I was in my junior year at a large university in one of the Southern states. Two other girls -- another junior and a senior -- shared an apartment with me. Samantha, who was the oldest, had come up with the idea of us making some extra money through an unusual kind of escort service.
She had gotten to know the night manager at a luxury hotel, one of the most elaborate in the city. She was screwing the guy on a regular basis, and had learned that the majority of the hotel's customers were well-heeled people, corporate executives traveling on business, and pretty often on unlimited expense accounts as well. This was a number of years ago, I should say. Most of them were older men that liked the opportunity of getting laid in a strange city, particularly by someone young, classy, and discreet.
Well, Samantha's fuck buddy Hal thought we three girls filled the bill. He suggested that for a percentage he would arrange for us to meet some of these high-class guys, usually at night. With our looks, he said, we could command top dollar.
Not that I was hurting for money, personally. My mother was an executive with a large insurance company, and my father was a vice-president with a manufacturing firm. They had gone through a friendly divorce years ago, both being more interested in their careers than each other. My father had relocated to a Northern city where his company was headquartered. That was far enough away that I hadn't seen much of him since then, although he called me frequently and sent me money as well. But usually I went home to my mother during school breaks.
Anyhow, I was financially comfortable. It was more the excitement of Hal's proposal that caused me to readily agree. It was not that I didn't have an active social life -- and sex life -- but the idea of screwing these older guys was kind of kinky and sounded like fun. Irina, my other roommate, just laughed and said "Shit, Kathy, we give it a shot!"
Quite frankly, the first two or three times that Hal set up appointments for me, I was sort of nervous. The guys were in their fifties, one of them sixty-something, and they were horny as hell. I had gone out and bought some special clothes beforehand, including some lacy panties to wear with a garter belt, stockings, and high heels, all black, and the first guy I was with started to shoot his load before I had finished undressing! He wasn't able to get it up again for me (as I said, this was some years back), but he ended up licking me to a very nice climax "to make it up to me." So that was all right. I felt much more secure about the whole business after that.
Hal had made it a point to get to know these guys -- the prospects -- that were regulars at the hotel. After letting them know that he could make a connection for them, he would give us a call at the apartment. Then one of us would go over to the hotel and up to the guy's room. Sometimes there would be work for two of us on the same night, but not very often.
Hal called up this one night a little later than usual for a "setup", as he called it. He said he had a client that had just gotten in, some guy who had heard about the hotel's "special delights" through the general corporate executive grapevine. Samantha was "indisposed", and Irina was studying for a tough exam the next day -- she was a pre-med and here on an education visa, and had a difficult schedule, so she answered fewer calls than Samantha and I did. So I was at bat, as Hal said.
I freshened up and put on one of my generic slut outfits, since the customer hadn't asked for anything special like a maid's or girl's private school uniform. (Most of these men have live-in maids in their mansions and daughters away at private schools.) I started with a pair of black lace bikini panties like the ones I had worn on the first job, except with a slit all the way from front to back, followed by a black garter belt and some lovely dark stockings which I fastened to the belt. A thin maroon blouse, a tight black leather skirt, and black spike heels, with appropriate makeup, hot but not too whorish, finished off my look.
I drove over to the hotel and parked in the employee's parking lot out back. Hal had some deal worked out so that the clients could put our fees on their credit cards without the corporate auditors suspecting anything was funny. I never really understand how he managed that, but it worked. In addition, we usually got some pretty hefty tips from our "dates" as well. My guy's room number was up on the tenth floor, and I caught the elevator that the hotel's service personnel used, at the end of a hallway off the main lobby. That kept me mostly out of sight of the other guests and consequently out of trouble.
While on the elevator going up to the tenth floor, I was thinking that it was going to be nice not to have to screw some old guy this time, based on what Hal had told me: young (for an executive, probably late forties), good-looking (ditto), probably the generous type. I have to admit that I was particularly horny that evening, having just come off being "indisposed" myself, and was itching for some action.
I was beginning to get little wet just thinking about the coming event. Maybe "event of coming" would be more like it, I thought to myself. I just hoped the guy would be able to perform. Some clients just wanted to cuddle up to a young woman, or were only interested in a blow-job -- I give particularly good head, but there just wasn't that much in it for me. Except the tip, of course.
I had seen a couple of guys, older ones, in the hallway downstairs and they had really given me the once-over, undressing me with their eyes. For a minute I thought they were going to follow me into the elevator, and I wondered if maybe one of them was my "date" for the evening. Or maybe both of them. I had never had a threesome either on the job or in my real life, but I thought that one of these days I might get the chance. It would be fun.
The slow and creaky elevator finally reached the tenth floor, and I stepped out into the quiet and dimly lit hallway. I quickly found my way to room 1034, which was at one end of the hallway. I gave the usual signal that Hal and we three had agree on: three groups of three quick knocks each. My client was obviously expecting me, because he opened the door instantly and I quickly brushed past him and into the room. The front hall of the apartment was fairly dark, and the room lighting itself was dimmed.
I turned to look at the male figure still standing by the door, clad only in a pair of white briefs. The hint of his strangely familiar aftershave reached my nostrils about the time he and I got a good look at each other's faces. Both our exclamations of surprise and recognition came at the same moment:
"Kathy!"
"Daddy!"
His eyes were as wide as mine felt. It had been over a year since we had last seen each other. My hair then was its natural light brown and shoulder length; now I was a short, tousled blonde. I suddenly was conscious that my knees were weak and I was staring at him in shock.
