Sally-Ann's Rain Man - Sex Stories

Sally-Ann's Rain Man

... out of place. Without my knowledge, Jose’ committed me to a high priced escort service catering to rich businessmen; he forged my name on a one year contact. They specialized among other things in providing companions for businessmen from Asian or Middle Eastern countries....need I say more? I returned to my apartment from my hair stylist one afternoon to find Jose’ with a Korean businessman in his sixties drinking single-malt Scotch waiting for me. I wore my hair curly and shoulder length or in a short curly bob in those days. Rule number one; nobody was allowed in my apartment for any type of business. My private life was separate from my then chosen career. As I said, I did it for the money and it paid well. Jose’ took me into my bedroom to show me the stack of cash we made in advance; five thousand dollars; this was my cut and he talked excitedly that my contract guaranteed me a minimum of twenty-five grand a month for six days work if I would sweeten these men with a little sugar....sex. We had a heated argument about the contract. He was also angry that I didn’t get my hair cut as short as he wanted it and that came up. Jose’ became angrier still when as he put it, “I wouldn’t listen to reason on both counts”. I fired him on the spot and walked out of the bedroom with the money to throw the old lecherous Korean out with Jose’ along with him; they could both hit the road. For the first time, Jose’ hit me; he slapped me around in front of the old lecherous businessman, ...

... calling me filthy names. He hit me several times, giving me a fat lip and bloody nose and still I refused. He threatened to cut my face up if I didn’t do as I was told. That was a big mistake on Jose’s part as he reached for his knife, smiling, all cocky and self-assured while looking at the Korean saying, “This whore needs to be put in her place”. While he was distracted in his bravado, I kicked my so-called bodyguard where it counts before breaking an alabaster lamp over his head rendering him unconscious in a crumpled heap of blood and vomit....kicking him in the face for good measure. I threw the money at the old lecher telling him to get the hell out or he would get more of the same. The old poltroon practically ran out with his tail between his legs, tripping on the rug and almost falling flat on his face as he tried to scoop up the money; one final kick by me squarely on his buttocks to send out the door. Hours later, after Jose’ was carried out on a gurney when New York’s Finest were done questioning me. I locked myself in my bedroom to have a good long cry; more than a good cry actually, I was shaking with fright. Afterward, I telephoned my Grandma. The next day I packed whatever I could fit in two suitcases, taking the bus, the same way I got here; leaving everything else behind to return to my hometown to start my life over. I moved in with my Dad’s mother, my Grandma Beanie; short for Beatrice; I could never pronounce Grandma’s name as a little girl therefore it was ...