dropped off Shannon at Marty's door and waited in my car
around the corner. When you run an escort service, it's
better to stay close to the girls, drive them on calls,
make sure everything is cool.
I'm worried. Marty is into S/M. I told him Shannon was just
getting into that, and he said fine. But he usually sees
hardcore doms who know how to shake his shit. I called her
50 minutes later and she said he wanted another hour. Great.
Going well, I figured. Then an hour later she buzzed me
on my cell and said Marty didn't want to pay-up. So now
I have to put the squeeze on.
what's the problem?" I asked, stepping inside his apartment.
Marty, standing barefooted in the living room in sweat pants,
no shirt on, a beer in hand, looked grim. "This is
bullshit. She can't do nothin' I want," he slurred,
weaving about in a drunken stupor.
little late for that," I said. "You've been with
her for two hours."
cause I was trying to tell her what to do for the first
hour," he said, crashing on a couch under a painting
of a windmill.
chimed in. "Well, you seemed to be enjoying yourself."
closed his eyes, threw his head back and stretched his arms
out over the back of the couch. Marty looked about 30, long
brown hair and in pretty good shape, though he did have
a beer gut. In our phone conversations, he frequently talked
about how much money he was making, so I had expected more
lavish quarters than the sparsely furnished room.
glared at me, blinked a few times and said, "I got
a gun in the bedroom. I could shoot you."
far too sophisticated to do that," I replied. "If
you were not satisfied with the arrangement, you should
have let Shannon know as soon as she arrived, not two hours
later. Two hours, may I remind you, during which Shannon
provided you with her time, her company, and I suppose,
her strict instruction. You can't go to a restaurant, order
a four course meal, finish it and then complain about the
fly in the soup and decide not to pay the check." Shannon
rolled her eyes and stifled a laugh. She was standing by
the cabinet. I stepped over next to her. Marty snickered
and stood up, stretching his arms.
did you say?" he asked, blurry eyed.
held out my hand, rubbing my forefinger and thumb together.
"Time to pay Marty. We have to get going. The bill
is eight hundred bucks." (My escort service is high
endfive hundred an hour, but a break on the second
got a gun in the bedroom. I could shoot you."
grumbled under his breath, approached the cabinet, his head
sunk in his chest. "Could you back away a little,"
he said to both of us, motioning with his hands. We stepped
away from the cabinet. He bent down and opened one of the
drawers. For a split second, I panicked, thinking he might
whip out a gun. But as he opened the drawer I saw a pile
of green inside. So did Shannon. The look in her eye said
grab it all, but she knows better.
pulled out a wad of bills, all Jacksons. Approaching Shannon
he drew them off one at a time, frequently pausing, holding
them back with a twitchy smile, each pause demonstrating
his pathetic power over her as he mumbled his dissatisfaction
with the night's events.
picked up a book on S/M he had given her, thanked him for
it and put the money in her purse. We both moved toward
the door. As I opened it, he said, "Wait a moment,
and stepped forward in front of Shannon.
noticed he had one hand behind his back. Again, I thought
it might be his gun. Instead, I watched as he dropped down
on one knee, swung his arm around, held up a bouquet of
roses and gazed at her teary eyed.
placed a motherly hand on his head as he handed her the
flowers. "That's very sweet of you, Marty," she
all posed there for a moment, as if waiting for the shutter
to snap on a portrait: The pimp, the Whore and the John
fallen on his knees.