Grace Unchained

11: The Penthouse

Suzanne was Yasna Group's hair stylist and all around aesthetician. She worked out of the third floor salon with Kristina, who was in charge of wardrobe. Both were elegant women in their fifties, and between the two of them they could turn a girl who looked like she'd just rolled out of bed after a night of drinking into a runway model in only a few hours. Suzanne had spent almost three just on her hair the day before, in preparation for her appointment with Marcus.

This time, however, it only took an hour. Suzanne blew out her hair and tied it back in a ponytail, of all things, while Kristina selected a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a hoodie.

"Um," said Grace, looking at herself in the mirror. "I look like I'm about to shoot an episode of Teen Mom."

"That's the idea," said Kristina. Grace could never decide whether it was the woman's thick Russian accent or her expression that made her seem more like a fascist dictator, but either way it made her want to do what she was told. "Client likes American school girls."

Something curdled in Grace's stomach. Ugh. She'd heard talk about the stranger side of the business, the fetishes—not that a school girl outfit was particularly kinky. But it was a specific request, referencing a specific desire. In Grace's mind it spoke to someone who ordered escorts often enough to need to spice up the experience—who wanted something more than just a beautiful woman willingly having sex with him. Before Marcus she might not have thought twice about it, but the idea of any kind of appointment so soon after yesterday was difficult to deal with, let alone one with a client that might very well be a lot higher maintenance.

"Who has the file?" Grace asked, as Suzanne made a few final tweaks to her hair.

"It should be on your phone by now." Grace found her phone on a nearby sofa and looked at her messages. There was a new one, with a file attached. Opening it, she scanned the basic information: the client's name was Kevin, no last name provided, and he lived in a penthouse apartment in the South End. Aside from the client's note that she look like a "high school girl," there were no special requests listed. She breathed a sigh of relief. There was that, at least.

"So, is this like a role play?" asked Grace, thumbing down the client profile.

"It should say on there if you're to be in character," answered Kristina, comparing a number of cheap accessories and choosing a stack of plastic bracelets that looked like they came from a mall kiosk.

"It doesn't," said Grace.

"Still, best to assume he wants you in character," Suzanne said, finishing with her hair and standing back to look at her head. "You certainly look young enough. Just remember not to sound smarter than him."

"Maybe he wants a smart high school girl," said Grace. Suzanne frowned.

"Trust me, they never do," she said.

* * *

The same driver who had brought her to Marcus's estate picked her up in front of the brownstone, opening the rear door for her like she was a celebrity. Grace liked that aspect of the business, at least: Yasna really did treat her like she was a VIP. Which made sense, given that their clientele was entirely composed of real VIPs. When you were worth nine figures, you didn't pick up streetwalkers. You got a different class of hooker, one who suited your lifestyle.

Unless, of course, slumming it was your particular brand of kink, in which case Yasna Group was perfectly happy to accommodate you.

Case in point: though Jason, the driver, was driving her most of the way to the next client's apartment, he wouldn't pull up at the front door this time. Instead, he'd drop her off a block away, and she would walk the rest of the way. High school girls didn't get chauffeured around in town cars by large men in wool coats. They humped it home in L.L. Bean backpacks, an accessory which Kristina had insisted on providing. Grace had had one just like it when she actually was in high school, which only made the situation stranger.