Three Hours Pt. 02

Lucy, a young single mother and professional escort featured in the vignette "Three Hours". To recap, she booked a BDSM job with an anonymous wealthy woman, but remembered nothing of the scene at all. The next day, instead of the agreed $300, she was given $300k. This is the story of what happened next xxx

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Some soul searching had occurred since the unexpected windfall landed in Lucy Shaw's bank account. That weird job had deeply unnerved her. Waking up like that, helpless, losing all memory of what happened really drove home her own vulnerability. This wasn't how she would have chosen to earn her living.

A niggling part of her was desperate for answers, but the greater part was afraid to ask. Whatever indignities her body had been subject to, it didn't matter. This miracle, her ludicrous miracle might be fragile as a bubble of soap.

Stella laid it out bluntly, "What kind of person drops three hundred grand on a stranger, then disappears from the face of the earth? The fucking crazy, dangerous kind."

Lucy rationalised it, compartmentalised it, and faked a lottery win to anyone who asked. She never told a soul about that three hour missing piece of her life, even Stella. She was too grateful for the life she had left.

Eli was coming up to nine months when he started coasting around the furniture, curious, relentless. As he got older he'd ask what mommy did for a living, his teachers would ask. At the ripe old age of twenty-three she enrolled in the local community college to study hair and beauty.

She had a talent for it, eager to learn, keen to make the most of it. By the time Eli started school she was a permanent stylist at Cher Pierre. Settled at work, confident she was ready for her forever home, she used the last $13k of the enormous tip to put down a deposit on a two bed apartment.

Eli was her world. The time they spent together, the growing faith that yes, everything was going to be okay really did feel like winning the lottery.

Sometimes she missed the kink. But as Stella pointed out, a sensible career and an exciting lovelife weren't incompatible. After all, Stella had everything. Her marriage was solid yet spicy, her business sense was second to none, she planned to retire at forty, Lucy didn't doubt it for a second.

Free from Mack's controlling behaviour, free from the often clinical demands of sex work, she explored her desires with different people. Some relationships lasted for a couple of months, but jealousy was an issue. She wasn't looking for the one, not by a long shot, but the whole world seemed determined to change her mind.

Wasn't that what she really needed though? Stability, security, for Eli if not for herself?

Friends that knew about Eli's father did their best to remind her that most men aren't into drug dealing or armed robbery, and that the signs were always there with Mack. That wasn't the point.

"You see a red flag, I see an invitation," she lamented. It was half funny half fucked up. She still felt sorry for Mack. He wasn't the worst of her exes.

"So you'll find someone to trust," they said. "You'll know him when you see him." That didn't seem probable given her track record, so she stopped looking. Stuff still happened now and then, a few friends with benefits. Two by two they paired off and she was happy for them. Sort of.

Mack may have been an ego driven nightmare boyfriend, but his parents were lovely people. Once they realised Lucy had turned her life around, they became very supportive. They put a hundred dollars a month into their grandson's college fund, sent gifts on behalf of themselves and Mack. They understood that Eli needed some contact with his father, at the same time they could see it was impossible for Lucy to be the facilitator. They took him up to visit their son on holidays and birthdays. A couple of times a year the stars aligned and the grandparents would whisk him away for a holiday too.

Work was a satisfying substitute for a relationship. By the time she was thirty-five she ran thirty stylists across two different salons and a hotel spa. She managed their books and finances, sometimes their drama. Restraining orders, divorce dramas, custody battles, these were the last nails in the coffin of her own love life.

Over the years, she built up contacts with different wedding planners. It was a lucrative field, and tempted her sometimes as a career change, but business aside she was an artist through and through. It was kind of magic bringing women out of their shells, showing them just how beautiful they were.

There was a big job on the books the last weekend in April. The bride, twelve bride's maids plus flower girls for a wedding plus breakfast, plus evening reception. It was at a beautiful old colonial hotel, a couple of hours drive from Chelsea. Lucy took her two best girls and they had their own suite of rooms. This was the sort of job Lucy enjoyed, the pressures were immense, the rewards priceless.

Trouble was, this wedding party was all high maintenance. They knew exactly how beautiful they were already, and they were used to ordering their own staff around. It was all Lucy could do to keep her girls from flouncing off home half way through the first sitting. They made light of it once the last piece of work sashayed downstairs to the main hall.

Lucy wondered how many surgeries, fillers and implants they'd had between them. That was one thing that never appealed to her, gravity always won. She was tempted to keep a picture of the maid of honour's face just to remind herself of that fact.

The plan had been to enjoy the gym and spa between sittings but Lucy was exhausted. Instead she put up her feet and called Eli. He answered immediately and Lucy tutted, "Did you already have your phone in your hand?"

She loved his laugh. "Mom! I was texting."

"Ok baby, I know." She gave a big old stretch and kicked off her shoes. "Just make sure you get the most of this beautiful sunshine, how was the waterpark?"

"Amazing, check out grandma on the slide." A bell popped up on the screen and Lucy chuckled at the video message. Grace was in pretty good shape for a woman of sixty.

"Tell her to give you a squeeze from me baby. I miss you already."

"Aw, it's only a couple of days. I miss my playstation."

"Don't. I bet you still see it running whenever you close your eyes. Did you eat breakfast?"

"Breakfast and breakfast. And key lime pie. Gotta go mom, grandpa's calling me, love you!"

"Aw baby, I..." but he'd gone. Thirteen. She shivered then. Tried not to dwell on her own formative years. Eli was still her baby, so full of honest humor and love. There was a hot ball of anger deep inside Lucy that she rarely acknowledged, sometimes it needed a few minutes to simmer back down. "I need some air," she said.

Maisie, the younger girl, glanced up from her phone. "Sure," she said. "Ya hungry?"

But Lucy had already stepped out onto the balcony. The smell of sap rising, hot sunshine on black soil, a brisk westerly wind carrying the sound of geese on the wing. City woman through and through, this was still heaven.

The second sitting right before the evening reception was worse. Skinny rich girls that don't eat get crabby in the afternoon, so do bored preschoolers in formal wear. There were tears of frustration behind the scenes, but Lucy was proud of her stylists, they got the job done.

There was a big pagoda outside with fake flowers and fairy lights, she sent her girls down there for photography touch ups. Lucy watched the sun go down from that big old balcony with a little niggle of guilt. She grabbed a quick shower and touched up her own hair and face before heading down to join them.

Her phone was alive with notifications but she tucked it away. All these guests were sharing videos and pictures, she'd upload a couple of shots for the salon when she got round to it. Once the reception started and alcohol started flowing, Lucy began to relax. Job done for now. She picked up a cocktail pitcher and a tray of sandwiches from the bar and headed out to find her girls. They'd picked a nice spot near one of the outdoor heaters and were checking out bridezilla videos. She had to laugh.

Maisie was so resentful of being ordered around by colleagues or clients, today had been hard on her. Lucy couldn't relate to it, personally. Far better when people were honest about what they needed. Her attention wandered from the videos they'd all seen before, up to the mezzanine above the covered pool that was doubling as an outdoor disco. A few middle aged men were failing to impress.

"You're missing some spectacular dad dancing Maisie," she said with a smirk.

"Come on, this can't be for real."

They couldn't look away. Fancy clothes and fancy cars and no class at all, an open bar didn't help the situation.

"It's like reality TV," Cara chimed in.

Lucy rolled her eyes, "You like reality though, right?"

"You know what I mean boss," Cara made a face and giggled, "Viejos cachondos, drama's standard."

"Fast cars, fat wallets," Maise paused, for a second Lucy saw wistful desire cross the girl's face.

"Ricachón???" Cara laughed out loud, "You're a good girl Maisie, don't get any silly notions." She wagged her finger just like an angry mother.

"What is that?" Maisie wagged her finger back, "Micro penis?"

Lucy poured another trio of cocktails and laughed. They'd be up all hours, giving the headboard a workout. It was so easy for them to joke about fucking people for money, when they'd only ever...

Lucy's hand tightened on the handle of the pitcher and sweet syrupy pineapple mimosa went all over the sandwiches.

It was Her.

Standing right under the mezzanine.

The girls were so busy fussing about the mess scrambling for napkins they didn't notice Lucy close her eyes for the count of three and look again. Yes. It was most definitely Her. Flame red hair ornately coiffed, she wore a flowing shift of gold lamme that clung to her petite figure, it made her look larger than life. And of course, that face Lucy would never forget. The woman leaned towards the man next to her to speak, then they walked inside together.

"Sorry girls, I'm too tired for this, you have a key card of your own right?"

Cara tutted, "It's still so early! You okay?"

"Whatever, don't wait up." Maisie winked as she said it.

Lucy crunched her way back up the gravel path, found a side door, and slunk round to the smaller bar which served the rest of the hotel. It was an island of normality, but she could still hear the faint throb of dance music. Why was she feeling like this? Scared, stupid, hot as fuck? She knocked back a caustic shot of neat bourbon and let it sear some clarity back into her head.

"You're not twenty-three any more," she muttered to herself. Gradually the intense feelings died away leaving her shaking.

If it wasn't for the girls she'd have left, immediately, that's what she told herself later anyway. She'd driven them out here to the middle of nowhere, they'd earned their fun, and she owed them a ride home tomorrow. Lucy could avoid people until then.

Three men were sitting behind her with laptops open on the table. Midnight at a wedding hotel? Crazy workaholics. Another gentleman passed though talking quietly to himself. It took Lucy a second to realise he was talking into a security headset and she shook her head, ordered another bourbon, this time with a mixer.

She took out her phone. A dose of reality helped her calm all the way down. There was Eli with two thumbs up and a big smile on his face, sitting down to demolish a big steak special. She chuckled quietly to herself. As usual, his grandparents had messaged her their holiday itinerary. Five days at their timeshare condo in Florida, four days back home with them.

Saturday they'd take him up to FMC Devens to visit Mack. Eli's dad was recovering from surgery on his liver, that's what his parents had said. Palliative surgery. Poor kid had no idea. She was ready for tears come Sunday when they brought him home, but it left her cold. She'd always dreaded the day Mack got parole, God willing now that day would never come.

The past, the past. Fuck the past and fuck tonight.

Lucy downed the rest of her drink and marched on up to her hotel room. The upside of being single for years was knowing how to take care of herself. She rummaged through her overnight bag until she found her trusty little travel buddy. Turned down the lights and hung 'do not disturb' on the door.

She kicked off her heels and sank back onto the beautifully made bed. The cotton sheets smelled like heaven. She pressed her cheek against the cool fabric and sighed. The throbbing pulse of the disco downstairs was only just noticeable, a gentle buzz in the window frames.

Teasing herself, she wriggled her hips out of her formal trousers without undoing them, letting them bunch around her ankles. She spread her thighs and breathed deeply, savouring the coolness of her damp panties on her hardening clit.

One by one she nudged the buttons on her blouse open, pulled down the soft cups of her bra. She wet her fingers, running them over her tongue with a little sigh before teasing her nipples hard.

Her mind slowly emptied as the need to be touched displaced everything mundane. She pulled the edge of her underwear tight against her sex, whimpering at the gentle pinch, the promise of it.

Turning the vibe on to its highest setting she tucked it into her panties, pulled it tight against her clit. One hand feverishly pinching and pulling at a nipple, one hand keeping the underwear painfully tight, she pressed her eyes shut, arched her back and ground her ass against the bed.

Abstract images flickered in and out of focus, a breast, a hand, an open mouth. A pulling sensation joining her fevered sex to her aching clit, the gentlest of kisses. She imagined cool lips enveloping her nipple, tongue patiently swirling in circles around it as her breaths came faster, shallower, turning to rhythmic whimpers as she quietly came.

For a moment she was satisfied. Then all her worries clamoured back into their familiar places.

"What's wrong with me?" she breathed to herself.

The distant music had stopped. Lucy's pulse throbbed behind her eyes. She didn't want to go again, whatever. She didn't want to sleep.

She pushed the still buzzing vibe up inside herself with a little gasp. Turning onto her belly knees still wide open she squeezed the toy, pulsing, grinding, breathing heavily into the pillow. The lace of her underwear cut into her hips as she pulled, twisted, came again howling into the pillow, the seam gave with a snap, the little toy shot out onto the bed, and buzzed away onto the carpet. Red faced and panting, Lucy scrambled out of bed, groveled on her hands and knees, hurriedly turning the thing off.

She knelt there, blew a lock of hair off her face and giggled. The bedroom door softly closed.

For a second Lucy froze. Then hurriedly pulled up her ruined panties and trousers and scrambled for her phone. Damn! It was in her jacket in the living room with her wallet. Alright, she thought, calm down. She buttoned up her blouse. Nothing to be afraid of, probably one of the girls checking on her. Maisie most likely, the little perv.

And if it wasn't?

Well. She wasn't going to get robbed without a fight.

She picked up the hooked pole used for closing the curtains and took a big breath before bursting out into the living room.

The woman of her dreams was standing there. Her pallor was unearthly, her skin translucent in the stark light. The gold fabric of the dress was obscene, like some kind of Hollywood costume. Her hair was loose in places, framing her stark face with wispy amber locks. There were diamonds, in her hair, at her throat, on her wrist.

"What... what are you d... doing in my room?"

Lucy let the question hang there, watching the woman fiddle with the clasp of her bracelet and shift her weight from one foot to the other.

"I had to see. I thought perhaps I'd imagined it was you." The fear in her voice, on her face, you'd think this was her room and Lucy was the intruder.

Lucy tried a smile. This whole surreal situation needed a scream or a smile to break the ice. "I have to say. That's sorta creepy and crazy ma'am."

"Touché to both. I should probably just..."

"Don't." The word fell out of Lucy's mouth before she could think twice about it. "Don't go yet."

Those dark eyes, so vivid and hungry, kept Lucy's until she ached to look away or dive deeper in and drown in them. "Don't go yet," the woman echoed, "is not the same as stay."

Lucy brandished the curtain hook for a second before awkwardly setting it aside. It fell down, clattering against a table. She didn't even glance at it.

"I don't know."

"May I?" The woman gestured to the sofa, even that simple movement entranced Lucy with its possibilities.

"Please," Lucy said. "Stay." She felt the buzz of two brandies and a mimosa, it helped a little but she still headed to the mini bar. "What's your poison?"

The woman smiled at last. She went from pretty to beautiful in a heartbeat. "Whatever you're having."

"Right." Lucy scanned the small selection nervously, picked out a half bottle of rosé and a couple of balloon glasses. She sat on the chair opposite and poured them both a generous measure.

"Believe it or not, I'm here on business tonight, I never planned on running into you."

"Yeah." Lucy couldn't help the cynical smirk. "I kind of tried to stalk you a little bit back in the day but my friend warned me off. Said you'd be crazy or dangerous. I'm still trying to figure out which."

"Just stupid. I wish I could have just bought you a drink and started a conversation."

"Yeah?" Lucy sipped the perfectly chilled wine. "You don't need to buy me a drink." A simple choice she had. To act like it didn't matter, or speak the truth out loud for the first time in years. "Why don't I remember anything?"

The silence weighed heavy as the woman played with the stem of her glass. Lucy tried to glean something from the woman's tone or body language, it was all very neutral. Her nerves seemed steadier with a drink in her hand.

"It hasn't happened since, has it? No? Then why worry? Maybe you'd had a little too much to drink."

"Look, lady. I was never that kind of girl. Getting wasted isn't my style, what did you do? Drug me?"

"You didn't report it. You never went to the hospital. You know I didn't drug you."

Lucy laughed. "I had no clue. I dumped my milk for two days just in case. The kind of money you laid on me was enough to keep my mouth shut, then and now. It changed my life, you know? God. Will you please just tell me what happened?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Did you hypnotise me?"

"In a way, I guess. I thought I knew what we both needed, but I didn't. You were so honest in your way, so vulnerable, just... I was dealing with... some things."

Lucy swallowed hard. She wanted to shout out, scream out, needed to know what had been done to her. That thirteen years later there wasn't one clue, one shady memory of those hours they spent together.

"Whatever. Look, I thought I'd moved on till I saw you. Perhaps it's best for both of us if things stay that way. I was grateful, right? I still am."

"I could have given you false memories, let you believe everything went as planned. You begged me not to."

There was something jarring about that statement. Lucy couldn't put her finger on it. It was a ridiculous thing to say, yet it had some kernel of truth. Did she beg, really? No. Something was missing.

"Don't do that," Lucy said. "Please don't stretch the truth."

"I want you. And if I tell the truth it might never happen."