“We’re here,” Ashley said, waiting for Eric to open the door before grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the limo and onto the sidewalk, “be cool, ok? Trust me. It’s going to be a walk in the park.”

A walk in the park? Apparently no one had ever sat this girl down and explained that some phrases don’t work for every occasion.

We hurried past the stone fountain and right inside, where I immediately recognized the surroundings. I had been here before on one of my very first jobs. Though I didn’t exactly have the opportunity to walk down memory lane with Ashley preferring the fast lane instead. She seemed noticeably more tense since our arrival. It made me wonder if she was like this before she met every client or if there was something about this particular one that brought out the edge.

We were escorted to the table by a hostess who barely took our names, almost as if she had seen Ashley before. As we approached I immediately noted the dynamics between Mr. and Mrs. Pierce. I couldn’t help but laugh a little out of utter relief.

It was your basic, everyday stereotype of the older rich guy with the bi-curious, blonde, trophy wife and I absolutely reveled in it. Because even as I allowed my attraction for Ashley to pluck away at the strands of my sanity, some things never changed. I still knew this business like the back of hand. And soon Mrs. Pierce was going to be very familiar with that very same hand.

“Hi, I’m Spencer,” I said, directly facing Mr. Pierce and then the Mrs. as well.

Ashley looked slightly caught off guard. I guess she assumed she’d be doing most of the talking this evening.

“Spencer, I’m Maureen. It’s very nice to meet you. Come. Come sit down here right next to me,” the blonde said, patting the seat beside her.

“And Ashley,” David said, obviously still impressed by his familiar brunette, “I’d love for you to keep me company on this side.”

Ashley gave a polite smile before sitting next to David and consequently across from me.

“So, shall we order?” the lone male at our dysfunctional table asked as we all settled in.

“I already know what I want,” Maureen answered, and just like that she showed me why she preferred skirts.

The night had gone as expected, everything happening exactly in the order that Ashley had said it would. Maureen was all over me and by the time we made it up to their hotel room for “conversation”, my nerves had subsided completely. Instead I slipped into the persona I had come to know very, very well over the past few years. You see, I’m often asked (by the few who actually know my line of work) how I do it. Isn’t it scary? Don’t you feel violated? You know, the usual line of questioning for a whore. I mean, that’s what I am right? That’s what you think. No one seems to believe me when I say my job is just like anyone else’s.

David spread across the bed on his back, contented to watch the events unfold before participating himself.

“Spencer, maybe you and Ashley should…” Maureen said, sitting next to her husband, “maybe you should show us why you’re called professionals.”

So this was it. In the excitement of the evening I had almost forgotten that this moment would happen. Ashley seemed to notice my sudden discomfort and closed the gap between us herself, pulling me close.

“Relax, Spence,” she whispered against my ear, sending a rush of heat to every single part of my body.