As a social escort, i meet all sorts of men. I never thought i would meet one like John weak.
*i had a good laugh working on this piece, hope you will enjoy it too.*
Ever since I lost my job in one of the regional airlines as an aircrew, I have been working as a freelance social escort.
Escort is a nice word, it sounds more professional but end of the day, I am a whore. A sex worker.
I’m not proud of it but it pays the bill to upkeep lifestyle.
I just need to look pretty, spread my legs and pretend the man fucking me has a 9 inch tool. Knowing how to moan convincingly helped and men are all simple creatures.
As long as you know how to stroke their egos, they will keep coming back.
I joined a high end escort agency with a strict owner.
Marcie is the owner of the agency and the rates are steep.
The girls in the agency are all of high calibre both in terms of looks and education level.
I’m not sure how education level factors into the price charged because I highly doubt the man is going to be looking at your qualification when he cums, but apparently this is a thing here in Singapore.
Somehow men are willing to pay more for degree holders.
Even more for undergraduates.
I joined the airlines right after I completed my diploma and I have always been sore about getting a $100 less than a few other girls who have a degree. I should have listened to my mum, studying hard does pay off, even in the sex trade.
I could always lie can’t I ? No.
Not with this agency.
We are the crème de la crème.
The reputation of the agency trumps everything else.
Men pay $950 an hour with me, of which the agency takes 400. That leaves me with $550 for every hour the men takes me out for.
Since we are not catering to the pheasant class in the country, the men usually book us for 3-6 hours at a stretch. Taking only 1 client a day sets me up for an extremely comfortable and luxurious lifestyle.
Once a month, I would get repeat bookings from my regulars who blocks out an entire weekend. Sure, my vagina gets sore after a weekend of non-stop intercourse, but with 5 figures going into my bank, that soreness is something I’m willing to put up with.
What I like about Marcie’s agency is that we girls, get to choose our client, more or less.
Marcie would let us know the race and the age of the client. Most of the time we will just accept them. If we don’t like say, Indian clients, or local Chinese clients for fear of running into someone we know, we can let Marcie know.
However, rejection must be handled by Marcie.
There is one cardinal rule Marcie has for us girls.
There can never be a ‘No Show’
Once you accept a booking, she doesn’t care if you are having a massive period or you are down with Covid 19.
You jolly well show up.
Even if you are on the verge of dying, you show up.
Most of the time, the client will be understanding enough to postpone or accept a change of girls.
I have always been punctual and on time for my bookings.
Until one day.
One day when I received a 3 hour booking by this client who calls himself John.
I was driving towards the Ritz where the meeting is when this car side swiped me two streets away.
It left a nasty scratch on my car and when I got out and saw the ugly damage on my C180, I let loose a string of vulgarities at the man who was driving a beat up Toyota.
Yes , I admit, I have a streak of elitist mentality in me. I drive a bigger and better car, I make more money than the rest of these men on the road. Yet they are behaving as if women don’t deserve to drive along side them.
“What the hell were you thinking ? Don’t you know how to check your blindspot before changing lanes? “ I screamed at him while looking at my watch.
The bespectacled man replied politely that I was the one that was drifting into his lane.
I rubbished his reply and continued cursing him until he pointed to the road.
My car was in the middle of the lane markings and I was taking up 2 lanes.
“couldn’t you have avoided me if you see me coming ? “ I tried to argue my way and berate the man, saying that there’s no way he can afford to pay for the damages to my car.
He replied calmly that we’ll just let the insurance take care of it.
I jabbed a finger into his face and told him I will make sure I claim so much off his insurer that his premiums will sky rocket during his next renewal. I asked him rudely for his details and took a picture of his ID.
He asked for mine and I pulled it out of my Birkin bag that can probably buy that car of his.
I could see him looking at my body, his eyes roaming up and down, visually appraising and undressing me as other vehicles honked at us in the middle of the road.
Well, I’m just wearing tights and a sports bra, I have a jacket in the car which I will use to cover up later when I enter the Ritz. The client John has requested I dress in this manner because we’re suppose to go for a jog first along the waterway before he wants to fuck me while I’m sweaty and wet.
Part of the fetish package that we cater to.
I was fuming mad when I got back into my car.
I can be quite the bitch when I’m angry.
I arrived on time at the hotel and waited in the lobby.
I text Marcie to let her know I’m here and she told me the client will be late.
After a 10 minute wait, I got a text from Marcie that the client is waiting for me at the bar.
I got up and could see the eyes of the other guests in the hotel looking at me. Something I’ve gotten used to.
I have the looks, I have the figure, I have that confident strut.
In short, men want me.
Arriving at the bar, I was shocked to see the same dick that I got into an accident to waiting for me.
I immediately rolled my eyes as he gestured to the seat beside him without expression. I looked at him in his berms and beat up sneakers. How did the Ritz even let him in here without checking his dress code.
He looked worst dressed than the waiting staff.
Given that we take cash for all deals, for the first time ever, I doubt this man has the money to pay me.
I went to the seat and he offered me a glass of wine.
Ignoring him, I called Marcie and told her I want to reject the client.
“He doesn’t look like he can afford to pay.” I spoke loud enough for him to hear.
I don’t care if he thinks I’m a fucking bitch.
“don’t be stupid Juliette, he can afford to pay, I’m busy, make sure he’s happy.” Marcie hung up on me after that.
“do you judge people base on how they look ? “ The client asked.
Turning to him, I replied in a cold manner.
“ Yes, yes I do and you look like a poor prick who cannot even afford to pay for these drinks. I’m out. “
He held onto my hand to stop me from leaving but I struggled to break free.
“let go ! “ I warned.
When I broke free from his grasp, I took the glass of wine and threw it in his face.
The music in the bar stopped playing. The voices stopped as time froze.
All eyes were on me as I glared at the poor sod in front of me who wanted my body. The red wine dripped down from his face and hair and to make a scene and embarrass him further, I slapped him.
Yes I slapped him.
“ I’m not sleeping with you ! “ I said out aloud and the whispers in the bar started.
I walked out, feeling triumphant and satisfied.
It’s too bad for him he caught me on a bad day.
I drove back to the agency to tell Marcie about the incident. I’m sure she will agree with me when I describe to her about that man.
I looked at the ID I took of him.
John We Ak.
I didn’t notice his name earlier.
I laughed when I pieced together his name.
John Weak. Looking the way he does, I think he deserves that name.
When I entered the agency, I saw Marcie and her 2 assistants on the phone, they were talking and it appears as if something has happened. They looked worried.
When Marie hung up, she came over and slapped me.
The force of the slapped threw me onto the floor and I started to cry. Tears rolled down my cheek as I looked at her defiantly.
“Do you know what you have done ! “ Marcie screamed at me.
I knew what she meant and I told her I rejected that client because he looked like shit. Like he could not even afford to pay for the drinks at the bar.
Marcie covered her face and she looked like she was about to break down.
“He’s a nobody” I said.
Marcie glared at me as if I said something blasphemous.
She pulled me my by sports bra, bringing my face close to her.
“This nobody, is John Weak “ She said.
Marcie pushed me back onto the carpeted floor as she poured herself 3 fingers of whisky.
Marcie revealed that John is one of the few eccentric billionaires that is living in Singapore. Very low profile. He can buy the fucking Ritz if he wants to.
“I, I didn’t know “ I whimpered. “I’m sorry, I’ll fix this, I can fix this.! “
Marcie slammed her whisky glass on the bar counter and spoke to her assistant.
“ Oh my fucking god, are you hearing this ? Is she hearing me ? “ Marcie flew into a rage and she shook me by my shoulders.
“there is no fixing this Juliette.”
I asked her why is she so afraid of him.
I’ve seen her reject other high profile clients before because they were violent to the girls.
Marcie sighed and poured more whisky into her glass.
“I once saw John bring a girl to orgasm with pencil.” Marcie said.
“With a fucking pencil”
“Pop pop! “ Marcie emphasized the jabbing motion with her hands.
John used to help appraise all the girls before they joined Marcie’s agency.
The pioneer batch. Marcie’s agency grew not because she has the prettiest girls, but because John, helped to train the best girls.
“when he wanted to leave and stop training my girls, I begged him to stay. I gave him an impossible challenge .”
Marcie looked at me who was too weak to even stand up and said.
“ The number of girls he brought to orgasm that day, laid the very foundation of what we are today.”
I felt my heart sank as Marcie say there is nothing I can do.
“John Weak, is a man of extreme focus and dedication.”
“and on the day he broke up with his girlfriend, you spun him, knock into his car, and humiliate him in public.”
I swallowed a gulp of saliva as I looked at Marcie.
“ You’re Fucked Juliette, you’re fucked! “
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