Ann: The Married Years Ch. 57

Monique sensed her hesitation. "You don't have to tell me. I totally understand. I actually guard my real identity pretty closely. To the point that almost no one takes me seriously when I tell them I'm Monique Porter."

"I'm Anna. Anna Franklin," she said in a moment of compromise. A sense of relief came over her. Yes, she'd withheld her married name, but she'd shared the truth of who she was... the name that was on her birth certificate.

Monique smiled brightly, thrilled that Ann had shown the courage to reveal something so personal. "Pleased to meet you, Anna."

"Likewise. Just so you know, I don't share that with people I've been with professionally. Ever. Andre doesn't even know it." That was another true statement, as Alphonso didn't know her maiden name.

"You have my word I won't share that with anyone, Rachel. I promise."

"Ha. Thanks."

"So... what's with that? The Annabelle tattoo."

"You noticed that, did you?"

"Uh yeah. We had each other bent in a lot of compromising positions last night. I'd like to think I know every inch of that beautiful body of yours by now."

"I could say the same. I really had a good time. That doesn't always happen. In fact, it's pretty rare."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I have one job, Monique. That's to get my client off in whatever way gets them off, whether it's an orgasm or something else. My pleasure doesn't really factor into that equation. But sometimes, like with you, it ends up being magical."

"It was. Best five hundred dollars I've ever spent."

"You paid too much. I told you that."

"Knowing what I know now, I would've paid more," she winked. "Now tell me, what's up with your tattoos?"

Ann rolled to her right, holding her legs together, slighty bent at the knees with the outside of her left leg on top. She lifted her lower leg, showing off the intricate work that Raven had done. It thrilled her that Raven had been one of her clients as well, the connection between them electric. But so was the one she'd had with Monique, and it was getting stronger by the second. That didn't mean she wanted to tell her the real meaning behind them. Maintaining the persona she'd been cast in was more important at the moment.

"That's my stage name."

"What?"

"You said it yourself. I'm in the adult entertainment industry. I started out as a stripper."

The irony of that explanation made Ann shiver with excitement. In reality, she'd originally gotten that nickname from her good friend Dana. It was a fact that had become obscured over time and distance. Neil had latched onto it, using it as her moniker for whenever she'd play the role of his loving slave. It had turned into more than that over the years. While the need for discipline and even domination was strong within her, it wasn't just a part-time sexual role. It was part of who she was. That's why she got the tattoo in the first place. She considered it a brand, proving that Annabelle was always a part of her all the time.

But the name started out as a joke. Dana's husband Chad had frequented a strip club before they were married. Perhaps even a few times while they were engaged. There was a dancer there that closely resembled Ann. He tended to look at her body more than her facial features, but the girl could have been Ann's body double, and while her hair was different, he simply assumed she wore a wig while dancing to help hide her identity when in public.

When Dana introduced Ann to Chad, wanting her opinion on the man she was falling in love with, Chad freaked. He thought for certain that she was an erotic dancer that went by the name Belle. It all turned out to be a huge misunderstanding. Chad confessed to Dana that he liked strip clubs, and his reaction was because her friend was a dancer he recognized. He was worried Ann had recognized him at their dinner.

Dana told him that Ann was a manager of a successful women's clothing store at a local mall. He countered that she could have two jobs, and was simply moonlighting as a stripper.

Her response was to make Chad take her to the strip club in question to see Belle. She took it a step further, getting a private lap dance for the two of them to prove that the woman wasn't her friend. Chad had only watched her from distance, so the up close view helped alleviate his doubts. But Dana had to confess that she could totally understand how he could have been confused. Belle certainly looked a lot Ann.

Yet Ann continued to tease him about it for years afterward. She refused his attempts to get her to go to the club, wanting to prove to her that he wasn't crazy to think it was her. She countered that she was the stripper; mild-mannered successful store manager by day, high-energy erotic dancer by night. Her running joke with him was he'd never seen the two of them in the same place at the same time for a reason, and it would be a waste of her time to go to the strip club on her day off just to prove him wrong.

"You were right all along, Chad," she'd tease him often. "I'm Anna, and I'm Belle!"

With that, Dana christened her Annabelle. Whenever the subject of sex came up between the three, which was often, especially when Ann moved in with them after breaking up with her boyfriend, that was the name Dana used for her. In response, Ann began calling her friend DeeDee in those situations. The polite explanation revolved around her first and middle names; Dana Desiree. The ulterior reason was her double D breast size. Ann would tease her too, saying that she could easily come work at the strip club with her.

With Ann at one time teasing that she was leading a double life, and one of them involved her being a stripper, stating to Monique that Annabelle was her stage name appealed to her sense of whimsy. It tied into her real life, and that somehow mattered. It made it feel like she wasn't being anything but honest, which was the personal characteristic she held most sacred. That and loyalty.

Monique's interest was piqued. "So you started out dancing, and that turns into what you're doing now?"

"You can say it, Monique. I'm not ashamed of being a prostitute. I wish things were different. I wish I could be more independent."

"What's that mean?"

"Let me answer your first question before I get into that. It's not all that uncommon. I got into stripping because it was good money. I'm pretty...."

"You're fucking gorgeous," she interrupted. "You have amazing cheekbones. Is it your makeup? Do you contour?"

"No. I suck cock... properly."

"Ha! I'm being serious. You know, you're especially gorgeous when I look up from between your legs."

Ann actually blushed. "God... I needed to hear that! Thank you. So yeah, I'm fucking gorgeous. I'm athletic. I was on the dance and gymnastic teams in high school. But I hated it."

"Wait. You hated dance and gymnastics? That doesn't make any sense."

"No, I hated school. I loved sports. I ran track and was on the volleyball team too. And I don't mean to brag, but I was the best dancer on the squad. I just hated the structure of school. I wasn't a bad student. I just didn't care then, so I didn't apply myself. I didn't care until I was twenty-one, and I was still working a minimum wage job. I couldn't go back to school. I mean, I could have, but I wasn't going to get any financial help. My grades weren't good enough. I had to find a way to make better money, using what I had. I had a friend that was working at a club, and she hooked me up. I literally made more the first night I worked there than I had my last month on my other job.

"Wow."

"Yeah. I obviously didn't make that much every night, but I was good at it, and I made good money."

"So how did you transition from that into prostitution?"

"It was better money. I began working parties on the side. I didn't have to give any money to the club... strip clubs are like having a pimp. You have to give a cut to the house. Anyway, the first time you go into the back room of some guys house to give a blowjob to a groom at his bachelor's party, things change. The next bachelor's party you work, you don't bother to take him to the back room. You blow him right in front of all the other guys, because it creates a buzz. They get excited, they start to whip out their cocks. You tell em to whip out their wallets first. They do, and you suck off the entire room. The next bachelor's party you work, you end up in the back room again. You're on your back, fucking the groom for free, but saying anyone else that's willing to pay for pussy can have it. I still stripped, but I made a lot more money having sex when I worked at a party. Do that a couple of times and word spreads, and you end up getting hired for more and more parties. Eventually, you're doing that more than working the club. And in my case, the club I was working at found out what I was doing on the side so they let me go."

"So that forced your hand?"

"No. I don't blame them. They didn't want to gain a reputation of their strippers being prostitutes, although I know I wasn't the only one doing it. But I was the only one trying to drum up business at work. I also wasn't the only one that gave several blowjobs during private dances at the club. I gave way more than several if I'm being honest about it. But I got brazen. I knew I was on camera, but I didn't try to hide it like the other girls. I just didn't care."

"Why not?"

"I'll get to that. The bottom line is I could have gone to work for another club, but I chose not to. I liked the independence... working for myself."

"So how did you end up with Andre then?"

Ann held up her wrist, pointing to her other tattoo. "That's the part where I didn't care. He saved me."

"Yeah, you're going to have to be more specific than that. That is if you want to. You don't have to tell me any of this."

"Actually, I need to."

"You do?"

"I know I can trust you, Monique. And it'll be nice to get some of this off my conscience. I began working on my own... strictly parties. Really good money. But, I began partying at the parties. I was getting a lot of work, but with the wrong crowd. I started doing drugs. Well, a drug. I snorted coke. Long story short, I developed a habit that hooked me so deep, I got out of control. I was spending more money on blow than I was making. First I tried to supplement my income by sucking off guys at the club. I'd snort a couple of lines backstage in the dressing room, and then I'd go dance and have sex as a way to try and pay for my habit. Then I got fired. I didn't care... I threw myself into the party scene full bore. But the coke changed me. My outlook. Hell, I became a lousy fuck. I got high, and my disdain for fucking men became obvious."

"So, you're really a lesbian."

"A hundred percent. I fucked guys because it paid the bills. Anyway, I ended up owing my dealer five grand. I couldn't pay, and he called on my line of credit, so to speak. It was going to get ugly. Violent. Then, out of nowhere, Andre swooped in. I'd met him at a couple of parties, but I'd never been with him, you know. He was just a really nice guy. He actually seemed out of place there. Anyway, he paid the guy off, and put me in rehab. When I got out, we made a deal. I agreed to work for him as a way to pay him back. He agreed that I wouldn't have to fuck guys anymore. I've been in his stable ever since. I paid off my debt years ago, but... well...."

Ann let her voice trail off, letting Monique draw her own conclusions as to why she was still in the game. She had a reason at the ready. She just wanted her to ask. She wanted to feel their connection, and the story was helping.

Monique did ask. "So what does that number mean?"

"That's the day I got out of rehab. I'll be sober seven years come September fourteenth."

"Sober. I'm pretty sure I smelled pot in your room last night."

"Pot doesn't count in my eyes. It keeps me sane, it makes sex amazing, and as weird as it sounds, it's the key to me staying away from cocaine. I haven't even considered snorting for over five years. And Andre knows that. I'm tested for drugs and STDs every Wednesday. This tattoo is a reminder that I'm in a better place because of him."

"So, you like working for him."

"I did, until last night."

"What?"

"I told you a little while ago that I wished I could be more independent. You asked what I meant. Last night, I saw a different side of doing what I do. I saw what it might like to be on my own again, but in a better environment, and in control of my life. Look at me, Monique. Normally I'd be in my apartment right now, killing time before I have to put on a slutty outfit and go trolling for tricks. Instead, I'm sitting by a pool at a nice hotel, having a conversation with a gorgeous babe I was having incredible sex with like eight hours ago. That doesn't happen in my world."

"I'm gorgeous too?" she smiled.

Ann grinned. "You know you are. And I'd love it if you were the kind of client that I could service exclusively. Unfortunately I can't rule out men totally. I'm always going to have to suck a lot of cock to make up for not fucking them. That's my choice, and I accept it. But there's a lot less chance of picking up women at a bar or in a mall, or at a grocery store, or wherever. I look for work in public places now. It's actually easier and there's less chance of getting pinched by a cop. I stopped working street corners and alleys years ago. I actually thought I'd upgraded until last night."

"It was that different, huh."

"I normally have sex in rooms that rent by the hour, Monique. I'm in a suite this weekend. The people I've been with so far are more refined, for the lack of a better way to say it.

They're certainly more polite and appreciative. And I'm finding out... they're willing to pay more. I feel like I've been missing out."

"So, you like what you do. Just not how you're doing it."

"I love sex, Monique. Especially with hot, excitable women like yourself. But I'm thirty-four. Giving blowjobs in flea bag motels isn't exactly a retirement plan. Last night, I saw myself as an escort. Someone that's paid for more than just sex. At the very least, if I could work every weekend in a place like this with Andre, I'd jump at the chance. But I'd prefer to do it alone. I owed him for saving me, and getting me on a better path. I'm beyond grateful for that. But I've paid him back tenfold since then. It would be nice to keep all the money I earn for a change."

"Do you think you can do it?"

"I dunno. I'd need to do what I did when I first started working parties... without the cocaine of course."

"What do you mean?"

"In order to make a clean break from Andre, I'd have to make sure I'm stable first. I'd have to have a reputation built up with some reputable clients. This isn't something I can advertise. Any success I hope to have would come from word of mouth, just like it did when I started stripping on the side. I can't just leave him and hope I make it. I'd have to know, because there'd be no going back."

"Okay. When you're ready to start on that path, let me know. I'm in."

"You're in what?"

"Let's just say that with what I do, there are a lot of people... a lot of women I've become acquainted with over the years that would love to pay for your service."

"Are you serious?" Ann asked excitedly, unsure why. She wasn't really a prostitute. Or one hundred percent lesbian like she'd professed. She was a happily married bisexual mother, enjoying a sexual fantasy weekend her loving husband had surprised her with. Yet she was so into her character that the prospect of transforming herself into an escort with Monique's support seemed like a real lifeline. One that she considered briefly.

It wasn't until she looked at the tattoo on her foot again that she came back to reality. She wasn't sure how to extricate herself from the story she'd woven. Frankly, she wasn't going to worry about it at the moment. Instead she simply checked herself and moved forward.

"That's something to think about. Let me get through this weekend. I need to see this through. I'm a long way off from being able to make that happen, and I've got to make sure I don't let Andre down."

Monique reached into her purse and pulled out a business card. "My contact info is on there. The bottom number is my personal cellular phone. Like I said, whenever you're ready, I'd love to help."

Ann stood, putting the card in her bag. "Thanks Monique. That means a lot."

"Are you leaving?"

"Uh... no. I've just got a schedule I need to keep. I'm going to soak in the jacuzzi for a half-hour, then do a couple of cool down laps before I head to my room. I've got the hotel masseuse coming to my room at 1:30. I need to make sure I'm in shape for tonight."

"The hotel has a masseuse?"

"Yeah. She's hot too," she winked. "Want me to try and hook you up?"

"Yeah. I'm in room 323. See if she can come down when she's done with you."

"Okay. Her name is Janet. You'll love her."

"So... jacuzzi, eh?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Mind if I join you?" she asked, biting the corner of her bottom lip.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Monique and Ann had been soaking in the hot tub for ten minutes, making small talk. Oddly, they were sitting beside each other instead of across, much like they had on their loungers.

The conversation was light, and had shied away from sex. Ann had opened up about her job earlier, so to speak, and she was questioning Monique about hers. She'd learned a great deal about weather forecasting, almost as if Monique was practicing the speech she was going to be giving later that evening at the conference. But things turned a bit when Ann asked her a more personal question.

"Monique, what did you mean when you said you don't care anymore?"

"What?"

"I'd said that to, about being callous doing cocaine and taking ridiculous risks. I said I got to a point where I didn't care. Earlier you said that you didn't care anymore."

"I did?"

"You said you didn't care, and that you don't respect yourself. And then you said a little after that you're trying to discover who you want to be. What's going on?"

"Wow. You're a good listener."

"It's part of my job."

"You're not on the job right now, Rachel."

"It's also part of being a friend," she replied, her eyes narrowing a bit, her expression sincere.

"Wh... why do I believe you mean that?"

"Because it's true," she nodded.

"Fair enough, but why do you want to know?"

"Because when I didn't care, I got careless, and it nearly cost me everything. I understand you're not happy. I can feel it. I want you to be happy, more than anything. But I also want you to be sure. Do you think your career can handle this?"

"This? What 'this' are you talking about?"

"You, coming out of the closet."

Monique's hand flew over open mouth, the shock of Ann knowing what was on her heart making that heart rate jump.

"How? How did you know?"

"That you're gay?"

"Yes?"

"Well I could just say it was the way you asked if I'm gay this morning, but that would be a cop out. I knew last night. I'm not sure if you remember, but we had sex. Incredible sex. So incredible that there's no way you're a novice, or just bi-curious. You're a pro," she winked.

"That obvious, huh?"

"I've been with enough women to know the difference. Why do you think I came so hard? Or so many times? I told you, I rarely get to cum. You had me creaming from the moment you dipped your tongue inside me."

"I can say the same about you. I'm not sure about you thinking that I'm pro material. I haven't been with a woman in forever. Actually, I've been dating a guy for a few years now. And by dating I mean I'm living with him."

"So, you're bisexual?"

"By definition, yes."

"Okay. I want to change my answer."