Laura Became an Escort

She couldn't catch her breath. The very act of breathing sent waves of pain throughout her body.

Jason lifted himself from her and sat on the bed. Laura curled into a ball on the floor. Tears filled her eyes and wet her cheeks. Her ribs hurt too much to sob.

"Fucking dirty whore. The room is paid through the night. I had really hoped to get a chance to use you again. Your tits are amazing but your ass was so tight, I think you drained me completely. Really milked it from my balls."

Jason stood from the bed, arranged himself, put on his coat and walked from the room, closing the door behind him.

Laura just laid on the floor, her mind reeling, trying to understand what had just happened. Rape. She was just raped. How could this have happened? It makes no sense. Her clients were vetted. Surely he knows he can't get away with this. But of course, no one believes a sex worker can be raped. Money was exchanged for sex. The violence? Hadn't she allowed clients to spank her in the past? Allowed clients to slap her?

She couldn't move. She needed to get to the hospital. She was certain her ribs were broken. She probed her head gently and felt the knot where Jason had hit her. She didn't feel blood, though. How could so much go wrong?

Michael turned off the TV and picked up the empty glass on the side table next to him to take to the kitchen. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It wasn't late, but the silence and the darkness made it feel late. Just 8:30 and he was pensive. Nothing on TV to watch. He contemplated surfing the web a bit but he knew that would lead to porn and masturbation and thoughts of his daughter. He started going into a shame spiral when his phone rang. He glanced at it and smiled. Laura.

"Hey, beautiful...," he couldn't contain his smile but it faded quickly the moment he heard her voice.

"D-dad? Dad," Laura's voice was broken, her breathing ragged. "I need help."

There was nothing to say. The hospital was a bureaucratic nightmare followed by the police, doing what police do, asking questions, filing paperwork, making empty promises.

Michael walked Laura to her apartment, opened the door for her, and said very little. They both had no words. Laura felt crushed by this. She couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking, how he had to come face to face with one of the worst aspects of her chosen profession. She had other people she could have called. Other women she worked with, but in those long painful moments on the floor of that hotel room, she only wanted one person. And he came to her. No hesitation, no questions.

At no point in time did he say or act like she somehow deserved this. Yet he was silent. Distant.

Laura walked to her room and began to remove her clothes. She had been examined by doctors and nurses, the police had pictures taken of her injuries. Her nudity at this moment had become so far removed from sex that stripping off her clothers was an almost meaningless act. She heard Michael go into the kitchen.

Fully naked standing in front of the mirror, her body was tragically different. Her ribs had been fractured. A bruise on her forehead and some bruising on her buttocks and thighs were the physical reminders of what had happened.

"Laura?" Mike asked as he came towards her room. "Oh, oh, I'm sorry...," he then stammered as he approached the door and saw her standing naked in front of her mirror. He saw the bandages wrapped around her, supporting her fractured ribs. He saw the yellowed skin at the edges of the bruising.

Laura didn't react but looked up at the mirror to see him averting his gaze from her damaged body. He held a mug in his hand. Steam wafting from it carrying the faint smell of peppermint.

It still hurt so much to breathe or move, but she had to do both. She turned slightly to look at her dad more directly. "It's okay, dad," she said, her voice almost a whisper.

"I brought you some tea," he offered the mug out to her for a moment and the just moved to set it on her nightstand. He had never been in her apartment before. It was weird. Familiar yet foreign. He stood next to her bed and looked back over to her. His shame was intense. He had fucked her once. He had treated her like a sexual object. He was no better than the man who did this to her, who violated her.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" he asked as he struggled to understand what his role was in this moment.

Laura sensed his agitation and thought he was desperate to flee. To leave his whoring daughter to lick her wounds and to abandon her to her fate. She didn't hold it against him. Why would he want to bear witness to her brokenness?

"I'm fine, dad. Could you hand me my robe? Maybe help me put it on? I don't have a lot of movement."

Michael eagerly grabbed for her robe. He needed a purpose. He needed something to do and this was something he was more than capable of. He shook it out a bit and arranged the sleeves. As he approached his daughter, he couldn't help but be very aware of her naked body. A body he adored. A body he spent so much time imagining and fantasizing about. Touching her and kissing her, following all her gentle curves. And now when his hand touched the skin of her arm as she put it through the sleeve of the robe, it wasn't an electric thrill, it was an anvil of shame. "Sorry," he muttered. All he could imagine was how vile his touch must be to her at this moment.

She said nothing and loosely tied the belt at her waist. "Thanks."

"Anything else," he said, taking a few steps back trying not to crowd her.

Laura felt the space between them grow and it wounded her more. She felt he didn't even want to touch her, to be near her. That he was just going through the motions of caring for her because of a sense of obligation. He was a good person, but as a good person, how could he not be disgusted by her right now?

"I... I'm okay, Dad. I just, you know, should just sleep, I think."

"Can you? Sleep? Should I get you something to help? Sleep?" His words were muddled. He couldn't imagine how she could sleep at this moment.

Laura shook her head slowly and eased herself onto the bed. "I'm so tired. So done with this day."

Michael stood there for what seemed like hours before walking out of the bedroom and closing the door slightly.

Laura saw her dad wheel about and flee her bedroom, trying to close the door to shut her out of his life. There were no tears. The damage had been done. There was no recovery from this kind of harm. She did sip her tea and let the warmth of the mug radiate into her hands, up her arms before setting it down and laying on top of her covers.

She was certain she heard her dad open and close the front door. Leaving her, ashamed of her. Putting her head to her soft pillow and closing her eyes was all she needed to drift off to sleep.

Michael stood outside her bedroom trying not to cry. The one thing he didn't deserve right now was pity, even self pity. His daughter had been attacked. Whatever else may have happened between them, that was the reality right now. And if he can separate himself from the games they had been playing and focus on what was important, he could do the right thing for her.

He looked around her apartment taking it all in. She decorated in muted colors, ambient lighting, bright splashes of energetic colors appeared in some of the art on her walls, some prints, some real paintings. Her furniture was solid. Not fancy, not antique, but durable and pragmatic.

He picked up some of the random clutter and put it in the trash. The trashcan wasn't full but his nervous energy needed an outlet. He pulled out the trash, tied it up and took it outside. Before leaving the apartment he checked to make sure he wouldn't lock himself out and wandered the hall a bit looking for a trashroom, trash chute, something to indicate where the trash should go. He finally found a back stairwell that led down and into a maintenance room with a dumpster.

He tossed the half empty bag into the dumpster and returned to his daughter's apartment.

It was quiet and when he peeked into her room, she was sound asleep. The dim nightstand light was still on and he questioned whether he should turn it off or not. He thought she'd sleep better with it off so crept in and hit the switch to darken the room. He then crept back out, pulled the door closed but did not shut it.

He kicked off his shoes and laid back on the couch. His mind played out fantasies of finding the man who did this and beating him senseless. He knew it was a fantasy. Michael just wasn't that kind of guy which at any other time in his life he'd be okay with. Right now, it was just more shame.

He knew sleep would not be coming for him tonight so he turned on the TV, muted it, found a movie channel and tried his best to block out all the voices in his head.

After watching Another 48 Hours and part of Turner and Hooch, he felt mostly braindead which when he heard something from Laura's room made him question if he heard anything at all.

She was saying something. He got up and approached the door. He could hear her mumbling. Then there was some thrashing. Nothing violent, just small jerky motions. He walked over to her side of the bed and knelt down. Her hands were balled into fists and he could see her pillow was wet with tears.

"Laura?" Michael said gently. "Laura? Honey, Laura, you are dreaming."

She jerked about a bit and let out a muffled gasp before her eyes flew open.

She had no idea what she was dreaming about. It wasn't good. She knew that. Those feelings of being abandoned, of being alone in the dark. Her breathing was ragged like she couldn't catch her breath. Then she heard his voice, "Laura?"

She turned her head and looked into her father's face. He knelt next to her and his face was nothing but concern. "Dad?"

"Yes, sweetie, yes, I"m here."

"I thought you left," she said, her mouth dry, her eyes still adjusting to being open.

"No, honey, no. I wouldn't leave you. Never. Even if you wanted me gone, I'd be close by. I know I messed up with you. I know you probably hate me for what we've done. But I love you, I care for you, and if you don't want me to help you through this then I will find someone for you."

His words were so reassuring. She felt his care and concern. These were not the words of obligation but the words of love. Words of devotion.

"Please don't leave me, okay? I know you are ashamed of me..."

"Ashamed? Shhh... Laura, shhhh, no. We can talk tomorrow. Rest now, okay?"

Laura reached out and touched his face. "Hold me, please? I need you right now to hold me."

MIchael stood up and walked around the bed to crawl in behind her. The negotiated arm placement as he found a way to wrap his arm around her and hold her close that wasn't painful for her. The angle made it so his hand rested on her chest, atop her breast. They both fell asleep.

He stayed with her for several days as she recovered from her injuries. The bruising faded, but the ribs still hurt. The ER doctor told her it would be 5-7 weeks before it was fully healed and to avoid strenuous activity during that time. Michael waited on her. Cooking meals, cleaning up, and helping her bathe. The initial bandaging was meant to be disposed of and she had to ice the area of the fracture. Michael assisted as often as he could.

Each night, Laura invited him back into her bed. Michael never assumed, never overstepped. Each night she would adjust her position and he would then adapt to her. Each morning they would awaken and the routine would begin anew.

The morning of the fifth day, Laura's phone rang. It was her agency asking about her. Michael heard her side of the conversation but it was clear that they were offering her work. She turned it down and then was sullen for the rest of the morning.

"Is everything okay?" Michael finally asked around lunch.

"No," Laura said after a long pause. "It's just... I might have to quit."

Michael said nothing. He didn't want to be seen as taking a side in this. He didn't like that she was an escort, but because she was an escort, it allowed them to have a more intimate relationship than would ever be possible if she wasn't a sex worker.

"Do... do you want to go back to ... being ... to doing that?"

Laura dropped her head, "I don't know. I don't know if I should. I mean, it is what I do. I enjoy it. But this... I feel... this changed things."

"What has changed?"

Laura looked around and was about to laugh as though the question was absurd. Michael interrupted her dismissal. "No, seriously. What has changed? Something happened to you. Like what if you were a ... I don't know... a construction worker, and a steel beam fell on you. Didn't kill you, didn't maim you, just put you out of work for awhile, do you stop being a construction worker."

Laura shook her head, "But dad, this was so personal..."

"Your work is personal. It is intimate. It is why you like doing it. I hate that you have this risk. So many risks, but you are not this. You aren't this event. You are more than this. This happened to you but so did the appendicitis.

"I am not making light of what happened to you, I am just saying, with the right help you can move on."

Laura nodded. "The right help... I need the right help. I need to know I can... I can still fuck."

Michael didn't say anything.

Laura looked up at him and gave him a seductive smile. "Will you fuck me?"

Michael shifted from foot to foot. "I don't think that is a good..."

"Please? I need to know I can still fuck. I'm not broken, right?"

Laura lowered herself slowly to her knees and beckoned Michael to her. He felt compelled. He couldn't resist her. Ever. He walked over to her, undoing his pants. As he got there his cock was out, dangling in front of him and his daughter, so beautiful, took it in her hand.

It did not take long until he was fully hard and Laura was sucking on his cock. She was really working it, sometimes wincing, sometimes moaning. Michael looked down and saw she had a hand between her own legs, in her panties, rubbing her pussy.

It was hot, but Michael started to think too much, too much about what had happened. Laura sensed it and pulled open her robe, exposing her tits to him. "Look at me, daddy. Look at your daughters big tits. Cover them in cum, daddy. Give me what I need."

Michael moaned and pushed his cock towards her. "Suck it," he said, surprising himself.

That seemed to drive Laura crazy and she engulfed his cock and really started sucking it harder, and faster.

He felt his orgasm rise. "I'm going to cum."

Laura worked harder and received his ejaculation into her mouth, drinking it all down.

"Oh fuck, baby. Laura that was amazing."

Laura pulled back and wiped a bit of cum from her lips, "Good enough to get paid for it?"

Michael laughed, "Yes, absolutely."