Picing up the Girls

"So what did you say you were doing here?"

"I didn't. Did I? Guess I didn't at that." The fellow sitting next to Tom at the bar laughed as he realized he had been chatting with the man to his left, about everything under the sun, but had never told him what he was doing in the bar in the first place. For that matter he now realized, his eyes going wide at this thought, that he hadn't even told Tom his name.

Truth is told Tom could have cared less about the name of this man. It wasn't that he didn't find the man to be a nice guy, or for that matter interesting. On the contrary, the fellow was actually kind of a nice diversion, before Tom had to head home. Tom always made it a tradition of sorts to stop at this bar after a business trip before he headed out and got on the subway to go home. He couldn't put his finger on why he did this, the only thing he could think of was that he had met Carol here 14 years earlier, and he thought of it, in a way as his lucky spot.

"Well," said the nameless man to Tom, "since I never told you what my name is, even, I guess it isn't odd I never said what I was doing in this joint." The nameless man as Tom now weirdly thought of him leaned close, and in a conspiratorial way said, "I'm picking up the girls."

"Girls?" said Tom looking over at the guy and then back up at the bars flat-screen TV as the Mets play by play man shouted out a home run call.

"Wow! What a shot!" the nameless man said, looking up as well to watch the ball sail into the outfield stands. Tom and Mr. Nameless had been watching the Mets game for an hour. That had been the starting off point of their conversation, with Tom eventually telling the man he had just came back from London, where he had been on business.

"I think he is gonna hit 45 easy this year," said Mr. Nameless, finally turning back to Tom.

"Could be. At least 40 I would say," Tom answered as he took a final drink from his glass, draining the last of his scotch and soda. "So now you were saying you were, 'picking up the girls,' I'm not sure I follow you." Tom smiled at the gentleman, and called over the bartender.

"Another beer for my friend here," said Tom. "And another scotch and soda for me."

"No Tommy my man let me get this one," protested Mr. Nameless.

"Don't worry about it; you got the last one anyway." Tom of course had, at fact gotten the last round, but he always liked to be generous with others, because he could, of course afford to be. Tom had a lot of success in his business life, and liked to spend money. His friends and colleagues would undoubtedly say this is the reason Tom would be a comfortable man, but never a truly rich one. Tom cared not at all, because life had taught him that being happy and content, having free time and loved ones mattered more than being able to say you were richer than your peers. He was rich enough, and that was enough. If he could become a millionaire by stepping on the other guy, or being a cheapskate, he would have to pass on it.

"Well okay, but next one is mine," said Nameless.

Tom smiled and looked up at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. He saw a man of 36 who, he was pleased to note still was in decent shape, with all his hair and only a little salt thrown into lots of dark pepper. The man next to him looked at least 10 years older, but he suspected he was the same age as Tom, but was simply stressed to the point of collapse. Most guys Tom's age in his circle of friends had begun to show wear and tear, but they kept their bodies in good shape to compensate for the lines and premature gray that had crept in. Tom found it funny that some of his peers in his line of work could beat him at racket-ball, but never got the looks from the younger girls in the health club he did. Tom knew he looked good, and it was in no small degree because he was always relaxed and calm. It was his home life with Carol that was the reason, but none of his friends and acquaintances could have guessed why.

"Um ... so you were saying about girls," said Tom resuming the topic of discussion so quickly forgotten.

Mr. Nameless slapped his head I could have had a V-8 style, and said, "Yes! That's right!" He laughed at his own joke and Tom chuckled to knowing just what Mr. Nameless meant with his gesture.

"Well Tommy," Nameless leaned close, "it's like this: Escorts you know. Get it?"

Tom got it of course, and was intrigued to hear more, if for no other reason than that this story might spice up his reunion with his wife Carol later.

"I get it. So tell me more," said Tom.

"Fucking sister's man, can you believe it?" Nameless stage whispered unnecessarily. It was unnecessary because there were only five people in the bar and they were in booths. And the bartender was of the type Tom knew instantly, that would look the other way for anything short of homicide.

"Sister's huh? Wow!" said Tom giving the other man his impressed look. The one he sometimes used for his business associates when they told him about their new car or boat or mistress.

"I looked all over the net, and contacted seven services," continued Nameless. "I wanted twins, but nobody has any working in the city, and I want a date -- if you know what I mean -- here, away from my wife and kids. I come from the west coast once a year. Tops! So it had to be now."

Tom nodded and sipped his drink. "So no twins huh?"

"Not one set working as whores in this town. What is this world coming to?" Nameless laughed mirthlessly. "But at least I finally found a couple of sisters working for Principled. Ever hear of 'em?"

Tom had indeed, heard of them. He occasionally had some out of town business associates that felt the need to fuck another girl other than their wife, while away in the city, and Principled, was always a good bet. Tom nodded to let Mr. Nameless know he was hip to the escort service he had named.

"Well the girls they got are only a year apart, and they assured me they look a lot alike, so I guess if I squint I can imagine they are twins." Nameless laughed again. It was another mirthless, almost mean spirited laugh.

Both men went back to watching the game and chatting about the Mets chances this year.

Mr. Nameless' eyes looked a little glassy by the time he mentioned the girls again.

"Where the fuck are these two cunts?" said Nameless. "It's getting late."

Tom held up a hand. "Whoa, calm down. I don't think language like that is needed."

Mr. Nameless looked around, and nodded, obviously thinking Tom meant that he might offend someone listening, rather than the truth, which was simply that Tom didn't approve of calling ladies names outside of a sexual context. Tom thought to himself, let him think anything he wants, but I don't want to hear him call some poor girl trying to make some cash, a cunt.

Nameless looked up at Tom and said, "Yeah, never know what tight assed feminist bitch might be eavesdropping."

Tom winced but said nothing, thinking about his feminist studies teaching wife at home.

"Well let's at least kill some time, what's your story?" said Nameless.

Tom looked up and said, "Oh you know the usual one."

"Nah that is something I always find is bull. No one has a usual story."

Tom began his story -- so to speak -- just as he always did. With the big part first.

"Well, I got my girlfriend Gwen pregnant when I was 16, she was 15, and neither of us knew shit about raising a kid. But my parents said a child needs a mom and dad, and then they said, 'Do you love Gwen?' and I said yes of course. We got married when she was 6 months pregnant with Alison."

Nameless whistled low, and said, "See, I told you no one has the usual story."

"Guess not," continued Tom. "Gwen and I moved in with my mom and dad, and we both kept up our schooling. I went to college eventually and got my degree, and then I said to my dad we can make it on my own. But he wasn't having any of that, and said I had to get my masters and then I could get lost. Well I got my masters, and then I took my wife Gwen and our two daughters, and moved out.

"I know. Where did the other daughter come from? Well the usual place, Gwen was pregnant again about a month after Alison was born and nine months later, we had Terri -- short for Theresa -- at which point, Gwen refused to have any more kids and went right on the pill, that's for sure.

"Things were looking up for me and Gwen and the girls, except for the fact that Gwen hated her life and we went about five years without having sex until I began to check out some local communities. I found I really fit in, in the BDSM sexual world. I wanted to share that with Gwen, and I hoped maybe it would turn out to be what we needed. You know ... a change of lifestyle."

Tom looked at the fellows face and saw he was totally not expecting this turn of a tale.

Tom continued: "Well needless to say I was dead wrong, because it wasn't that Gwen hated our sex life, and was bored. It wasn't that she even just hated fucking me. It was her whole fucking life she hated. You could have knocked me over with a feather. I was floored. I had no basis of understanding here. When I told her about wanting to try a D/s relationship with her, she laughed, and told me that might work if she even wanted any kind of relationship.

"So Gwen up and left me like I was a bad dream. She said so long to the girls, and then, poof, gone. I haven't heard from her in all the years since. She has never even called the girls or sent a card on their birthdays. It wasn't easy to do, but after a while the girls got over the mothers' abandonment at least to a degree.

"Try to tell two girls of 7 and 8 that their mom didn't leave because she hated them. Then try to explain that she left because she hated Daddy. That's an easy one.

"But it all got better almost at once. This is why I always say, things tend to get better no matter what happens, because within three months of Gwen leaving I met Carol right here in this bar. She was looking for a D/s relationship, and thought she was more into the idea of a less experienced Dom. Someone she could grow with. Well we grew. She was hot, sexy, submissive, and loving toward my two daughters. And within a year we were married." Tom leaned back and sipped his scotch and soda, and looked at his new friend Mr. Nameless and laughed because the guy had his mouth hanging open.

"Now that's a story and a half," said Nameless. "So you and your wife still together pal?"

"Yup."

Nameless nodded, and then said, "Okay, that's great, but how do you do like ... you know ... whips and chains stuff with little kids around?"

"It isn't that hard, you just try to be discrete is all. My wife is my slave most of the time, but we cover in front of our kids and our Vanilla friends. Of course it is easier now that the girls have moved out and gone to college."

"You live in the city?" said Nameless.

"Brooklyn. Nice three bedrooms, the girls grew up there, but when they went to school they decided they would get an apartment in the city, close to school."

"Where they going?" Nameless said looking up at the post game, then down at his watch.

"NYU. They got an apartment in the city with a couple of other girls they said," Tom answered. "Still can't wait for those visits though, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah," said Nameless, "it is always rough to let them go. When my kids moved out I was the same."

Mr. Nameless looked once more at his watch and Tom said almost in a totally offhand way, "So pal, how are you supposed to know these girls when they get here, anyway?" It was strange for Tom to ask this he would later think, because he knew exactly how Principled did business, from past experience with business associates.

"The service sent me Pix of the girls, and they have one of me. Want to check them out?"

Tom shrugged and thought why not.

"Sure pal, show me these fine young ladies," Tom said leaning in as Nameless took his cell out and called up the Pix of his two whore sister's.

"Ah, here they are," said Nameless holding up the phone.

Tom's breath caught, his eyes narrowed and he looked up at the other man.

The look in his eyes caused the smiling Mr. Nameless to gulp begin to feel a little worried. This was the look a guy gave you if he was going to hit you.

"What's the matter Tommy? You know these sluts's?" said Nameless with a stutter.

Tom sat and took in the picture of the two young girls and felt his stomach do a flip, and was in fact very close to punching his friend Mr. Nameless, or at least getting his name finally, and going to his home wherever that was and telling his wife he was fucking other woman on his business trips. But then he began to calm, and almost saw the humor in this situation.

Tom was staring down at two very sexy young girls he knew to be 18 and 19 years old. He knew this because the two whores in the picture hugging each other close to fit in the shot, pressing their breasts against each other, were in fact his two daughters. Tom reached out and took the phone from his new friends hand and deleted the picture as he looked on.

For a moment Nameless had almost protested, but then again looking at this other mans face, thought better of saying anything.

Nameless suddenly saw the light. "Are these whor—girls ... your daughters?"

Tom nodded.

"Can you leave?" said Tom, and as the other man protested, he held up his hand and said, "How much for your trouble?"

Mr. Nameless thought, then said, "Eight thousand."

Fifteen minutes and six thousand dollars later, Tom sat in a booth and watched the door as two girls, who if they weren't escort girls, anyone seeing them would have said that they were trying really hard to look the part, walked in and looked around the room while one of them looked at her cell phone. Tom could see it was Alison looking at her cell, presumably looking at the secret order number Mr. Nameless had been given by Principled. A number Tom now had written down.

Both girls looked incredibly sexy, Tom took note, in super short mini-dresses that hugged the girls' curves like a second skin. Their legs looked perfect and slim; both girls the same petite build, with natural tit's that Tom knew the young girl lovers would go for in spades. He could see that both girls did not wear bra's, and he had to admit, they seemed to not need them, with their perky 34 b breasts obviously not having the least sag at all to them.

Tom noted that Alison wore blue, Terri in red. Both girls' favorite colors. They wore their hair down, stretching almost too each girls finely rounded ass. The girls were both brunette and both about 5 feet 2 inches in height. Tom had to admit you could almost fool yourself into thinking they might be twins.

But a good look at the girls' faces put this thought to the lie. Alison had a very much rounder face, like her mother, while Terri had her dad's square face.

And Ally (as Tom usually called her) had ice blue eyes while Terri had emerald green.

The girls looked around and noticed many admiring stares from the few men that sat both at the bar and in the booths lining the walls of the dark lounge. They were used to this when they wore their costumes -- as they had come to think of their dating outfits -- out in public. Ally loved all the attention, and smiled inwardly, while Terri always found herself a little creeped out by it.

Terri on the one hand, found it creepy, but of course she had no guilt or illusions about her and her sisters' occupation. They were escorts, paid to look hot and sexy, but also available. But she simply didn't revel in it like Ally always did.

Looking casual, Terri said to her sis, "Maybe we should hang at the bar 'til he recognizes us?"

Ally smiled her assent. This had happened before. Lots of times a guy would wait until it looked like a regular pick-up at the bar before he would approach them and buying them a drink, would slide a piece of paper with the company's order number on it across to one girl or the other.

Ally and Terri walked toward the bar, already getting ready to fish their exquisite phony ID's out of their hand bags.

"Ally, Terri!" a voice called from the darkest corner of the lounge.

Both young girls turned toward the voice, thinking well it is nice not to have to sit at the bar and pretend to drink (both girls hated alcohol in reality) but would be able to get right to business.

A business that, truth be told, both girls loved: Fucking.

Both of the young girls, walked into the dark corner and then stood open mouthed staring at their own father.

Though he sat in shadow, Tom was able to see the girls walking toward him the whole time, as they strolled over, so he knew immediately that they had not recognized his voice. He quickly also saw that they couldn't see him from where they had been, and their eyes still needed some adjustment time, because they had what he recognized as their sexy slut smiles on their faces. Tom had never seen that look on his daughters' faces before, but he sure knew it when he saw it.

Tom's last thought before the girls got close enough to see his face was how in the world it didn't occur to his daughters to use fake names. They had turned at the sound of their names; he would have to talk to them about that, Tom chuckled to himself.

As his little girls stopped in front of his table and saw him, they quickly lost their sexy whore smiles, and both girls' mouths hung open and they began to sputter and talk at the same time.

"D—Daddy, um wow," Ally said.

"Ah! Oh god, D—Daddy, w—what are you doing here?" Terri sputtered at the same moment.

"What's wrong girls? Not happy to see Daddy? I could ask you the same question, Terri." Tom spoke softly, not at all like he was angry, which in fact was the case, but he wanted to play with his girls a little before he went in for the kill, so to speak.

"Of course we're happy to see you Daddy," Ally quickly offered, gathering her wits ad sliding into the booth on her fathers' right side. Terri looked somewhat more off put, and Tom knew she was always slower to calm her self than her sister, but she also, after a beat or two, slid into the booth on her fathers other side.

Tom put his arms around the slim shoulders of his daughter's and pulled them close to him for a quick hug and a peck on each girls cheek.

Ally and Terri felt the blood going from their faces and looked around the room, desperately hoping the client had not shown up, and wouldn't be walking up too them as their father held them and began to give them the order number for their call services. Their father released the girls and looked at each and smiled so warmly they felt almost at ease -- well almost that is.

"So can Daddy buy his girls a Coke or something?" said Tom.

"Okay Daddy," said Ally.

"That sounds nice Daddy. I am a little thirsty," Terri said softly.

Tom waved over the roaming cocktail waitress walking by, and ordered three soft drinks, one for him; because he felt he had had enough alcohol anyway. Tom looked at his daughter's still nervously looking around to see if a john would walk up to the booth, having recognized their faces from the photo sent to them by Principled.

"You girls didn't want anything stronger did you? After all you are under aged and I assume my daughters' wouldn't be going around with fake ID's." Tom enjoyed watching them squirm; it was almost getting to be fun. He watched both girls shaking their heads no; of course they would never drink before 21. Both girls assured him they were just stopping in the bar to meet a friend.

This came from Ally, and Terri gave her sister a desperate look trying to convey to her sister the possible folly of saying they are meeting someone, when the someone is a man to have sex with.

On her part Ally just had nothing else, and so she ran with this describing in vivid detail to her father, how they were meeting a girl from school named Candy, and that they were going to go to a club to listen to a new band that Candy told them about, and maybe Candy got held up and Ally should go outside and call her to see if she was still coming.