Dance Me To The Moon [Sebastian Vettel]

1. Queer

She looked at the reflection in the car's window and adjusted her breasts again in the deep V shaped neckline.

Stop fussing , she told herself. Not exactly risqué, but with more cleavage on display than anticipated, a wardrobe malfunction would definitely not be a good look after so much attention was put on her outfit for the evening. Discreet but not conservative had been the request. In other words - hot but not trashy.

They validated it anyway, not her fault.

Pretending not to see the driver glancing at her through the rear view mirror, she checked the window reflection once more. The messy updo hairstyle was holding well, only a few pieces of straight dark brown dangling in the front as intended.

The radio played at low volume an old song from Garbage; outside, the scenery changed from bright lights and busy streets across the small principality of Monaco to a narrower road. The car came to a stop only a few metres ahead in another extravagant square and her stomach did a small summersault. She swallowed, lifting her chin and straightening her posture. Waiting for the door to open to step out, she smoothed down her gown, clutch bag tightly held with both hands. Ignoring the many camera flashes going off from the photographers jostled behind a small barrier, she went straight to the entrance.

Heads turned. She was aware of how desirable she looked; men liked her body and in that tight, black beaded mermaid gown, her figure was showcased perfectly.

For an escort, sessions that paid as well as this one didn't come by often and she fought tooth and nail to land this contract. Nonetheless, nothing ever came without a price. The mile long non disclosure agreement in addition to the regular paperwork was enough to be slightly unsettling but it wasn't uncommon with a certain type of clients - usually wealthy and with an army of lawyers ready to deny any involvement in certain activities. It was relatable. She also had no wish of having these engagements somehow compromising her daily life.

More concerning was the fact that the contract did not specify the services to be provided. It was fairly straightforward in the sense that the client was to be accompanied in a high profile event in motorsport, which included a dinner. That was standard. But beyond that there was very little, which left her with an uncomfortably open deal in her hands. In fact, there was only a short list of things that were not part of the package - the basics that ensured her safety and nothing more.

The blonde lady that had conducted the interview in the final stage of the recruitment was inside, just past the gates as previously agreed, looking very glamorous in a black dress but still very professional. It was obvious she worked directly with the client, either as personal assistant or in a similar capacity.

"Good evening, Ms. Roeske," she greeted, extending her hand. The lady had only been introduced to her like that, no first names had been exchanged.

Ms. Roeske leaned over to greet her with two kisses on the cheek. "You're late," she said. "Good evening, Rio."

"There was traffic, I'm sorry," she tried her best apologetic face, despite the fact that it had not been her fault at all. "Have you been waiting for long?"

She glanced around instinctively, to check for anyone waiting, but for little purpose because in here lied the other most intriguing aspect of this deal: she didn't know who her client was.

Normally, an escort had to be informed in advance, it was necessary to sanction the client. But one of the main conditions for this job was to accept that they'd only know his identity when they met in person on the day of the event. Not just no name, but also no occupation, no age range, no indication in regards to what type of companionship he wanted for the evening, even more vague in terms of sexual preferences.