I got my first call the day after the photoshoot. I was less than prepared. I had just gotten home from picking my car up from the bar I’d been at the night before, and I still smelled like cigarettes and spilled beer. My phone rang. Two-thirty appointment at incall (For those of you that don’t know, an incall is a house, hotel room, or apartment paid for and maintained by the agency, or the provider if she’s independent).

This was happening kinda fast.

I drove over to the incall, punched in the gate code, and went into the building. I was confused. No one had told me how to handle the “situation.” I didn’t know how to greet clients, how to subtly ask for the fee, or how to initiate the actual session. Once again, I lucked out. Another girl was already at the apartment, and she explained the spiel to me. Invite the client in. Check his ID if he’s new. Offer him a drink. Tell him he can leave his “gift” on the counter. Count the money and drop the agency’s fee in the safe. Check in with the agency. Meet him in a bedroom. Get down to business.

Someone knocked on the door. My face went red, not from embarrassment, but from nervousness. I let the client, DS, in and asked for his ID. He’d forgotten it. Of course something would go wrong on my first appointment. I called M and she told me to let it go. Even though he was new to me, he wasn’t new to the agency.

When I got into the bedroom, DS was sitting in a chair, pants already down, shirt up to expose his chest and stomach. I hadn’t realized how awkward I would feel being with a guy I had no attraction to until just then. He took control.

“C’mere, baby girl. Get down on your knees and suck.”

I did what I was told. He told me to take my panties off and stick my ass in the air. Again, I complied. He groped my ass and poked around a little bit.

“Yeah, I think I could fit my dick in there.”

I don’t like assplay of any sort, besides spanking. My one experience with anal was less than pleasant. A piss drunk ex-boyfriend “accidentally” slipped into my ass during doggie style one pitch-black night. It was painful. I rolled into a fetal position and cried. While the jury’s still out on whether or not it truly was an accident, I’ve already decided it’s not something I want to repeat, planned or not. DS left the subject alone. About fifteen minutes in to his half hour, we heard a crash outside the bedroom. The other girl, Katie, had tripped over something.

“Ay baby, go get that other girl in here. I wanna see her tits.”

We don’t work for free. I told him as much. He said he’d pay her an extra hundred. I don’t know if he ever did. Regardless, I asked her to come in the room with us and she followed.

I got back down on my knees and went down on him again. My jaw was getting sore. I wasn’t sure if I could do this for ten hours a week, even spaced out. Katie pulled the straps of her top down, and he squeezed her tits and pinched her nipples while shoving my head down. He looked like he was trying to milk a cow. I would have laughed if my mouth weren’t full.

“She’s real good at this, isn’t she?”

Slight, bizarre ego boost. And yet, he still wasn’t coming. Just groaning and groping. I asked him if I was doing anything wrong, if he wanted me to do anything differently.

“It would take a lot more than this to get me off.”

Ouch. Ego deflated. He didn’t say it in a mean way, though. And I suppose I understand where he was coming from. I love love love sex, but I can’t get off from straight fucking. At least, I never have.

Finally, the session drew to a close. Apparently, he had been watching the clock since I couldn’t in my position. Katie and I left the room so that DS could get dressed. I let him out with a hug.

Cue the thought train: A hug? What. The. Fuck? I hug my grandparents goodbye. Lord, I hope they never find out. It would kill my poor grandma. And Grandpa’s already got one foot in the grave. At least this pays well. I can finally pay off my credit card bills. And pay next semester’s tuition. I cannot fucking wait until I graduate. No real job is going to pay like this, though. I’m making as much per hour as some people with their fancy graduate degrees make. Ha, I should tell my uncle that the next time he brags about my cousin getting into Yale. Or Princeton. Wherever she’s going. This is one of the least sexy things I’ve ever done. Including that time I puked in my hair before having that one-night stand. At least that guy was hot. This guy was just… Well. Not up to standard, that’s for sure. I like ‘em masculine. Bear Grylls, yum! What the hell was up with all those little curlicues this guy called chest hair? At least he had trimmed his pubes for me. So thoughtful…

And so, I collected my things and went home, $100 richer.

The job may not be glamorous, but it pays.

*NOTE* There is something wrong with this post. The people I’ve had review this all agree – there’s something missing. Probably emotion. But that’s because my first call wasn’t an emotional one for me. I have clients that I adore hanging out with, and I have clients that I detest. The first one was neither; I was simply indifferent. I’ll get to the good stuff soon enough.

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