Trades And Orgasms

I knew living on my own would be difficult while I was in university, but I didn't expect to fall broke so quickly. I wouldn't get another salary for four days, and even then, it would only cover my rent and a portion of my food. My family was dealing with their own financial difficulties, so I couldn't exactly ask them for money.

However, I don't have much time to think about this because I can't be late for my next lesson or I'll be in big trouble. I rise from my sat position in my bed and put on a white blouse and black jeans. I have yet to do my laundry at my building's damp basement laundry room, and they are the only clean pair of jeans I own.

Before I go, I take a quick look in the mirror; my long brown hair is a mess, so I twist it into a tight bun to keep it out of my face. To be honest, I could have put more care into my appearance, and if I had, I probably wouldn't have looked so horrible. Makeup was daunting because I had no idea how to use it and wouldn't know where to start. I sigh and take my shoulder bag, checking that my laptop and books are inside before locking the door behind me and walking down the street.

I can tell right away that the jeans are a mistake; it's the middle of summer in London, and the heat on the backs of my legs makes me sweat even more.

The university campus is only a few blocks away, so I can easily walk there; I don't have a car, and I don't like the buses here. As the last few students enter the stuffy lecture hall and take their seats, I hurry to the back and take a seat next to my good buddy Poppy.

"Hey gorgeous" She smiles as I place my belongings on the floor next to hers, collecting my books.

"Hey girl, new bag?" I return her smile with a whisper. She smiles and reaches down to touch the cloth of her clearly designer red leather tote bag. It's stunning, and it's the third new purse I've seen her wear this month. In fact, the majority of her clothing is new, and she even has a new watch that sparkles in certain lights.

"My daddy got it for me" She moves forward in her seat to have a better look at me. Her response perplexes me.

"Your father is a mechanic how could he afford all this?" I make a motion toward her clothing. Sure, her father owned the mechanic's shop, but they couldn't have made that much money, right?

She giggles gently, unconcerned about the professor at the front of the room, who is plainly oblivious to all the noise in the hall. "Not my father, my daddy," she grins at my perplexed expression.

"I'll explain after class" She then turns her head forward and stares at the speaker, who has cleared his throat and began speaking to the rest of the audience.

"What do you mean your daddy buys you this stuff?" I sling my bag over my shoulder and quicken my pace to match her long confident strides, her heels clicking each time she strikes the pavement.

"You can't judge me when I tell you okay?" As we sit on the library steps, she asks quietly.

Why should I criticize her? I nod swiftly. As a cool breeze passes past me, I tighten my Danteet around my body.

She sighs softly. "Okay, so basically a month ago I was in a financial bind and spotted an ad online for girls in need of money. It's a completely legitimate agency, similar to a matchmaking service. They unite girls in need of money with older men who have more income. It's similar to dating, but you get paid for it." She notices my stunned expression, which I have tried to maintain to a minimum. She hadn't even hinted that she was dating someone, let alone someone older.

"I'm basically his 'girlfriend.'" We go to meals, art galleries, and functions. Some of them wish to flaunt a lovely girl on their arm, while others simply like the company of younger girls. In any case, I make roughly four times what I would have made as a waitress."

"Wait, have you quit your job?" I inquire, and she nods. Poppy worked weekends in a cafe and was often complaining about how bad it was. When she stopped complaining about how tired her feet were or how annoying some clients were, I assumed she had a wonderful shift.

"Is it just one guy?" I'm concerned that my pal has become a professional prostitute.

She laughs. "There's just one of them. Adan is his name, and he works in investments. He's in his late thirties, I believe, and he's actually kind of humorous, which is a good thing because else it would be a total drag."

"Wow that's um, that's interesting" After a lengthy time of silence, I finally speak.

I'm not sure if one guy makes things better or worse. I can see the appeal of it all, and Poppy is really stunning. She's tall and thin, with dark tanned skin and bright blue eyes; boys have always fell at her feet, so I can picture some jerk paying for her to hang out with him.

"It's not as horrible as you believe. He gives me a say in what we do and never forces me to do anything. Plus, as you can see, he lavishes me with presents. All I have to do if I want or need something is ask." My stomach grumbles loudly, as if on cue.

Poppy is aware that I have been experiencing financial difficulties for some time; she was the only one to whom I confided, and I owed her money for a variety of items that she insisted she could pay. Now I see how she was able to afford them.

"You could do it too!" She smiles warmly and reaches for my hands. "They would love me so much if I brought some more business!"

Business? I'm not a prude or anything, but I never thought I'd be in such a desperate circumstance to believe this was a good idea.

"No, I couldn't," I flinch, pulling my hands back and frowning. It would be nice to have some money, but not like this.

"Come on Amelia, you're starving. You haven't been able to purchase food for God's sake, the wage you get at the restaurant barely covers anything, and the most of your money goes toward rent for that filthy apartment you live in. This is an excellent opportunity. I'll make sure they give you a really nice guy because I brought them you. Plleeaaaasssseee"

I bite my lower lip, thinking that my best buddy was selling me to some rich unknown stranger I hadn't even met yet. And what if I get a dud?

Surely not all of these individuals are doing this for the right reasons; there must be some bad apples among them. I don't want my lifeless body to wash up on the Thames months after I went missing while on a date with a 50-year-old pervert.

And if my parents found out, they would be so disappointed in me that I would be disappointed in myself.