42nd Avenue [h.s]

Chapter Two - Client One.

A bright red bikini tugged tightly at my hips with the top-half barely covering my breasts as I walked out of the dark private room and into the mood-lighting of the locker room.

"Smile," John laughed from the doorframe, "He loved you."

"That's because I'm brilliant, but we knew that already!" I jokingly replied, opening my locker to grab my cover-up before draping it over my shoulders "Did you need something?"

"I need you to open your availability," He smiles, kindly, "The demand for you right now is insane, Kemper. I keep receiving calls from all your private showing clients who are keen for another date."

"Oh," I blush politely. "Really? I thought I had too many rules for you guys?"

In a way, I did. I wouldn't ever swallow, no penetration and no kissing. I was purely a hand job, blowjob and strip dance kind of girl. I used to be much less strict but have set a few boundaries as time passes and I've become more confident in my skills, and more comfortable in myself.

"They don't seem to mind, whether they think they can score the second, third or so on time around, they want more of you."

"I'm already here 6 days a week, John." I remind, closing my locker door after grabbing the last redbull I had.

"Just extend your hours, then? You can still have your Sunday's off, but how do you feel about 12-hour shifts?"

"I don't know-"

"Overtime pay for 1 of them, double time?" He interjects.

"12 hours of overtime?" I quiz, looking at him to catch his bluff.

"We're low on staff, anyway. You bring in the most cash, I'm willing to toy with our margins."

"Okay." I was quick to answer, imagining how much easier it would be with a whole 12 hours of double time, plus tips.

"Excellent, Kemper!" John cheers, throwing up a fist pump into the air and trailing off down the corridor in excitement.

I pierce open the can and take a few sips in hopes to energise myself mildly before my next show, another private client. I was exhausted, the consequences of staying late last night reminding me how tired I actually was but I needed to put it behind me and land myself some extra cash from tips. I've heard the next client has big bucks; he wasn't so shy to mention it in his booking which had me wondering how far I should go for him. I could probably stand there and look pretty, and he'd pay.

I tighten the bikini top around my chest so that my breasts were perfectly pushed together and lathered on some massage oil just on the tops of them, allowing them to glisten in the low-lit private consultation room. It was the little touches I found to pay well. I peer down the hallway to see the light turn on outside my private room, indicating that the client has now sat on the chair and is ready for my arrival. I took a few deep breaths before strutting down the hallway in the god-awful stilettos we're required to wear. My hand holds the door-handle for a little bit longer as I gather my thoughts, ready to eliminate them from my mind.

"Holy shit." The raspy voice grumbles as I open the door.

I smile to myself as I close the door behind me, my ass on full display to the client as I tease a little bend. The room is super dark, much darker than the previous client had it. They're allowed to set their own lighting before they come in. You either get the men that want essentially spotlights so that they can see everything, or ones that prefer a dimly lit room to set the scene for them.

"Holy shit." The voice speaks again, and I can hear him adjust in his chair.

"You said that already." I tease, turning myself around and making my way over to the man.