When Marge Kantor at the Graduate Center invited me to attend a reception for Nancy Chu, I was thrilled.
"Sharon," she said, "I know how hard you've been trying to sell pieces to newspapers and magazines. It's tough for an aspiring writer to get her foot in the door. I've known Nancy for a long time, even before she became famous. She was one of my brightest students but who would have thought she'd write a best-seller about her life as a call girl? I'll ask her to give you an interview, one you can use for an article."
I was grateful for Marge's offer and secretly excited by it. Not only was I having trouble placing my work, but my love life had evaporated. Tommy left town for a better job, so I was horny, as well as unsuccessful in my chosen field. I really wanted that damn interview.
The day of the reception I was nervous as hell. In the mirror I saw a cute and shapely college girl, but not an accomplished writer. 'No way Nancy will be impressed', I thought. 'Fuck it - I'll do the damn interview anyway.'
Nancy caused quite a stir when she arrived. She was taller than I'd expected, dressed in an outfit that showed off her curves and long legs. Rather than matching my image of a whore, she was a beautiful upscale woman, one I could easily imagine on the arm of a wealthy man. After she'd been in the room for a while, I saw Marge go over and talk to her. At one point in their conversation, Marge pointed to me. I felt stupid and wished I hadn't come. Why the hell would she want to talk to a kid like me?
Finally, Marge led Nancy over to where I was standing and introduced me as one of her rising stars. Then Marge stepped away and left us alone.
Nancy obviously knew how embarrassed I felt and was kind enough to ask me how the writing career was going.
"Not too well," I replied. "It's hard to start out as a writer. There are lots of beginners out there, all trying to get a break."
She laughed, "Tell me about it. The only way I could sell stuff was when I submitted material about my life as a call girl. Before that, my submissions went into a wastebasket, I'm sure."
"Can I ask you personal questions?"
"Of course. I was explicit in my biography and I've been on TV, talking about providing sex for money. Well... maybe not very explicit."
"What does that mean?"
"I don't use the word 'fuck' in interviews and don't discuss my cunt. I talk about 'making love', and how different clients behave during sex. That's titillating enough for public consumption. I mention blow jobs in my novel, but not in live interviews. The networks don't permit such language. The assholes are afraid of losing their licenses!"
She glanced at her wristwatch, saying, "Sorry...I'm on a tight schedule. Ask your questions."
I was staring at her cleavage. She exuded sex. Then our eyes met - she knew exactly how excited I was getting, the bitch! Maybe she had a sixth sense when it come to sex. Was she always like that, or had she developed it over time? Maybe that was a good question for the interview, but I wanted to cover other things first.
"Your current clients - are you still a call girl, or have you moved on to other things?"
She smiled, "Do you think I'm too old to attract men?"
My face flamed, "I..I didn't mean that. You're a beautiful woman. But, after making so much money doing stuff like a book and TV interviews, do you have to fuck guys for money?"
Right after I said that, I wondered if she would be pissed off at the question. But she answered with no hesitation, "My dear, I don't fuck just for money. I never did. But, generally speaking, men of power and means are more interesting than the average guy on the street. And money is important, don't you agree?"
Now she seemed to be interviewing me. How did she do that?
"I think money is important, but not the most important thing."
That sounded stupid, even to me. But she'd put me off my plan, What the hell else had I meant to ask? Nancy looked at her watch again. It was time to continue, or else I had to walk away with not enough for an article.
The question came out of my depths, not planned in any way.
"Have you ever done women?"
She looked more closely at me, as if she saw how wet I was.
"Are you asking me if I service women? If I lick their cunts until they squeal and squirm, if can I capture a clit between my teeth and tease it with my tongue until it throbs like a cock? Yes, I've done women, some famous ones you've heard of, and others who aren't famous. They are quite rich and pay well. From time to time, I still take women, if they please me. You mustn't use that in your interview. If you do, I'll have your head. Understand?"
I was stunned by her vehemence and passion, more than I'd expected in an interview. She was a hot woman, like no other I'd ever met!
"Yes, I understand. What you just said about other women won't be in my article...but I want to ask you a related question, if I may?"
"How much do you charge your female clients?" As I said that, I blushed again. Was I out of my fucking mind?
After a long pause, Nancy smiled and said, "I'm much too expensive for you. Too bad, I find you attractive, and I think you're capable of giving me what I want in return. I like to have a woman eat my pussy, run her lips over my thighs, suck on my nipples, all sorts of things. It would be a marvelous experience for both of us."
I was stunned at her statement, suddenly swimming between my legs.
Not knowing what else to say, I blurted, "I don't have much money; I'm just starting out."
Marge approached and told us it was time to terminate the interview, that I'd taken enough of our honored guest's time.
Nancy gave me a long look, dark eyes traveling the length of my body. Then she reached into her purse, wrote something on a card, and handed it to me, "This is my private number. Call me, I'll work out a scholarship for you."