The Luxury Companion
- 5 months ago
- 22 min read
- 3,000 visitas
I never thought there would be a situation where I would need money so badly that I would be applying for a job as an escort, but here we are.
Ashley, a friend of mine from high school, got me the interview. She started stripping right after we graduated and eventually began working in porn. She didn't make a lot of movies, yet she always seemed to have a ton of money.
Finally, one day I just asked her how in the world she could afford to live as she did. I know porn stars were rumored to make good money, but there was no way she was making that kind of money in porn with just doing a few movies a year. Luckily for me, she was a little drunk and spilled the beans.
"You're kidding, right? You are so naive Kimberly, I love it," Ashley said. "I only do just enough porn to draw the attention of my real clients."
"Real clients," I asked, not understanding what she meant.
"Rich men who pay me to spend time with them," she said casually as if it were no big deal.
"What the … are you kidding me, Ashley? You're working as a hooker?"
"Escort," she corrected. "A hooker walks the streets for little to no money. I'm a luxury companion who gets paid top dollar for my services."
"How top are we talking," I had to ask.
"It really depends on the client and what specifically they want, but I never go on a date for less than a thousand dollars an hour, and I always charge a minimum of $10,000 for an overnight."
I was speechless. I couldn't believe that anyone would spend $1,000 an hour to be with a girl, no matter how hot the girl was.
Most men I knew were happy to get rid of a girl after sex, but these men were paying Ashley $10,000 to stay the night. How was that even possible? Where there really that many men out there that would pay that kind of money to sleep with girls that there was an entire cottage industry built around it? Apparently so because Ashley had been doing this for a while now.
What she said had stuck with me as just an interesting story, but now, a year later, it's become my lifeline. I never thought I would be calling her asking her for help. No, I wasn't asking her for money. What I needed was her help in getting a job.
I wasn't a porn star, so I wasn't sure if the agency she worked with would even be interested in me, but I was quite popular on social media. I had more than 400,000 followers on Instagram. I was even featured in Esquire magazine last year as one of the hundred sexiest Instagram models.
Sure, I've never been on the cover of Vogue or walked a runway in a fashion show, as real models did, but still, I thought I was doing well. But I was just kidding myself. I was a professional girlfriend. I was never going to be a real model, no matter how many followers on Instagram I had.
It all started with Raphael. He was a mobile app developer who hit it big and needed a pretty girl on his arm. I fit the bill. I don't think it mattered who the girl was, as long as she was pretty and made him look good by being with him. Still, he paid the bills, and by being with him, I enjoyed a great life. I didn't want for anything.
At first, I really thought we had something, that he loved me, but I learned the hard way that rich men like him are all too happy to replace you when you start to have needs or, even worse, have opinions of your own.
After Raphael and I broke up, I began seeing Victor, a Bitcoin millionaire, who like Raphael, only wanted a trophy to show off at events.
He didn't care about me as a person, I was just another piece of property. Don't get me wrong, he treated me well, and I had a great life with him. We traveled the world, and my Instagram feed was never so interesting. But I was never really someone he truly cared about. I was meant to shut up and look pretty. In return, he made sure I never wanted for anything.
But now that relationship is over too, and I don't know what to do.
As much as I wished I could say I was making enough money on my own to support myself as a social media influencer, I'm really not.
People send me a lot of free products to promote in my Instagram feed, but free products don't exactly pay the bills. I can't pay my rent with a Gucci purse or a Kylie Jenner lip kit.
Ashley had a two-bedroom apartment in downtown LA. She offered to let me come stay with her, but her rent is $4,400 per month. I can't afford to split the rent with her, so becoming her roommate was out.
Even if I stayed with her temporarily until I could find a place on my own, where would I eventually go? It's not like I could afford my own apartment. It's expensive to live in Los Angeles.
So that's what led me to where I am today, on my way to an interview to become a paid companion -- an escort.
The drive from downtown to the West Hollywood mansion where my meeting is being held took about an hour and a half. LA traffic is always such a nightmare, no matter what time of day it is.
I was scared to go by myself, so I got Ashley to go with me to the meeting. I didn't know what to expect, so I thought by having her with me, I would be less nervous. I wasn't. By the time our Uber pulled up outside of the rot iron gates of the fancy house, I had thought I might throw up from nerves.
The house was impressive. You could tell these people, whoever they were, spent a lot of time fixing the place up. There were a lot of little details like pixie lights on the water fountain upfront.
Once we were through security, we were greeted by a decent looking guy named Enrico. I'm not sure, but he's probably in his mid-40s and spoke with a distinctive South American accent. I wasn't quite sure where he was from, he could have been Brazilian or Cuban, for all I knew. I was never good at judging those kinds of things.
"Enrico, this is my friend that I told you about, Kimberly Harper."
"Miss Harper, it's lovely to meet you."
"Please, just call me Kim," I insisted.
"This is my wife, Catina," Enrico s aid as we entered the living room.
Enrico's wife Catina was stunning. She had extremely long brown hair. She had to have been growing that out from birth. She was like a real-life Rapunzel.
"So, Kimberly, Ashley tells me you are an Instagram influencer," Enrico said. "That sounds interesting. How long have you been doing that?"
"Since I was about 17, so about five years now. I didn't get heavily into it, though, until about three years ago. That's when I started building my large following. My boyfriend at the time would take me on vacation, I would take pictures, and I guess people really liked them."
"Are you still with this man?" Enrico asked.
"No, we haven't been together for a while now. I'm single," I was quick to clarify.
"Are you looking for a serious relationship?" He wanted to know.
"No, I'm ready to focus on me right now. I'm done with the whole relationship thing. I need to get my life together. I need to find a way to take care of me."
"Would you be open to being a professional girlfriend?"
"What exactly does that mean?" I asked.
I thought I knew what he meant by that, but I wanted to make sure.
"Some clients are into the whole girlfriend experience. They want the benefits of having a girlfriend without the hassle of actually being in a relationship," Enrico explained.
"You just described my last two relationships," I said jokingly, but sadly I wasn't kidding. That was exactly how my relationships with both Raphael and Victor were.
"You would need to always remember you are being paid to do a job, and you can't risk letting feelings or emotions creep in.
"Is that something you think you could do?"
"Absolutely. Without a doubt. No question about it. I'm not here to fall in love with the clients, I'm here to do a job and get paid for my time. If they want a pretty face and a big smile, that's exactly what they'll get. If they want me to dote all over them, I'm on it. If they want space, they can have space. I don't care. It's all the same to me."
Catina, who up until now had been quiet, walked towards me.
"Please stand up," she instructed. "I want to get a good look at you."
She rubbed her hand up and down my arm before gently tugging at the bottom of my dress. "Remove this. I want to see your breasts."
I was caught off guard. I just stood there, frozen in place. Was I really about to remove my clothes in front of Ashley and this couple I don't even know?
"Don’t be shy,” Catina urged. “There is a lot of nudity required with this job, so if you are too afraid to remove your clothes for us, how do we know you’ll be able to do it in front of the clients?”
I took a deep breath and finally did as she asked, pulling my dress over my head and then letting it fall to the floor.
“Incredible,” Enrico said.
“Told you she was perfect,” Ashley chimed in.
Catina said nothing. She took her hand and gently ran them over my breasts.
“How old did you say you were Kimberly?” Enrico asked as he looked down at a piece of paper in his hands.
“I turned 22 in November.”
He jotted something down while Catrina continued to examine my body as if she was looking for something specific.
I stood there, buck ass naked, wondering what in the hell I had gotten myself into.
“Do you have a passport?” She asked.
“No, but I can get one, I guess. Do I need one?”
“Yes, you’ll need one. See that you get one right away. Many of our clients like travel companions.”
She gently ran her hand down my arm again. “Soft skin, that’s good. You’ll want to remember to stay hydrated and take care of yourself. We’ll send her to Dr. George,” Catina said as she went back to her seat. “He’ll give you a full exam, including a GSP.”
“What’s a GSP?” I asked.
“It stands for Gold Standard Panel,” Ashley explained. “The test covers most of your STDs like HIV, Chlamydia, Gonorrhea, Syphilis.”
“Clients want to be assured you are STD free,” Catrina interjected. “All of our girls are required to take the test every 30 days if they want to continue working. All of our regular clients get tested as well.”
I started to get a little nervous. I honestly hadn’t given much thought to STDs, but I guess I should have. Even with using condoms, being an escort is high-risk behavior.
“We have two divisions here, one is for porn stars, and another for clients wanting someone more discreet, like yourself. Not known for their sex work.”
I nodded my head as if I understood what Enrico was telling me.
“Porn stars are paid a rate based on the number of movies and awards they have won. The more movies they star in and awards they win, the more clients are willing to pay for their time. All their bookings are based on an hourly rate. They typically start out at $800 an hour, and that can go up to as much as $2,500 an hour.”
$2500 an hour? Seriously? Is anyone that good in bed to be worth that much?
“You, on the other hand, can be brought in on our GFE pay scale, which means you can do either a simple night out on the town or long-term engagements. This means you would be paid monthly. You would see the same client over an extended period of time. You’ll also earn more as a semi-celeb, being an Instagram influencer and all.”
“Wait, just one guy, like a boyfriend? Would I need to see him daily?”
“Each client would be different, but typically no. You would be on call, though. Some might want you every weekend, some just when a professional engagement arises. It depends on the needs of the client. The more he needs, the more we’ll charge for your services.”
“You’ll need to sign this NDA,” Enrico said as he handed me some papers.
“This, Miss Harper, is a non-disclosure agreement. It’s an important legally binding contract that prohibits you from discussing anything you may learn about a client while employed with our service. We deal with some very high-profile clients, and they need to know that their secrets are protected.”
“Of course, I understand.”
Everything seemed so formal and professional. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but not this. Not so businesslike, not so cold. Relationships are messy and passionate, not something you define with a business contract. Then again, what the heck do I know? My last two relationships were utter and complete disasters. Maybe this is a better way.
“Get on top of that passport right away, and it can take a few weeks to get one, even if you expedite it. Once you do get your passport, go meet with Dr. George for your exam, and we’ll meet up again after that.”
“Okay. I can work on that tomorrow.”
“We can go get it after we leave here,” Ashley chimed in. “She’s staying with me for now, so I’ll make sure she has everything taken care of.”
I hated to depend on Ashley so much right now, but I didn’t have much of a choice. I couldn’t afford a place of my own.
After we left, Ashley took me to the post office to fill out the needed paperwork to get my passport. We paid the extra fee to have it expedited, but they still said it could be a few weeks.
And they were right, fourteen days later, my passport arrived in the mail.
Later that day, Ashley took me to see this Dr. George to get my exam. It cost me $190 to get all the needed tests done, which covered HIV, Chlamydia, Gonorrhea, Hepatitis C, Syphilis, and Trichomonas Vaginalis.
I was told my results would be ready by noon the next day. If I pass, that means I’ll be able to start work at the escort agency at that time.
I knew I would pass because I hadn’t ever had sex without a condom. With Victor, mostly because I was quite sure I wasn’t his only girlfriend, so when we broke up, the first thing I did was get tested. I just wanted to make sure I was okay.
But I get the agency couldn’t just take my word for it. They had their procedures, and if I wanted to work with them, I had to follow them.
The next afternoon I got a call from Catina. She wanted me to stop by her house for another visit. This time I went alone because Ashley was in Florida, filming her next movie.
“Are you ready for your first job?” She asked.
I wasn’t sure if I was, but it’s now or never. “Of course. I’m nervous but excited.”
When I didn’t say anything, she went on. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. I’m sending you to a client we start all of our new girls off with. That’s his thing. He loves to be with the girls when it’s their first time. It works out great because it eases the new girls into it.”
I was nervous. This was it. I was getting my first job as an escort.
“Now, you’ll want to make sure you get the money upfront. You’ll want to get that out of the way. You don’t want money coming between you. You’ll get $2,500 for the hour. You’ll owe me 10% of that. If he tips you anything beyond the $2,500 fee, you get to keep all of that. You only owe me 10% off of the hourly rate, not on your tips.”
“Okay,” I could barely get out. It was all just so much to take in.
“I want you to go home, get dressed up. Think cocktail attire, with full hair and makeup. Then meet Dominic at the Beverly Wilshire at seven. Don’t be late. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“Do I ask for him at the front desk?”
“No. I’ll text you the room number when he checks in. You’ll enter the hotel and go directly to his room.”
I made my way to the 14th floor of the Beverly Wilshire, doing my best to avoid eye contact with anyone.
I’m so nervous. My stomach is full of butterflies. Could I go through with this?
It’s just sex. It’s not that big of a deal.
I’ve had one night stands before. What’s the difference? I mean, at least I know this guy's name. It’s Dominic Kiselyov.
I once hooked up with a guy in a bar and never even found out his name. So at least I know who this guy is. He’s some rich Russian dude who loves breaking in new hookers.
God, I’m a hooker.
No, not a hooker. I’m a high-end companion. A luxury companion.
That’s better. I wasn’t walking the streets. I was meeting up with the upper echelon of society for companionship.
I can do this.
It’s just a matter of hanging out with some guy, getting to know him. That’s not so bad. Right? Right.
The ding of the elevator let me know that I had arrived.
I took a deep breath and walked up to the door. I had barely tapped on it before a large man opened it.
I’m not sure what I was expecting Dominic Kiselyov to look like, but he quite honestly wasn’t half bad looking at all.
He was tall, with dark eyes. He has a stern look on his face. He was intimidating, to say the least.
“Yes, please come in,” he replied with a strong Russian accent.
I walked into his suite and looked around. It was really fancy. I’d never been in a suite at the Beverly Wilshire, so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.
He closed the door and secured the lock on it. I turned around to check him out a little better.
My eyes were drawn to the sight of his large hands.
“So, you’re the Kimberly that Catina told me about?”
“I am indeed,” I giggled.
“Take a seat,” he insisted. “Anywhere you like.”
I walked over to the couch and sat down. I wasn’t sure if he was going to sit down next to me. This whole thing is just so nerve-wracking. It’s like, what do I do? What do I say?
He walked over to the bar and made us both a drink.
“Here,” he said as he handed me the glass. “Drink this, it will help you relax.”
With the drink, he also handed me my payment of $2,500. I tucked the money into my purse.
“What is it?” I asked as I took my first sip.
I’d never had Cognac before. I’d heard of it, of course, but this was my first time tasting it. It tasted better than I thought it might. It was a little spicy and fruity.
After I finished my drink, I began to relax. He was right, that drink was exactly what I needed.
“Tell me about this Instagram thing you do,” Dominic said as he sat down next to me on the couch.
“What would you like to know?” I asked.
“What exactly is it you do?”
“I’m an Instagram influencer.”
“What do you influence?”
“And you influence them to do what?”
“Well, mostly to buy things. Companies send me gifts like makeup kits or clothes, and I take pictures of myself using what they sent me and post it to Instagram, to get other people to buy them.”
“And they listen to you, why?”
I shrug. “Because I’m pretty?”
He grins. “That you are.”
I leaned in and kissed him, and then I reached down and placed my hand on the growing bulge in his pants.
“My sweet little kiska has a naughty side, doesn’t she?”
“Yes, I do,” I said as I straddled him.
His hands started to glide over my body with a burning need. Dominic gripped my breasts firmly and placed his mouth over them.
Suddenly he grabbed me by the throat, forcing me closer to his mouth, seizing me with an urgent kiss loaded with passion and despair.
“Off,” he commanded as he tugged at my dress.
I stood up and quickly removed it but decided to leave my heels on. I know it’s cliché, but I can’t help it. I feel sexy in them.
Before I could sit back down on his lap, Dominic stood up and put his mouth on my nipples. He slid his hand in between my thighs and slid a finger inside of me.
Staring into my eyes, he slowly worked his finger in and out of me. He never looked away as he put a second finger inside. I was so wet. It felt so good.
He was so good at this. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling as he worked his fingers in and out of me.
This man was very skilled. We’ve only just begun, and this guy has me about to lose it, and he hasn’t even fucked me yet.
I was grinding myself against him as he worked his fingers in and out of my pussy, faster and faster.
I was quivering and thrashing in the throes of true sexual abandon when he pulled his fingers out of my pussy. I opened my eyes, dazed and confused.
“Go to the bedroom,” he ordered as he pointed towards the door.
I didn’t hesitate before I turned on my heel and went into the bedroom. I would do anything this man told me to do right now. I was so turned on.
I just wanted him to fuck me. I needed him inside of me.
“Lay down,” he growled, and I quickly obeyed.
As I positioned myself on the bed, he removed his clothes. It was then I got my first look at his cock.
When I had first met Dominic, I noticed his large hands and I briefly wondered if the story was true about men with big hands. It was. Christ, it was.
He was fucking huge.
“Spread your legs kiska. I want to see all of you.”
He positioned himself between my legs. “Such a pretty little pussy,” he said as he bent down and licked my clit.
I felt like I was on cloud nine. He continued moving his magical tongue as he worked a finger, then two in and out of me.
“You’re so wet for me,” he growled.
“I want you inside of me,” I pleaded.
He pushed me back on the bed, and in one swift motion, he slammed into me, making me cry out in ecstasy.
He filled me so completely.
He slammed into me hard, invading my body with his thick, hard shaft.
Lightning zigzagged through my body.
His hips started a punishing rhythm, and I moved my hips up to match him thrust for thrust.
“Christ kiska, you’re so fucking tight.”
I clenched my muscles, squeezing him even tighter, making him groan in response.
His cock pounded into me with a force that bordered on painful. But there was no time to register the pain before pleasure overwhelmed me.
I held on tightly, enjoying every second of it.
He was so big. He stretched me mercilessly, but that only added to the torturous pleasure.
My body grew tighter. More tense. The pleasure kept building higher and higher. He slammed into me over and over, rocking me with every brutal thrust.
My fingers dug into his flesh. I felt a quickening inside, and I knew I was close.
“Oh God,” I cried out as he surged forward, sending whips of lightning dancing through my body.
A raging inferno began slowly moving through me, which began to engulf every part of my body.
But before I could explode, Dominic pulled his cock out of me, flipped me over onto my stomach.
He grabbed my hips so that I was on all fours and rammed his cock into me again. I could feel every inch of him moving within me, hitting my sweet spot over and over again.
I let out a loud moan and then begged him to fuck me harder. I was so close. I could feel it. I needed more. Oh, God, so much more.
His cock slammed into a spot inside of me, which sent a jolt through my body. I moaned loudly, and he deliberately hit it over and over again.
He pounded into me relentlessly, hitting that perfect spot time and again. The slapping sound of our bodies got faster and faster.
“Oh, fuck, yes!” I shouted as I came. My muscles contracted into a delicious delight as I came around his length.
He grunted as he continued to thrust inside of me. “Your pussy looks so good stretched around my cock,” he growled.
He slammed into me with one final thrust. Buried deep inside of me, he came hard, filling me with his come, shouting something in Russian.
I tried to catch my breath as I felt Dominic pull out of me.
Christ, that was the best sex I’d ever had in my life, and I got paid $2,500 to do it.
Dominic went to the bathroom to clean up. Before I knew it, he was dressed and heading out.
He let me stay in his fancy hotel suite after he left, and I took full advantage of the time, taking a ton of pictures for Instagram. Not mentioning, of course, the wild and crazy sex I had just had in the room.