Another Kind of Girl: Prologue

 

Prologue

 

Climbing out of the soft bed, I turned my gaze to look down at the young woman who was still sleeping away. There was no light coming from outside the window, except for a faint hint of street lights and other natural sources of light from the city outside. Her lips are swallowed and red from my kisses from the night before. Love nibbles and other forms of affection. Nothing that I actually did feel, but they were given just as I had promised her, and so many others before her. She had a dark complexion from tanning in tanning beds no doubt. Her makeup slightly smeared from not removing it before she drifted off to sleep. It was not that bad. I had seen a lot worse in the past, so it did not bother me at all. Her hair was long blonde, and travelled down her nude body, trailing down to her tiny waist. She slept as sound as a baby, as some would say, but this woman was far from a baby. She was an adult woman. She was my boss. Or at least the woman who hired me for the night. The night was now over, and once again I was free lance, until tomorrow night when another would take on my boss for the night.

That was how it was for the life of a Gigolo. And that was what I was. A male prostitute. However, I was not like the street walkers. I came from a higher class sort of life. A high class sex worker if you will. It has been that way since I was seventeen years old. Almost ten years. Nine years, four months to be exact. Say what you will about what I do with my life, but I run a completely legal life style. I live in New Work. I feel no shame for what I do. It is illegal yes, but I am making a living, and for the most part I enjoy my job.

And not for the reasons you assume. Yes I am a guy, but that does not mean I do what I do just because I like sex. No. I enjoy my job because of the acting. Act you ask? Its simple. You see, believe it for not, people who hire sex trade workers are looking for a little bit more than just sex. They are looking to fulfil a fantasy. And in order for that fantasy to come true, they will need to have someone who can play the part of their partner. They need to be able to make that fantasy come true. So I have many faces. I have many different personalities, and I am capable of pulling any of them out just with a request. You want a sexy businessman? I can do that. You want a sensitive man? Yeah I do that too. Bad boy? Oh please, I can do that in my sleep.

And what else is there to it? Well a final touch if you will. Every higher class Gigolo has a trade mark that will leave their client blown away. Mine is done long after the act is done and over with. Now I am good at making the woman relive the night long after I am gone. I leave a note.

As I reach into my coat pocket, discarded on the floor at this moment, I pick them up, and pull out a mini pen and finely printed letter paper. And that is when I really work my magic. With a quick thought and a few movements of my wrists, I begin to work my magic.

 

Dearest Angela,

I can’t begin to express what I felt with you last night. From the moment our eyes met, I felt the intensity in your eyes as you gazed upon me. They burned with the same beauty as that of a goddess. Who am I kidding? You are a goddess. I’m almost sure the gods sent you to toy with me and drive me made with every whisper, every touch and glance you sent my way. You let me serve you, an honour I feel to be oh so unworthy of. I thank you for that, Goddess Angela, for my dreams will always be filled with images of you. I pray that we shall meet again.

-William Richards

I am satisfied with my work, and so I fold the paper into two and lay it on my now empty pillow. When she would awaken she would read the letter and with any hope the client would call upon me for service once again. Not that I had any fears that this woman wouldn't. She called me at least once a month. I had gotten use to her, and I knew her very well. A woman with many unfulfilled sexual fantasies. That I was often called upon to help fill.

Picking up my clothing I hurried to dress, but as quietly as possible. I dressed quickly, and without another glance down at the sleeping woman, I leave the apartment, carefully closing the door behind me, happy when I hear the lock click close behind me. Heading down the elevator, and into the main lobby, I get a few glances from the early morning residents. They know me well enough, a few have probably even guessed at what I did for a living. People were not stupid here in New York. Passing by the late night watchman he waves to me as I leave. He knows me, and knows what I do. He is polite. I wave in return and head out into the cold morning air.

It is January, the new year had just rung in, and there are still decorations around. I never liked Christmas. Or the rush of people. Especially since it meant family. Which left my work a little high and dry. New Years usually brought in a few clients, but not many. I would be glad when these times would be done and over with. I didn't like not having clients. In a few days times this would pass, and I would be glad for that. I needed some thing to keep me busy. I didn't have any other hobbies. Except for human deviance psychology books. Research. Say what you will. It helps a lot in my line of work.

I pass by a few old ladies as they hurry off to where ever they are going. I do not pay any mind to them as soon as they pass, and I cut into an alley way and through two blocks until I land at a tall apartment building. Thirty stories high. One of the apartments are mine. I head inside, my doorman nodding and smiling at me as I pass. I nod, acknowledging him. I head onto the elevator again and then to the hallway. Glancing around I see my apartment door. Taking my key's from my coat pocket I place them in the keyhole and turn the key. Opening the door I step inside, removing the key at the same time. I glance around as I turn on the light. Closing the door, I lock it and step into my kitchen.

Immediately I open the refrigerator and look around for something to eat. I find a box of take-out Korean food. My favourite. Taking the chop-sticks that were still inside I take them into my hands, and I begin to eat the leftovers cold. I was hungry, and I didn't care much. Eating I took my time to relax my tired body. With this job I did not sleep much. Mostly during the day. And I don't know if you ever ever tried to sleep in New York during the day. It's hard. It is damn loud. I get use to it though, and I do tend to get a few hours sleep at work. Not much, but just enough to get me through the day. So I can't really complain.