They Call Me Trixie: Encounter One

I tap my watch, wondering if he?ll be on time or if he?ll be late, as usual. It?s all right. I?m officially on the clock and he has to pay me for my wait time. He?s good for it. I?ve been seeing him on a weekly basis for three years now. He was one of my first clients. He, like so many of them, thinks he can save me from myself and from the life I live. That?s fine too. Means he tips extra.

The hotel I?m in charges me by the hour. I prefer it that way. I?m reliable and they?re trustworthy. I don?t have to worry about the authorities with them. They?d never turn me in. They value my business too much. It?s a place I wouldn?t have picked myself. One of my clients suggested it when I first got into the business. It works so I keep using it. They own a sister hotel across town. I use that a lot too.

There is a plain shade of vanilla on the walls. Spanish tiles cover the floor. It leads out and onto a balcony area. I?ve never used the balcony but it looks nice enough. The comforters and sheets are high thread count. That?s important to me. I take any comfort I can. The pool seems nice too. Someday, I?ll have to try it.

I check my watch again. Mr. Great Eyes is later than usual. His day must be a bad one. He?ll want me bad. He always does when he?s had a bad day.

A black car pulls into the hotel parking lot and I step back from the window. It?s him. I know his car well. Sometimes he fucks me in it. He looks nervous as he exits his vehicle. I don?t know why. He?s not married or cheating on anyone. Not that I?d mind if he was. I view my job as just that, a job. Married men come to me. I ask if they?re married. They tell me no. I see the ring line and know they?re lying and I see the way they watch the clock. Their money spends the same as others.

Mr. Great Eyes knocks on the door and I answer on the third rap. I open the door for him and he enters the room. His blonde hair is slicked back tonight. That?s different for him. It?s normally down and touching his expensive shirt collar. He looks edgier like this. I kind of like the change.

He takes in the sight of me as he begins undoing his tie and then the buttons on his white point collar shirt. It?s Egyptian cotton. Only the best for him. Like me. He says I?m the best. I wish I felt something more for him. He seems like a good guy.

I shut the door and turn to face him. ?Hard day at the office?? I ask, already knowing the answer.

?Yes,? he answers swiftly. ?I need something extra tonight.?

He eyes me in a way that tells me what he wants without him having to say it. He doesn?t like saying the words. They make him feel dirty.