My Secret Life: Chapter One - Sex Stories

My Secret Life: Chapter One

... said. “You don’t have a problem with kissing do you?” “A little,” I replied. “For the money he’s paying he expects the girlfriend experience,” she said. “Be very affectionate.” “Okay,” I said before hanging up. A few minutes later Jackson emerged from the bedroom. As he plopped himself back on the couch he asked, “Did the bitch call to tell you that didn’t get another gig?” “The exact opposite,” I answered. “Get the fuck out of here,” he said laughing. “When is this so-called gig?” “Tonight, I replied. “It’s a private fashion show for an up-and-coming designer. Another model backed out and he picked me.” “Really?” he asked. “Yep,” I said. “How much does it pay?” he asked. “I don’t know,” I responded. “At a minimum I’ll get five hundred dollars, but Maureen is trying to negotiate for more since it’s last minute.” “Holy fuck,” he said. “This is awesome news. Can I come?” “Sorry,” I said, “This is a private event. Invite only.” “Fine I don’t want to go anyways,” he said as turned on the X-Box and started playing Grand Theft Auto. I had about two hours to get ready. First thing I did was find my sexy black dress. I then took a shower. Did my hair. By the time I was done I got a text from the driver telling me he was outside. As I walked past Jackson, he noticed what I was wearing and asked, “Why are you dressed like you’re going to the club?” “Because after the show it’s customary to go out with the designer?” I replied. “Can I meet you there?” he asked while giving me a puppy ...

... dog look. “Models only,” I said. “Whatever,” he said as I walked out the door. When I got outside the driver was standing in front of the car holding the door open. He didn’t say a word. The ride was silent, except for the baseball game he was listening to on the radio. The closer we got to downtown the more nervous I got. I started wishing I was anywhere but here. As soon as we pulled up to the hotel I knew the only place I could go was inside. The driver parked in front. He got out and opened my door. As I stepped out he said, “Room 317.” Walking through the lobby was a surreal experience. I wondered if the hotel staff knew what I was and why I was there. I wondered if the women behind the desk were going to call the police. I then started panicking that my client was a cop. I didn’t think this through. I wondered if there was a backdoor that I could use to make my escape. But if I did that it would be over for me in L.A. As I got in the elevator I did breathing exercises to make myself feel calm. They worked, at least until the elevator door opened. I got out and shook as I walked toward room 317. A few seconds later I stood in front of his door, and lightly tapped on it. The door then slowly opened and a tall, slightly balding and slightly overweight man wearing Super Mario pajama bottoms and a Nike t-shirt. After he let me in he closed the door. He then pointed to an envelope on the desk. As I opened it to count the money he said, “Tori, you look even more beautiful than ...