rhonda drained whatever was in her glass and nodded. “I want to get plastered.”

Unfortunately, Ted showed up a few minutes later, so I wasn’t going to get tipsy Rhonda alone in the bathroom. That had been my plan, more or less, but it was probably better this way. Out of the two dozen traders in my office, there were only five women, and of those, I was the only one that was openly gay. If I started hitting on the other four, it might get kind of awkward, you know? I’d gone out of my way to play it straight in my professional life, if you’ll pardon the expression, but I was so fucking horny!

“Heya, Callie!” Ted gave me a big smile and then a big hug. “Happy birthday! What is that for you, twenty-two?”

“Something like that,” I agreed, but everyone knew that I was turning twenty-eight.

Why did that seem so old all of a sudden? Probably because thirty sounded so scary, and it was getting closer all the time, but I hadn’t really noticed until now. I didn’t want to think about that. I didn’t want to stand there and watch Rhonda snuggle up to her man, either. They were twenty-two, or maybe twenty-three by then, who cares. They were younger than me and married less than a year, so still newlyweds, and that turned me on, too.

What would it be like to fuck a married woman who hadn’t even celebrated her first wedding anniversary yet? It would be almost as good as doing a virgin, I thought with a tiny shiver. She was straight as an arrow too, sexy little Rhonda. I’d been queer a long time and I’d learned how to talk with girls, how to find out if they were curious. If they’d ever fooled around a little back in high school or college. Heck, a lot of times they couldn’t wait to confess everything, as if I’d be impressed. As soon a woman found out I was gay, most of them just had to tell how they’d had a little fling with a friend or a cousin maybe.

Not Rhonda. She’d had three boyfriends in her life and married the only one that had fucked her. She’d never even considered being with another girl.

“I’m not saying it’s bad or anything,” she’d told me once, “but it seems kind of gross.”

“Gross?” I’d frowned at that, but I knew where it was coming from, too.

Rhonda didn’t know why she felt that way, I guarantee you. Most people wouldn’t, probably, but I did and it had nothing to do with sex.

“Well, not gross,” she quickly said, seeing the look on my face. “It’s just not something I could ever do, that’s all.”

The wheels were suddenly turning as I watched handsome Ted put his arm around his wife’s narrow waist. He whispered something in her ear and she laughed. I loved that sound, and I don’t know why, but it reminded me of a glass wind chime I’d heard as a child. She tilted her head back, with her thick blonde hair bouncing around her shoulders. She had a shaggy pageboy cut that had grown out to look like something else. Something wild and sexy just then. Her dark eyes seemed to glitter and her face had turned pink. She was clearly happy and excited, maybe even a bit aroused by whatever Ted was saying.

And the wheels were turning as my tummy filled with butterflies. Someday soon, I would get Rhonda alone and vulnerable, and I’d turn Ted’s happy little wife into my horny little bitch ... But not tonight. Fate had other plans for me.

“Alright, what kind of stupid are you guys?” I asked, several hours later.

We were having our party at the mid-town Marriott, in a red velvet piano lounge on the mezzanine. Thankfully, the piano player had the night off. There was a real band, a well-stocked bar, and plenty of tables to dance on. For some reason, however, some of the party had moved upstairs. My boss, Dave, had taken me by the arm. I was the birthday girl. We’d crammed stupidly into elevators with everyone else and gotten out on the fifth floor.

“The good kind of stupid!” Dave answered. Everyone else cheered, and by that I mean about a dozen people that had followed along to see me open my present.

“Open it up, Callie!” Rhonda shouted, and we were going to get in trouble if this kept up.

They’d put gift wrapping paper all over the door leading to room 515, and a big red bow in the center. I laughed and looked around the crowded hallway, surprised one of the other guests hadn’t called security yet. It was after midnight and everyone was pretty buzzed, including me.

“Awww ... You guys got me a door?” I sighed. “You shouldn’t have!”

“Go on! ... Hurry up! ... Open the door!” they urged me, a dozen people all talking at once in drunkenly excited fashion.

I considered the magnetic room key that they’d put in a cutesy-corny birthday card just for me and gave them one last look. “If I open this door and see my Mini-Cooper...”

“Shit!” Dave slapped his forehead. “Why didn’t we think of that?”

With nothing else to do now but see what my friends had gotten me, I swiped the key and pushed the door open. I don’t know what I expected. This wasn’t the first birthday party we’d thrown around the office, but it was the first one for me. The first one that involved a hotel room, for sure. It was oddly exciting and I felt a little nervous as I looked over my shoulder.

“Aren’t you guys coming?” I asked, but they seemed to think that was a funny suggestion.

“Have fun,” Rhonda said with a giggle and a wave. Ted smiled and gave me a thumbs up. Dave started herding people towards the elevators, looking at his watch and saying that the bar would only be open for another hour. Like they weren’t drunk enough?

Actually, I figured they’d be right back anyway. The only thing that could possibly make sense would be if another dozen or so people were waiting to surprise me. I guess if I’d stopped to think about it, moving the party from the spacious hotel bar to a cramped hotel room didn’t make a lot of sense, but I was a bit drunk. I expected to see balloons and a cake or something. Maybe a stack of presents waiting for me on the bed ... And I was close.

There was a present waiting for me on the bed.

Like most hotel rooms, this one had a small foyer, with a tiny closet on the right and the bathroom entry on my left. I had to take a half-dozen steps before I was properly in the room. The lights were on, naturally, the standard fare bedside lamps with their natural glow bulbs. The television was on, I realized, but tuned to one of the music channels. Classical? I heard a piano, but what do I know about Mozart? I was a little distracted anyway.

“Hello,” a soft female voice said. “You must be Calico. I’m Eva.”

“Uh ... Hi.” I glanced around the room, but we were alone.

The woman possessed genuine beauty and wasn’t afraid to show off in an emerald camisole and tap pants set that went well with her sultry eyes. A tangle of rich black hair fell around her pretty face, and she’d been blessed with an exotic combination of high cheeks, a small upturned nose, and full, pouting lips. Her caramel complexion was especially interesting and she obviously came from a Latin or Hispanic background.

She posed on the bed for half a minute at least, neither of us speaking. I simply stood there, taking in her wide shoulders and large breasts, slender waist and deftly curved hips. I marveled at her legs, which seemed incredibly long, and wondered about her height. At least five-ten, I thought, and probably more like six feet. I stood five-six with a generous yardstick, and always envied women taller than myself.

Yeah, this girl was gorgeous. She had gold rings on her fingers, a golden ankle bracelet just above her left foot, and nails painted bright red like her lips. If there was one thing wrong with this vision of female beauty, it was only that she wasn’t female.

“Okay, very funny,” I finally said. I looked around the hotel room, thinking there had to be a phone planted somewhere to capture my reaction.

“What’s wrong?” Eva asked, her smile faltering. “I’m here for you.”

“Yeah,” I said, still trying to find the hidden camera. “My friends got me a transvestite for my birthday. That’s great.”

“I’m not a transvestite,” she said. “I’m transsexual. You can call me a shemale or a ladyboy or whatever you want, but I’m not a transvestite. Okay?”

“Fine,” I agreed, rolling my eyes. “What if I just call you a taxi?”

“What’s your problem?” she asked, definitely getting pissed. “They told me you like girls.”

“And you want to know what my problem is?” I laughed, staring pointedly at her crotch. “Whatever. You got paid, right? So it was nice meeting you.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” she said. “You think this is a joke? Like I’m a joke?”

“Isn’t it?” I snorted. “I’m a lesbian, you’re ... whatever you are, and they’re fucking with me.”

“I didn’t get that impression at all,” Eva countered. “In fact, when someone is willing to pay two thousand dollars for my services, they’re usually pretty serious about it.”

“How much?” I blinked at her.

“Two grand,” she said, “not including the twenty percent gratuity I’m going to add just because you’re such a bitch.”

I ignored the insult, mostly because I really was being a bitch, but also because I was trying to wrap my mind around the fact that my friends had spent that much money on me. Forget that my gift was a transsexual escort, two grand was a lot of money to spend on a joke. Did they actually think I would enjoy Eva’s so-called services? No. It had to be a joke or they would have gotten me a real woman.

But that didn’t mean I had to be an asshole.

“Yeah, I know,” I finally said, sitting on the bed near her feet. “Look, I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect ... you.”

I laughed self-consciously, really feeling stupid now that my initial anger had started to dissipate. I could never stay mad for long, and this girl didn’t deserve to take any shit from me. She was just doing her job. Working hard on a Saturday night. That must suck. There were probably a hundred places she’d rather be, and things she’d rather be doing.

“Well, you have me...” she said with a shrug, “ ... if you want me.”

“Uh...”

“I’m not a man,” Eva told me. “I promise. We can do whatever you like. If my cock doesn’t turn you on at all, I know a lot of other ways to make you feel good.”

She’d lowered her voice to a husky whisper and her eyes had softened noticeably. For a few minutes there I’d seen a flash of Latin temperament, but I supposed a woman in her line of work had to possess a lot of patience. How hard it must be to walk into a strange room and meet someone for the first time, a man or even a woman, who only wanted to use you like a pocket pussy ... or a dildo, I suppose. Could I do that? Probably not and as unlikely as it seems, I felt a growing sense of respect for Eva.

“Where are you from?” I asked, but just to stall, really.

“I’m an American,” she said, giving me a dark look. “What do you think?”

“Sorry. No, I didn’t mean...” I frowned.

“Me too,” she said, softening immediately. “My parents came from Brazil and I was born in Nashville.”

“Nashville?” I couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s a long story,” Eva said, smiling.

“I bet. Uh ... How long have you been doing this?” I wondered. “I mean, if you don’t mind talking about it.”

“I don’t mind,” she replied. “It’s nice to talk sometimes. In fact, I like it when I can spend some time getting to know my dates.”

“Is that what this is?” I smiled. “A date?”

“That’s a good word for it, don’t you think?”

“I guess so,” I agreed. “It just sounds kind of ... cliché?”

“Ohhh...” She laughed lightly. “Like the girls uptown? Hey, Sailor ... Looking for a date?”

“Exactly,” I agreed, grinning. “But yeah, date is a good word, I suppose.”

“Anyway, I’ve been doing this since college,” she said, answering my original question.

“That must have been like last week,” I said, looking her up and down. “How old are you? Twenty?”

“Twenty-one,” Eva said. “Pretty good. Do you guess weight, too?”

“Not if I don’t want to get slapped,” I replied, both of us grinning. “I love your legs.”

“Thank you! I spend a lot of time at the gym.”

“I bet ... I mean, you look great everywhere. I’m kind of jealous.”

“You don’t have to be,” she said, giving me her sexy voice again. “I’d love to share my body with you, Calico.”

“Just Callie,” I told her. “Calico is what they call me when I’m in trouble.”

“And you don’t think you’re in trouble now ... Calico?” she teased, parting her lush red lips and showing me her tongue. It was pierced with a stainless stud and I liked that a lot. I wondered if she had any other piercings I should know about.

“I don’t know yet,” I answered, honestly. “This is really, uh ... Brand new for me.”

“We have all night,” she promised. “Would you like a massage? Maybe that will help you relax while you make up your mind.”

“A massage?”

Eva smiled. “I’m very good at it, I promise.”

“I should probably go home and...”

“What’s the matter,” Eva asked, sitting up and swinging those long, bronzed legs off the bed. She leaned close, bringing her lips to my ear. “Afraid you might actually enjoy it when I touch you?”

She smelled wonderful and it surprised me that I hadn’t noticed before. Not a sweet or cloying smell, not like perfume, but something else. Something common, but unusual...

“Cinnamon?” I asked, smiling as recognition came to me.

“My body lotion,” she said. “Do you like it?”

“It’s delicious,” I told her without thinking.

“I know,” she sighed and put a hand on my shoulder. “Let me give you a massage. I have more lotion in my bag.”

“Okay.” I nodded. “You talked me into it.”

“Take off your clothes,” Eva instructed. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m only going to grab my bag out of the bathroom.”

“Oh.”

As she stood up, I was able to fully appreciate not only Eva’s marvelous height, but just how perfectly proportioned her body seemed to be. Her tits were firm and upright, and at least a full cup size larger than mine. I could see them jiggle slightly and her nipples were enticing, and obviously stiff beneath the silk camisole. She had a slim waist, and curvy hips, and a tight, round ass that demanded the undivided attention of someone like me – I love ass!

Call me try-curious if you want, but when Eva walked across the room, I could see the cheeks of her butt peeking from those sexy shorts, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested. Seriously, if it wasn’t for the small, but incongruent Adam’s apple, and some other slight physical details that I probably wouldn’t even notice at all under normal circumstances, she was more passable than a lot of genetic women I knew.

“Come on,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “Don’t be shy.”

Like most of our parties, this one had been advertised as dress casual and while I’d never been much for wearing a dress, this time I’d made an exception. I’d worn a red leather skirt, mid-thigh, and an inexpensive black blouse. It was made of rayon or something like that, very light and had a deep neck with a notched collar. I could wear that blouse with jeans, if I wanted, or wear the skirt with a sports bra and leather jacket. My closet was a mish-mash and I liked a little bit of everything. I wasn’t a clothes horse, is what I’m trying to say, I’m what some of my queer friends might call a chapstick lesbian.

I kicked off my heels and for just a few seconds paused, wondering if I really wanted to get naked. Or at least topless; I wasn’t wearing a bra, but I did have a pair of panties on and didn’t really plan on taking those off. But Eva was right – What did I have to be afraid of? I’d found myself starting to like her, perhaps, and while the idea of sleeping with a shemale wasn’t very appealing in the abstract, she was so damn gorgeous. And I was still so damn horny.

“This is weird,” I muttered, but my mind was made up and I started working the buttons on my blouse.

“What was that?” Eva asked. She’d gathered a few lotion bottles and a couple of Marriott’s extra-large bath towels.

“Just talking to myself,” I replied, standing as I removed my blouse.

At first I almost felt shy about exposing myself to her. I mean, the last time anyone with a penis had seen my bare boobs I’d been a child. I couldn’t remember the last time my dad would have seen my naked, but it had been a long time before I hit puberty, and we were long past that now! But that was just being silly. Eva was an escort, a whore by any other name, and I was her client. It didn’t make a lot of sense to worry about showing her my tits.