Elizabeth Grayson pulled into a space on the second level of the Greektown parking garage. She felt lucky to find a spot so easily with the Red Wings playing at home on a Saturday night. She fished her phone from her purse and double checked Tina's text message.
8:00pm Rm 2523 John
She wondered if johns who called themselves "John" when they booked dates thought they were clever, or if they were just obtuse.
She put her phone back in her purse and got out of the car. The air was damp and it was getting colder. Her red halter dress didn't provide much warmth; the hemline was three inches above her knees, and stockings were too much hassle on a date. She never wore them, unless, of course, a client requested them. She did have her leather jacket on, though, and she zipped it up all the way.
Even though it was only one flight down to the street, she took the elevator. Four inch heels were a nuisance, particularly in the winter, but they were an occupational necessity.
Luckily, there has been very little snow lately, and when she emerged on to Monroe Street the sidewalks were clear.
She had about a half hour before "John" was expecting her, so she strolled up the street, through the throngs of dinner goers and hockey fans, to the Astoria Pastry Shop. The line was short and she had plenty of time to enjoy an espresso and a couple of almond macaroons.
She found a seat by the window, and as she ate her cookies, checked out her reflection in the glass. Her hair looked good, just the right amount of mussed. She thought her lipstick might need a little touching up, but she could do that once she got to the room.
At 7:50 she got up from the table, straightened her dress, and walked across the street to the casino.
A group that looked like conventioneers and their wives were walking in, and she slipped into their midst as she passed through the lobby. It was always best to keep a low profile, hotel security looked closely at well dressed single women.
As the conventioneers filed into the main room, she veered off and walked to the hotel elevators. One was open and she slipped in behind an elderly couple. Just as the doors were closing, a bellman stuck his arm through, held them open and pushed in a luggage cart.
"Excuse me, sorry, excuse me," he muttered. Elizabeth stepped back to give him room.
He looked at her, then let his eyes travel down her body. He gave her a nod, as if the two of them were sharing a secret.
You might think you know something, she thought, but you don't know that you know.
She only hoped that he would reach his floor before the old folks did, and she got her wish when the elevator stopped at the tenth floor.
The couple got off four floors later, and she was alone. There was a mirror above the control panel, and she checked her face. No, the lipstick was fine.
She got off at twenty five and walked down the hall in the direction of room 2523. She checked the time on her phone. It was 8:03. Perfect. She had a theory that you should always be just a few minutes late. Enough to make them eager, not enough to make them mad.
She found the room and softly knocked on the door. She heard muffled sounds from inside and the door opened.
The man standing before her was tall, slightly stoop shouldered. His hair looked uncombed and he had dark circles under his eyes.
He looked Elizabeth over, then nodded and said "Alright, good, come in."
Rather than hold the door for her, he turned and walked over to the far corner and sat down in the room's only easy chair.
Elizabeth closed the door and stepped into the room, sizing it up quickly. Typical hotel room; bathroom by the door, bed, side tables, dresser, table and chair. The curtains were drawn shut.
"Your money is right there on the dresser," the man said.
Elizabeth glanced over and noted that it looked right. She never counted money in front of the client, too many of them were annoyed by that.
She glanced over to the bed and felt a sick sensation in her stomach.
"Looks like you brought a few toys," she said, keeping her voice calm.
"Yeah, thought we'd, uh, have some fun," the man said in a low, gruff voice.
She took a step toward the bed and looked more closely. There was a set of leather cuffs, a wooden paddle and a riding crop, neatly laid out next to a small suitcase.
She didn't mind if a customer wanted to be dommed, but that was extra, and Tina had said nothing about it. She reached down and flipped open the suitcase. It held a jumbled collection of nipple clamps, clothespins and candles. There was a blindfold and a ball gag and a collar on a leash. Underneath all the other items there was a tangle of rope.
Elizabeth bent down, as if studying the contents of the suitcase, looked over at the man and winked.
She picked up one of the wrist cuffs and examined it more closely. It was small, it would not fit the client's arms. She pretended to study the other items for a moment, taking the time to steady her composure.
She put the cuff back on the bed, smiled at the client, then raised her left leg and slipped off her shoe. As she shifted to raise her other foot, she looked at him and feigned a worried expression.
"You, um, you look like the kind of man who has a really big dick,' she told him, tilting her head to one side and biting her lip.
He rubbed his hand over his crotch and said, "Yeah, it's big, I guess."
"Could I see it, just, you know, so I know what to expect?"
He shrugged, stood up and unbuckled his belt. Elizabeth watched as he slowly pulled it free of its loops, and doubled it in his fist.
Oh, that's perfect, Elizabeth thought.
With his other hand, he pushed his pants and threadbare jockey shorts down to his knees.
Elizabeth opened her eyes wide, looking at his very average penis. "Oh, my god, that is a huge dick. Let me go to the bathroom and then we can have some fun, okay?"
"May I please go to the bathroom, sir," he growled.
Elizabeth dropped her head and put on a pout. "Oh. Yes. May I please go to the bathroom, sir?"
"Be quick about it, bitch."
"Yes, sir."
She turned, pushed her purse strap high on her shoulder and began walking toward the bathroom, gripping her shoes tightly in her left hand. When she reached the bathroom, she started to turn, looked back to see the client pulling his shirt over his head, then opened the room door and ran out into the hall, slamming the door behind her.
She grabbed the hem of her dress with her free hand and pulled it up to her hips as she ran down the corridor toward the elevators. She figured that if he decided to come after her, by the time he could get his pants back up, she'd have a decent head start.
All four elevators were at other floors, so she pushed open the stairwell door and vaulted down, taking the steps two at a time.
She flew down one flight, then another, intending to stop there, but adrenaline was coursing through her and she kept going until she was out of breath.
Eliabeth staggered to the stairwell door. Seventeen. Jesus, she had run down eight flights.
She leaned on the door until she had regained her composure and her breathing returned to normal. After putting her shoes on, she opened the door a crack and looked out.
