A New Career, An Old Profession

Intro:

Thanks for giving my story a try. This is my first ever published work and I hope you enjoy it; it is the work of a couple of years, off and on and it's taken some time to get enough courage to publish it here. You'll get to know Mel, a hardworking, tough young woman who is driven to get what she needs and embarks on a career in the world's oldest profession. Be warned, you'll learn a few secrets of the trade in this story, hear about some of the more memorable events and clients as she finds her way through her new choice of career. In later chapters, there is Mel's entanglement with a notorious crime family and some good, old fashioned sex quite often. This is a multiple chapter story and I intend to keep coming back to it in the future.

Chapter 1 -- The World's Oldest Profession

So, hey there. I'm Mel, it's nice to meet you and I'm touched that you want to hear my story. It's been quite a journey for me over the last couple of years, but I'm totally excited to share it with you. Maybe you're just curious to learn how a normal girl like me made a career from being an escort, or maybe you feel like you want to try a career change yourself? Whoever you are, and wherever you're from, you are very welcome here.

I'm 26 years old and I live in the great city of Chicago, home for my entire life. My family are working class and we grew up poor, not on the breadline or nothing but we got by. I worked hard and I've got my own apartment now, above a store in Woodlawn and if you ask my neighbours or friends, they'll tell you that I work as an assistant for a TV advertising company which means odd working hours and time away from home. If you saw me, I fit that profile. I'm only 5'6 tall, I dress in smart, casual clothes most of the time, have shoulder length, scruffy blonde hair and big green eyes. I wear glasses most of the time. But most of that is just a cover. For the last couple of years, I've been an escort, hooker, call girl, prostitute, whatever you want to call it. I get paid for sex. Now, I work for a large and, shall we say, family firm, in Chicago as a 'professional entertainer' but I took small steps into the business and found out, to my surprise, that I'm really good at it.

If you managed to make it into the spare bedroom in my apartment, my true occupation would become pretty obvious. There are drawers of lingerie, dozens of pairs of shoes and boots with high, and higher heels. Then there is the rack of tiny dresses and of course, a few bottles of massage oil, bulk boxes of lubricant and condoms and even a shoulder bag containing a variety of vibrators, dildos and butt plugs amongst other fun and multi-coloured things.

My cover story used to be true, that was me. I got a job at 19 and worked my way up. I worked hard and got my own place and life seemed great; I was even looking forward to a promotion. But then, disaster struck when the company got bought by some large corporation and they let loads of us go, almost overnight. I tried in vain for months to find a new job, but things got real bad, and I was too ashamed to tell anyone that I was going to lose my apartment anytime soon and couldn't pay all the bills. I wasn't in a relationship and so there was no one to support me. I mean, it was a really crappy time, and I was miserable. By the way, I didn't wake up one morning and think, I know, I'll be a hooker! I mean, it never crossed my mind and anyway, I didn't have a huge amount of sexual experience, just a few boyfriends, a couple of girlfriends and a few drunken one-night stands along the way.

How all this really started was a documentary on TV. I'd been out of work for four months and, at the time was living on my credit cards. I'd started drinking a little more than I should by now, to try and make myself feel better and was most of the way through a bottle of white wine, way past midnight and started watching a show about a retired high-class escort and how much money she made in her career. She talked about how any woman could do it if they really wanted to and I started to think about what it would be like to have random guys fuck you for money. It sounded pretty awful to me, and I put the thought of my head quickly, I wasn't actually considering it even for a second or anything, but by the next day the story of the escort was right back, front and centre. Things were pretty bleak for me, and I found myself actually considering it as a way out of my current mess and I thought logically, could I do this, for a short time, maybe, just a few guys and then I'd have some cash to keep me going until I got a proper job? Of course, I didn't know what the implications of that would be. I laughed at myself for having such a ridiculous thought and moved on with my day.

Late that night, again, I found myself thinking about the escort in the documentary and I couldn't help thinking about prostitution in general and how some women could do it, not by necessity but by choice. The part of the documentary that fascinated me most was that my assumption had been that women only did that kind of thing as a last resort, and that's true, many do, but not all, it seemed. Part of it disgusted me and yet, it did seem like a viable option and, it solved my immediate problem of having no money. The thought just wouldn't go away, and I did what I always did when I was unsure of what to do. I researched. That night, I sat with another bottle of wine, until the early hours, at the computer and found loads of escort sites, I looked at what services they offered and what they charged. I figured, I could earn $150 an hour, just if I was prepared to suck a guy off or let him fuck me. It wasn't like I'd need to enjoy it or anything. That bugged me though, I would have no choice in the guy, I mean, if a sweaty old man turned up, you couldn't say no, could you?

Next, I found total gem of a site, it was an online guide to starting work as a call girl. It was written by a woman with years at the job and it was great, all her experience and advice. There was so much that I hadn't even thought of. As I climbed into bed, way past 3am, a plan formed in my head. I decided that I could test the water, and actually prepare myself to try it, by getting all the practical matters sorted without actually doing anything or crossing a line and then I could see how I felt. I wouldn't be committed but it may give me an insight into the mindset.

The next day, I set about the first task. If I did this, I would need somewhere to do it. I wouldn't want strange men in my own bed. I cleared out my spare bedroom and cleaned it thoroughly. I removed almost all the furniture apart from the double bed, the nightstands, a chair and a small waste bin and I decorated the room with some coloured string lights, which I pinned around the top of the wall. According to the guide, it should be basic, clean and comfortable. The work in the room took all day and then I cleaned my whole apartment. Actually, having something to do, no matter how odd, gave me energy. The next part of my preparation was way more personal. There were steps I had to take and over the next few days, I got to the doctor's office and obtained a supply of birth control pills, my first time ever using them. Of course, condoms are standard issue for this kind of thing, but this was a backup and the escort who'd written the guide was very clear about that, which made perfect sense, a single accident could be life changing! Next, the issue to deal with was personal, and, well, embarrassing. In particular, should I go through with this, well, how can I put this, I hadn't had a date in some time and my pubic hair was a mess. I looked a loads of online profiles of hookers and pornstars and there was so much choice. Usually, I went for a neat, short, naturally shaped triangle but decided that a Brazilian was for me, for some reason, it felt important to change my style down there and it seemed to work for this endeavour and with a little luck, the spa had an opening later that day and by supper time, I had a neatly trimmed stripe of hair where my previous triangle had been. It actually felt strange to look at myself in the mirror, but it suited me, and felt kinda sexy.

That night, I found myself standing in front of the mirror naked. I wondered if guys would want to fuck me at all, or, if I ended up doing this, would I even get any clients, I mean, I didn't have huge breasts, but I was cute I suppose. While I was comfortable with my body and sexuality, and felt strong as a woman, I was never sexually promiscuous. I got out all of my underwear and tried it all on. I had nothing that was really classy, sexy or really slutty like the women online had and so my next trip, the following day was to the mall, and I came back with three matching thong and bra sets, some hold up stockings and a pair of strappy black heels. I tried them on in front of the mirror and I suddenly felt different. I'd never worn anything like this, and I actually looked sexy, I liked it and felt good. I walked into the spare room and stared at the bed and let my mind wander and soon, I was starting to actually feel turned on, for the first time in weeks. It wasn't the thought of the sex with strange men so much as the feeling of having a secret life, my own thing, having guys lust after me. I'd never thought of myself that way before and it was liberating in that moment, and it made me feel good.

Half an hour later and I'd broken in the new thong by cumming in it after a frantic time alone in the spare room, using my fingers to work on my clit until I was in a frenzy and, throwing myself around the bed like a possessed animal. While I was masturbating, I thought of the nameless men lining up to fuck me and resolved to create a profile on one of the sites as soon as I was finished but, in the post orgasm glow, I decided that it wasn't the best moment to make life changing decisions and promised myself not to rush into anything.

Something had to be done that I knew would be difficult but necessary. I needed photos. I didn't like seeing myself in pictures and, for these, I would blur my face but if I had an online profile, I'd need pictures. Deciding not to have any fully nude, at least to start with, I showered, fixed my hair and dressed in the set of white lingerie and spent a tricky hour with my cell on a small tripod, trying to get some decent pictures of myself in provocative poses. Ending up with well over a hundred images, the rest of the evening was taken up with editing them and discarding the useless ones.

The next day, over my morning coffee, I realised that there was no escaping it, I was, pretty much ready, if I wanted to do this but there were still a couple of practical issues to take care of that I'd learned from the online article. It was a sunny day and so, I headed downtown.

First on the list was a burner phone and I picked up a good deal. It would have been stupid to use my own cell and publish the number. If I did this, I hoped I wouldn't feel ashamed, but I also didn't want my family and friends finding out. Next, was a little more embarrassing. I headed into a drug store and bought a couple of bottles of lube. It took me ages to pluck up the courage to head to the checkout. The woman didn't even look up as she scanned the clear bottles which I quickly put in my bag. Heading further down the street, I needed another drug store, this time to buy condoms. My embarrassment had prevented me from buying condoms and lube at the same time. I figured that I'd have to overcome this feeling of this became my career. Finding a store, I bought a box of 12. This was a first for me, I had never had sex without a condom but never bought one, I always relied on the guys for that. My shopping trip saw me buy new towels, new bed sheets and storage boxes, all of which all but maxed out one of my credit cards.

That night, I sat on the bed in the spare room, my legs folded, the coloured lights looked fun, and I surveyed the items I'd bought which I'd spread out on the bed. My underwear, the condoms, the lube, baby wipes and a pile of towels. There were clean sheets and new plastic boxes to store them under the bed. It was a little sobering, and even, frightening, to be sitting in my own apartment surrounded by the tools of the trade of a hooker. I tidied the items away, put the lingerie in my bedroom closet and the condoms, lube and wipes in the nightstand. I changed the sheets on the bed and placed the new ones in a box and slid under the bed and the old ones went in the laundry bag. I folded a new, white towel and placed it on the nightstand on the far side of the bed and looked at the room. If I was really going to do this, the room was ready.

A few days passed and I did nothing more about my potential new career, but truthfully, little else was on my mind but on Friday morning, I swallowed a birth control pill and opened a letter which was a final demand for my electricity supply. I had really come to the end of my savings; my cards were almost all maxed out and I'd tried so hard to find a job without any success. I made a coffee and opened up the computer. I read the guide again then clicked on the bookmark for the escort advertising site which I'd found that had a large number of girls in Chicago. I found out that when I set up a profile, it would take 3-4 hours to become active and that I could show on the site if I was working, or not. Coloured bars on the profile page showed red or green depending on the status. I decided to make my profile and then I still activate it and not have it live for people to see.

If you've ever filled in an online dating profile and found it hard and awkward, then this would be off the scale! It was beyond strange writing about myself in this way as I filled in the profile information. Giving myself the working name of Cara, I kept it short and sweet, went on about how cute and funny I am, and then came the section of tick boxes where I stated my services. I decided to keep it short too and opted for offering massage, hand jobs, blow jobs, vaginal penetration with a condom and ticked the boxes, I had to also enter some options about where a guy could cum and I ticked, cum in mouth, cum in face, cum on tits, cum on body and then checked the option that said, 'any internal ejaculation in condom' and wondered why that was even an option. It made my mind spin as I ticked the list, and I imagined all that actually happening to me...which was part disgusting and part interesting. I mean, I'd seen it in porn films but no guy I'd been with had ever chosen to ejaculate on my breasts! Referring to the guide, and what other local girls offered, I entered my usual working hours of 12 noon to 1am and then set my prices, of $100 dollars for thirty minutes, or $180 for an hour. I stated that I would entertain guests at my place but that I wouldn't visit them. Once my phone number and email were in place, I edited 6 pictures to blur my face and uploaded them.

After a read through, I clicked the yellow 'activate' button and sat back in my chair.

I didn't leave the computer other than to fetch more coffee and I read in detail the part of the guide about actually dealing with a client. The idea was to relax him and arouse him, find out what he needed and deliver that efficiently, so he wasn't with you longer than needed but left fully satisfied. The escort, Alison, also gave tips on how to make the guy erect, how to tell when he was about to cum and even how to move your hips when he was fucking you. After hours of reading and feelings that swung from disgust to confidence and back again, I decided to take a long shower and later that afternoon, I walked back into my living room, wrapped in my towel and sat back in front of the computer. My new phone was to the left and it was flashing a green light and I looked at it, surprised to see a message. It was from the escort site, asking me to confirm my phone number by entering a code. I did that and received some emails saying that my pictures were approved and that my identity was confirmed.

I went to my room and pulled on my jogging bottoms and my tee and went back to the table. In that time, there was an email from the escort site. My profile was approved. Would I like to activate it?

'Oh, God!' I thought to myself. 'Do I?' It was one of those moments where I had a gut feeling that if I didn't do it, I never would. My finger hovered over the mousepad, and I looked over at the spare room door and then at the pile of bills on the kitchen counter. I did the only thing I felt like I could and clicked, 'yes'. Within seconds, my profile page displayed a green bar at the top. I figured it would be days before anyone looked at it in any case and even then, I wasn't committed to doing anything.

A couple of hours later, out of curiosity, I looked at the bottom of my page to see that it had already received 23 views. Wow, I thought, lots of horny men in Chicago! Then, I got my first message on the site. I could barely bring myself to open it, but I did, and I got my first insight into a punter, or, more precisely, a timewaster as I would later term them. I was more than a little shocked. I mean, I wasn't expecting romance, or to be asked on a date, I wasn't naive or stupid, but this message read. 'Will u let me fuk ur ass for xtra 10?' Not Even Full Words! My reply was 2 words long 'No, Thanks'. I thought that would be the end of the convo but no, he replied to me with a delightful, 'fk u.' I didn't reply to 'BgCok24' again.

I'd been curled up on my sofa watching a movie and just got up to head for bed when a loud noise bleeping noise made me jump out of my skin. I looked around and saw my new phone lit up with an SMS. Firstly, I thought it would be some kind of confirmation message from the site but when I read it, I quickly sat back down.

'Hey Cara. Saw your ad. I'm in need of a meet if ur free. Maybe just 30 mins. Quick sex OK?'

I stared at the phone. What the fuck would I do now? Shit, shit, shit, I thought. I had to reply with something. I'd gone through all this time, two weeks of work, spent hundreds of dollars that I couldn't afford and preparation, but I'd forgotten to prepare myself mentally for this moment. Suddenly, this was all very real. If I declined, I'd never actually know if I could do this. I could do it, of course I could, it's just sex and I have had lots of sex before. I could use the money. Fuck it, I thought, just do it, try it, at least once.

I typed a reply. 'Hey there. I'm free, 30 mins OK, sex no problem, $100. I'm in Woodlawn, when u want 2 meet?' I clicked send and suddenly felt excited, rather than terrified as I should have been.

I got a response in a few minutes. '11pm OK?'

I looked at the top, right hand side of the phone. It was 10:18pm. I could get ready in that time surely.

'Sure, 11pm fine. Come to 1218 Fairway, appt 2.'

I couldn't believe it. I'd just agreed to be paid by a stranger for sex. I would have felt scared, but I suddenly realised that I had no time. Rushing to the bedroom, I fixed my hair and makeup and sprayed on some scent. Even that had taken 20 minutes and it was almost 10:45pm. I picked out the plainest black thong, sheer black hold ups and the matching bra set and got dressed. Even managing to get the heels on quickly, I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked for ages but didn't take it in. Then I remembered to check the spare room and I rushed in and switched on the lights. Then, just as I was about to try and relax and wait for the guy to show, I remembered a tip from Allison in her guide site. It brought home the reality of what was about to happen. I went to the nightstand, fetched the bottle of lube that was hidden away in there and squirted a small amount on my fingers. Pulling my thong to one side with the other hand, I pressed the lube into my pussy and smeared it around inside, then slid my thong back into place. If the man touched me there, he'd think I was wet for him and, if he entered too fast, I would be prepared. I put the lube back, went to the bathroom and washed my hands. It was 10:58pm.