Whitney can be any one you like. Cleo, Spice, Cherry, Scarlett, Lacy, Brandy, Angle, Ginger, Aspen or Trixie depending on which of her A-list celeb clients book her. She keeps her list short, only ten clients, but they have all been chosen very care...
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"Thank you for everything, Aspen, truly," her client says and he zips up the back of her dress. "It's a pleasure as always," she says putting her earring back in then turning to face him. "Are you sure you don't want a goodbye cheque or anything?" he asks. Aspen laughs and shakes her head. "No. Good luck and I hope everything works out for you," she says picking up her bag. "Would I be able to contact you? If it does not work out I mean," he says. "I am afraid not. Once your contract is canceled I delete everything including Aspen - it's like she never existed and my visits will soon feel like just a figment of your imagination," Aspen explains. "Part of me is not sure I want to get married now," her client says putting in his coat. "Nonsense. Go live your life, get married and have fun," she says kissing him on the cheek and then walking out the hotel room door. She liked that client and hopes he has a successful marriage.
She is down to only eight clients, seven maybe - she hasn't decided what to do about Austin yet. She hopes Harry does not phone her again and that everything has worked out for him. She doubts it though. But she hasn't heard from him for about eight months so maybe his business worked out. Her most common client is Marshal and she likes that. He is fun and funny, but does not cross any of her boundaries. He has made it clear that if she ever wanted more he would happily keep her - but he does not push. She is on her way to meet him at a hotel across town now and is looking forward to it. He always makes her feel safe and happy. She is not going to replace the clients she lost and will maybe even cut a few more loose. She has built up enough assets to never work again so maybe it's time for a smaller client list. The buzzing of her phone breaks her train of thought as she arrives at Marshal's hotel so she picks it up and unlocks it then stares at the message.
Trixie. Can you come for a visit? A weekend. Austin
She does not know what to do. She thought he would give her more time. It's only been two weeks and his visits are normally a month apart. She can't bring herself to cancel the contract, she should though. He crossed a major line. If it was anyone else even Marshal she would have. But, then again she has never even been tempted to tell anyone else her real name. What she is doing is so unfair to him, the longer she lets this go on the stronger his feelings for her will grow. She looks down when her phone buzzes again.
Please, baby. I won't cross any lines.
Do you promise?
I swear to you.
Ok. When?
This weekend.
Today is Friday.
I know. Meet me at my place tonight.
Ok. But this is your last chance. I mean it.
Ok, baby. xxx
He is already crossing the line by calling her baby and if she had any sense she would block him and cancel her contract, but instead she gives in to him. She puts her phone in her bag and knocks on Marshal's door. She jumps when the door opens quickly and Marshal appears with his phone to his ear. He does not look happy, but kisses her cheek and waves her in. He is fighting with the person on the other end of the phone. Cleo walks in and sits on the end of the bed quietly as Marshal paces around the room. "Fuck you and fuck the industry. I don't need you. You are selling me bullshit. I am not a fucking idiot," he spits into the phone. Cleo smiles to herself. Marshal's one of the most influential rappers out there, people fall at his feet. Big record labels and industry lawyers are forever banging down his door wanting a piece of the pie. She had met him many years ago, he had been her first client. His team had hired her to keep him out of trouble because he had been a bit of a loose cannon. Cocky, arrogant, and an asshole - it was the only sales pitch his team could go with because Marshal refused to be who he was not. He had stupid bleached hair when they met and was rough around the edges but over time he had grown up. He has softened somewhat and is now sporting brown hair and a thick beard. She prefers him like this. As he had gotten bigger and more famous he never sold himself out and always stood his ground. He is what he is - take him or leave him, he does not care. "I told you, I am not going to any fucked up bullshit award ceremony. I don't need any pats on the back from any fat fuck in a fancy office that has never written a song and can't hold a note. You want music? You want sales? You want to make money? You get all that from me so get off my back about the shit I don't want to do," he shouts into the phone.
