Page 6 of Escorting the CEO
Intrigued, I read the comments.
More money than I ever made in an office.
I can finally pay my bills.
These men will change your life, but you have to play the game.
I’m stuffing every dollar into a Roth IRA. I’ll be retired by 30.
There are escort agencies in every major city…
I should have put my phone away. Hell, I should’ve become a professional athlete or a nurse anesthetist. Somehow. Overnight.
If it were possible, I would have done it. But it wasn’t.
So, instead, I kept reading.
I spentthe rest of the evening online. By the time my phone battery died, I was shaky. It was a crazy idea, but honestly—what else could I do? I’d already resorted to talking to strangers on an app. Was being an escort that different?
Yes,said the voice in my head. But if it meant saving my family from losing everything…
Of course, there were no escort agencies in upstate New York. The closest one I’d found was in Manhattan, with its headquarters in Boston. I’d brazenly filled out their contact form and hitsend. Probably nothing would come from it, but at least I’d done something.
I couldn’t sleep that night. Images of a foreclosure notice being tacked to our door, Josie and Bo being forced to sleep in our car, and my poor grandmother saying goodbye to her beloved chickens haunted me. So I turned on my light and read my library book, historical fiction, until the wee hours. Then I proceeded to toss and turn in my bed.
The next morning, I woke up to three new text messages.
This is Elena from the AccommoDating agency.
We received your message.
We would like to discuss an opportunity with you.
An opportunity?I sat up straight, looking at the clock—she’d just sent me the message five minutes ago. I took a deep breath and wrote back:
Thank you for responding.
I’d love to hear more.
Three blinking dots appeared before my very eyes.
I’m heading into the office now. Can we do a video conference?
10 a.m.
Please send photos—head shots and full body images.
I immediately sent the pictures, which I’d prepared for the app. Pictures of me smiling, pictures of me with a sexy pout, pictures of me in short-shorts and high heels. They weren’t very professional, and neither was I, but I prayed Elena would think I was perfect for whatever “opportunity” she had in mind, even though I was scared.
At promptly ten a.m., I was seated at my desk, my ring light shining down on me. The video call came through, and I was face-to-face with a proper-looking woman in her mid-forties. She had short hair, trendy glasses, an attractive face, and maroon lipstick framing bright white teeth.
“I’m Elena, the owner of the agency. You must be Rory.”
“Hi, Elena. It’s nice to meet you.” I swallowed hard.
“Thank you for the pictures. You’re a very attractive young woman,” she said. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-two.”
