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Christmas memories for most people involve past trips to relatives’ houses, that one special gift that topped all others, drinking eggnog by the fireplace and so on. Yet for the past few Christmases these commonplace holiday memories have been replaced by the memories of events of a certain Christmas, about 5 years ago.
My name is Gabrielle and at the time that this happened, I was only 21 years old. I was living with my boyfriend Mark (who is now my husband) and we were having some money troubles. Well, I was, anyway. He had a decent full-time job, but I was a waitress. The restaurant cut back my hours that fall and I desperately looked for another part-time job, but there wasn’t one that was willing to work around my schedule. Between his paychecks and my tips, we managed to meet our bills and rent every month, with little to spare. Come Christmas, I realized I wouldn’t have enough to buy him anything nice – no camping gear, no nice new clothes, no computer gadgets. I had already peeked at his hiding place for my presents and I felt ashamed – what was I going to do on Christmas morning after I opened all my presents and then I had nothing to give him?
Christmas was creeping up on me, and I had taken some odd jobs helping relatives pack and move, but those jobs didn’t render much cash. Mark was at work one day and it was my day off, and I was in the shower, stressing out about my dilemma. Slowly my thoughts wandered, and I thought about the time I was in a porno shop, gazing at fetish magazines and the like. A creepy looking man had come up to me and offered to buy me whatever I liked, if only I would go into one of the peepshow rooms with him and spank him. I shuddered at the memory. What did I look like, some common whore? I thought indignantly. Of course, I refused the man. Suddenly I had a magnificent idea – I could sell myself! Could I?
I thought about it some more. I had seen prostitutes wandering around the bad parts of town, scary looking women with few teeth and hollow eyes. I, on the other hand, was no slouch. Climbing out of the shower, I wiped the steam off the mirror and surveyed what I had to work with. Long, soft, wavy chestnut brown hair, peaches and cream skin, fine, delicate features, a trim, supple 36D-22-35 figure – no, I wasn’t that bad at all! Surely I could garner a decent price, far better than the cracked-out looking whores I had seen. I felt a twinge of guilt – I had never been unfaithful to my boyfriend. My mind wandered back to the lovely gifts he had bought me – yes, I would sell myself and that was that. It was already December 22nd, so if I was going to do this, I had to get a move on.
I rubbed some sweet-smelling lotion all over my body, followed by little dabs of vanilla perfume here and there – behind my ears, on my wrists, between my breasts. I contemplated for a moment before my closet, and finally chose a white button-down shirt and a short plaid skirt. Although I was illegal bahis 21, I knew I could pass for 15 or 16, and besides, the schoolgirl fetish was big among men, wasn’t it?
As I drove down to the adult bookstore, I guessed at what kind of man I would end up selling myself to. It would have to be a real sicko for me to find them at a porn store in broad daylight. A portly, middle-class men with a strange fetish, maybe? A wealthy business man who got his kicks from hiring whores?
You may find it strange that I thought this through so nonchalantly, but I was by no means a prude. I had never been promiscuous, either – I had slept with a handful of guys, mostly boyfriends, with a only few one night stands. Some of the experiences I had were unsatisfactory, and that was the best I could hope for with selling myself – sucking off a middle aged banker while wearing a school-girl outfit, and walking away with a sizable profit. Nothing too bad, right?
I pulled up to the adult bookstore and climbed out of my car nervously, smoothing out my plaid skirt. I strode in and ignored the raised eyebrows from the fruity-looking sales staff. I went straight to the hardcore part of the store -that was my best bet. I glanced around and took stock of the men around me. Some were gaping at me but none approached me. Most of them looked very blue-collar and scruffy – that would never do for what I needed. I pretended to become absorbed in looking at bondage porn and slowly became aware of the smell of aftershave closeby. I looked up.
“Hello, my dear. I see we have some common interests.”
There stood an attractive, middle-aged man, mid to early 40s, with an out-of-season tan and a full head of salt-and-pepper hair. He smiled at me as he said this, showing me a bright white, toothy grin. I looked him up and down – he was obviously a man of means who was trying to downplay his wealth some, judging by his casual dress. Still, everything about him screamed well-to-do – from his Rolex to his Italian-leather shoes.
I smiled demurely. “Perhaps”.
“Tell you what…” He leaned in closer. “I saw you looking at some of that bondage gear over there. I can tell you want it badly, but surely a girl of your age can’t afford such things. Well, I happen to have some money on me. Perhaps I can buy it for you. And I think you might have something I want, too.”
Bingo! Just as soon as I felt triumphant and relieved, the prude in me rushed up and squashed those feelings. I was in the process of disgracing myself, not only myself, but my boyfriend too! Tears welled up in my eyes.
I was no longer the saucy little pseudo-schoolgirl he first saw. My shoulders slumped and I began to cry quietly.
“There, there!” He patted me on the shoulder. “Let’s go get some coffee and have a little chat. I honestly didn’t mean to stir you up like this. Come on, what do you say?”
I looked illegal bahis siteleri up at his face, kindly instead of lecherous now, almost fatherly.
I smiled, and sniffling, I agreed.
We took his BMW to a nearby coffeehouse. He led me to a table in a secluded corner, ordered for me, and lit a cigarillo.
As he exhaled, he patted my hand and said to me, “Now why don’t you tell me what’s going on? What’s a nice girl like you doing prancing around in a porn store dressed like that?”
I felt I could trust this man, with his gentle voice and comforting hand on mine. I let my sad story bubble forth.
“I need some money to buy my boyfriend a Christmas present! I’ve never been a prostitute before, but I just couldn’t think of any other way to get some quick cash!”
He nodded sympathetically. “Well, your boyfriend is a lucky man, that you would do something like this for him. Now, how much do you need?”
“About $200. I guess I can’t expect as much from just one time, but…” My voice trailed off as I eyed his expensive-looking ring.
“I see.” He straightened his back and lowered his voice. “Well, dear, I can take care of you, and for just one time. But nothing is free. You will have to do something for me. What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t. It’s Annette,” I lied. Instantly I felt foolish. Nobody of my generation was named Annette. I kicked myself.
He laughed. “Annette. Alright then. You will only know me by Alex, understand? Now, I trust that you’re on…well, that you protect yourself?”
“Yes, sir.” I had been on the Pill since I was 17.
“That’s good. I abhor using condoms.” He pulled out his wallet and slipped some bills under the ashtray for the waitress. “Ok, Annette, you are to come to this address tomorrow night around 5. Tell your boyfriend something, lie to him. Of course you wouldn’t tell anyone what you’re really doing.” He smiled as he scribbled on a piece of paper. He slid it over to me and I glanced at it. It was a room number for a hotel, one of the nicer hotels in the area. He continued, “I like what you are wearing, but it really doesn’t matter what you wear tomorrow night. Just no panties. Any questions?”
I shook my head.
He extinguished his cigarillo and stood up. “Alright dear, it’s a done deal. May I drive you back to your car?”
I told Mark I was working at the restaurant the following night. I didn’t act suspicious and he suspected nothing. I prepared for my first night of prostitution – I shaved my pubic area smooth and even douched, something I rarely do. Alex, as I knew my wealthy benefactor, was a man of taste and should have the best I can offer. I felt slightly proud at having bagged such a handsome, rich man on my first try. I wore the same thing as the day before – the schoolgirl outfit, without panties. I left my long, shapely legs bare and climbed into some high-heeled mary-jane canlı bahis siteleri shoes. I did wear a white lacy bra, but left my shirt unbuttoned so far that one could almost have a glimpse at the white lace.
Upon arriving at the hotel, I felt a little conspicuous going into such a classy place dressed like that, but the desk staff didn’t bat an eye.
I found the assigned room easily and the door was ajar. I pushed it open slowly, and finding it pitch black inside, groped for a lightswitch. Before I found it, though, someone grabbed me from behind and covered my mouth with a rough hand. I didn’t even think about screaming, though – I was too stunned and scared to make a peep.
When the man who had hold of me realized I was not going to struggle or make noise, he switched the light on. I stared in amazement around me – there must have been almost 30 men lounging around in that luxurious hotel room. There were all kinds of men, handsome, ugly, average looking, slim, muscular, heavyset, tall, short, and every race imaginable. They were also in various stages of undress. Some had their cocks out, stroking in anticipation. Some were simply rubbing themselves through their pants.
The man who had grabbed me at first let me go. Finally my eyes focused on Alex, who was sitting in a handsome brown leather armchair in a royal blue velvet bed jacket. He smiled at me.
I sputtered, trying to find the right words.
“Alex! What’s going on…? You didn’t tell me about any of these men! Who are they? Is this a joke?”
Suddenly I felt scared and more than a little stupid. Prostitutes get killed all the time. Some guys got their kicks that way. At this point, money was the farthest thing from my mind. I just wanted to get away unscathed.
Alex rose and kissed my cheek. “Don’t be frightened, dear. When I heard your tale of woe yesterday, I wanted to help you. A beautiful girl like you deserves more than $200 for her services. But as I said, nothing is free. You can hardly expect just one person to pay so much for a night with a prostitute. So I called some friends. We will all contribute, that is, if you are a good sport, and you will get much more than your asking price. IF you play along.”
He added that last part in a foreboding, warning voice, and I knew I would have to play along. It was my best bet, and I had no doubt that if I wasn’t a “good sport”, these men could gang up on me and mangle me in seconds. I nodded.
Alex walked over to the little bar and motioned toward the elaborate glass bottles of brown liquor. “Now, my dear, before we get started, would you like a drink? I think you could use a drink. You look a little bewildered. What’s your poison?”
The man who had grabbed me when I first entered the room, who I now saw was a large, muscular, handsome black man, took my coat and I sat down on an unoccupied corner of a bed. I looked at all the men leering and smiling at me. Be a good sport, the voice in my head urged. I cleared my throat and managed a smile. I was in this and there was no getting out for now. Might as well have a drink.
“Scotch, please.” And Alex poured my drink…
To be continued!
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