me dressed in a tight little black dress, wearing fuck-me pumps, and pulling a gorgeous male model behind me by the necktie he was wearing. Of course, his business suit was one of Barringer's finest. Hayden personally oversees all of the marketing and advertising copy. He's OCD about it actually.
So when he invited me out for a drink after the shoot, I gladly accepted. Drinks then turned into dinner, and eventually . . . breakfast. I can honestly say I did not know that he was married at that time. I learned shortly afterward when he expressed a desire to see me again, even providing me with his private cell number and instructions to leave a message because he never answers it.
I guess maybe I was a bit floored at the time, but of course I tried my best not to show it. I keep my past hidden from everyone, because actually, it's quite uninspired.
I don't come from wealth or privilege. I never knew my father, though my mother assured me that I had one out there . . . somewhere. She couldn't quite remember his name though, but apparently he was special to her, because he was the only one of her regulars that she allowed to disregard the condom code. She said that he paid her $50 more to ride her bareback.
Once I was well underway, she had to give up her career as a pro. She never held that against me, in fact, all things considered, my mother did the best that she could having a child at nineteen-- circumstances being what they were back then.
So, anyway, having been raised by the daughter of a Baptist minister turned whore, and moving sometimes three or four times a year to different trailer parks, kind of made me grow up fast--and wiser for it. . . I think.
I knew that it wouldn't take much to have a better life than Mom, and she always told me that my beauty would see to that; I made sure that it did.
My mother passed away shortly after I turned nineteen. The coroner ruled her death as an accidental overdose, but I knew better. It was suicide, pure and simple. She'd always told me that she was holding a little something back for me, and that when the time was right, I'd get it.
Turned out it was a $50,000 life insurance policy. Inside the locked metal box that contained the policy along with the rest of her important papers, was a registration form for a modeling/acting school located in Philadelphia, just a little over an hour from where we lived at the time.
I knew what she had done. She didn't want me working behind the cosmetics counter at the mall for minimum wage anymore; she wanted me to have better than that. Better than what she had. No matter how I'd come to be, my mother loved me more than she'd ever loved herself.
I smooth my chestnut brown hair in back, and then check my make-up one last time in the lighted vanity mirror and nod. Every hair is in place; my eyebrows tweezed into perfectly shaped arches, make-up flawless.
Hayden is out front of my apartment by now, waiting impatiently to take me to the airport.
I have decided to go to Belize this holiday season. It is one of the tropical places I haven't visited on any of my 'holiday vacations' as Hayden refers to them.
I've packed quite a bit more in my three suitcases this year. I hope that Hayden won't bitch too much when the doorman of my apartment building loads them into the trunk of his Mercedes. It's not as if he has to load them, but still, he will be the one to unload them once we reach the airport.
I slide into the passenger side, leaning over and dutifully kissing him on the lips.
"How long are you staying?" he asks, with a rare smile crossing his lips. "You have a credit card at your disposal you know?"
I smile over at him just as I am expected to do.
"I only packed the bare necessities, love," I respond. "I'll be gone for nearly a month you know, and I don't like to take advantage of your generosity. You do too much for me, Hayden. I don't deserve all that you lavish upon me."
His eyes flicker over me as he pulls his Mercedes from
So when he invited me out for a drink after the shoot, I gladly accepted. Drinks then turned into dinner, and eventually . . . breakfast. I can honestly say I did not know that he was married at that time. I learned shortly afterward when he expressed a desire to see me again, even providing me with his private cell number and instructions to leave a message because he never answers it.
I guess maybe I was a bit floored at the time, but of course I tried my best not to show it. I keep my past hidden from everyone, because actually, it's quite uninspired.
I don't come from wealth or privilege. I never knew my father, though my mother assured me that I had one out there . . . somewhere. She couldn't quite remember his name though, but apparently he was special to her, because he was the only one of her regulars that she allowed to disregard the condom code. She said that he paid her $50 more to ride her bareback.
Once I was well underway, she had to give up her career as a pro. She never held that against me, in fact, all things considered, my mother did the best that she could having a child at nineteen-- circumstances being what they were back then.
So, anyway, having been raised by the daughter of a Baptist minister turned whore, and moving sometimes three or four times a year to different trailer parks, kind of made me grow up fast--and wiser for it. . . I think.
I knew that it wouldn't take much to have a better life than Mom, and she always told me that my beauty would see to that; I made sure that it did.
My mother passed away shortly after I turned nineteen. The coroner ruled her death as an accidental overdose, but I knew better. It was suicide, pure and simple. She'd always told me that she was holding a little something back for me, and that when the time was right, I'd get it.
Turned out it was a $50,000 life insurance policy. Inside the locked metal box that contained the policy along with the rest of her important papers, was a registration form for a modeling/acting school located in Philadelphia, just a little over an hour from where we lived at the time.
I knew what she had done. She didn't want me working behind the cosmetics counter at the mall for minimum wage anymore; she wanted me to have better than that. Better than what she had. No matter how I'd come to be, my mother loved me more than she'd ever loved herself.
I smooth my chestnut brown hair in back, and then check my make-up one last time in the lighted vanity mirror and nod. Every hair is in place; my eyebrows tweezed into perfectly shaped arches, make-up flawless.
Hayden is out front of my apartment by now, waiting impatiently to take me to the airport.
I have decided to go to Belize this holiday season. It is one of the tropical places I haven't visited on any of my 'holiday vacations' as Hayden refers to them.
I've packed quite a bit more in my three suitcases this year. I hope that Hayden won't bitch too much when the doorman of my apartment building loads them into the trunk of his Mercedes. It's not as if he has to load them, but still, he will be the one to unload them once we reach the airport.
I slide into the passenger side, leaning over and dutifully kissing him on the lips.
"How long are you staying?" he asks, with a rare smile crossing his lips. "You have a credit card at your disposal you know?"
I smile over at him just as I am expected to do.
"I only packed the bare necessities, love," I respond. "I'll be gone for nearly a month you know, and I don't like to take advantage of your generosity. You do too much for me, Hayden. I don't deserve all that you lavish upon me."
His eyes flicker over me as he pulls his Mercedes from
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