Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 23956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
“So you help people achieve their dreams?” I ask, trying to justify my possible decision to sleep with him tonight by painting this in a positive light. He thinks for a moment. But it’s no use because Johnson is a pure capitalist.
“I like to think of it as making as much money as possible for the least amount of work. I let the little guys get their hands dirty. Meanwhile, I sit back in my office sipping scotch waiting for my check to cash.” He winks at me and swirls his drink before taking a sip. “If people benefit along the way that’s just a side effect,” he finishes, squashing my attempt to like him. What a greedy corporate bastard.
“Anyways, it’s all rather boring really. It’s simply a money machine and I love it. What about you? Do you do anything besides, well, this?” he asks me, gesturing vaguely with his free hand.
I perk up, sensing an opportunity. After all, Johnson’s a business consultant and I want to start my own business. It’s perfect, right? I bet he could give me some great pointers. I slide to the edge of my seat, suddenly eager to share my ideas with the oily man.
“Coincidentally, I’ve decided to open my own shop!” I exclaim. He cocks his head sideways, looking somewhat perplexed. I’m sure it’s not the answer he expected, but I bet he’ll be impressed once he hears my plan.
“I’m going to start my own escorting agency called Saucy Nights. Cute name, right? It’s perfect really, because I already know the industry inside out. I can build a high-end escorting service for New York City, one that offers far better benefits for both the clients and the girls.” To my disappointment, Johnson merely looks amused before patting his lips delicately with a napkin.
“That’s adorable babe. Saucy Nights, huh? Your ambition is cute.”
“I beg your pardon?!” I ask, stunned. How dare he call my plans cute? What a sexist statement. Where does he get the nerve?
The blond man merely shrugs while popping an olive in his mouth.
“You’ll never make it sweetheart,” he adds. “You’re an escort. Come on, what do you know about running a company? Trust me, it’s an entirely different world than the one you live in. You’re used to pretty things and little fripperies. You’d get eaten alive out there.” He goes on for a few more minutes, popping olives while casually insulting my intelligence. I feel my cheeks beginning to burn as he continues to degrade me. What the hell? I hold in my anger as long as I can, but finally it gets to be too much and I snap.
“Where do you think you get off telling me I won’t succeed? You have no idea what I am and am not capable of,” I say in a tight voice, refusing to meet his eyes.
I have to fight to keep my voice low enough to not draw attention to our table. Meanwhile, Johnson is clearly turned off by the way I have spoken to him, but he keeps his cool. He sets his drink down and leans back in his chair before shooting me another smooth look.
“Businesses need capital. Where would you get that?” he states in a cool tone. I feel a lump grow in my throat. That’s something that never occurred to me.
“I have some money saved up in the bank. I could put that into my business,” I reply, scrambling for words. My voice sounds rigid, almost frozen.
“You’re going to need more than the few thousand bucks you have stashed away in the bank.” His assumption about my financial well-being really floors me. Of course, he’s spot on, but it’s still incredibly insulting. “You’ll need a website, marketing, employees, insurance, and a photographer for headshots. That all costs money, little girl. Where are you going go get it? I assure you it costs far more than you could have saved up working as an escort,” he sneers in a denigrating tone.
That’s it. I’m through with this goddamn date. I don’t care if he reports me to the agency. I pull my napkin from my lap and angrily toss it on the table. Snatching my coat, I storm out of the restaurant without even so much as a good riddance to Johnson. I’ll probably lose my fee for the night, but it’s worth avoiding another minute sitting in the restaurant with that condescending prick.
Anger bubbles in my chest the entire walk home. I cannot stop thinking about the audacity of this man! How could he speak to me like that? Just because he hired me doesn’t me he can treat me like dog shit on the bottom of his shoe.
I’m furious. Until I step inside my apartment that is. As I retreat inside, I pull the door closed as quickly as I can behind me, trying to shut myself off to the world before the first tear drops. I collapse to the ground right there, leaning my back up against the door. Hand cupped over my mouth, I let myself gently cry.