Again

Chapter 1: Cecilia

The banging against the door is unsettling but somehow I sit here quite calmly in my mini dress, on this closed toilet seat. This is easily the nicest hotel bathroom I've ever seen, complete with a fancy pedestal sink made of porcelain so fine and so clean you can see your reflection in it that perfectly complements the white marble floor.  There's something in the floor tiles that makes them gleam and sparkle against the lights in the ceiling and give off a luxurious illusion; almost like walking on diamonds.  Crushed diamonds ground into a fine glittering powder; but diamonds nonetheless.

     I'm usually not particularly fond of sparkly things but I can't deny it; this floor is beautiful.

    "Open The Door, Now!  I Paid Good Money For The Night."

    "So What?"

      I respond, feeling deeply annoyed that he'd interrupt my attempt to appreciate the beauty of the lovely floor tiles, and sigh a little as I reach into the ridiculously small clutch I brought with me for the evening.  It's a miracle I didn't leave it laying around somewhere because I don't usually do the whole purse or handbag thing, but I figured I needed to look the part.  No self respecting high class call girl would be caught dead without a clutch.  At least I don't think she would; not having one would sort of give her away as not being careful enough to blend in, and the last thing your 'date' would want you to do is standout.  Discretion is key in this business, I assume.

      Or maybe I'm over thinking it.

      The character outside the door -who once presented himself to be a sophisticated and respectable gentleman - is now belligerently drunk and grab happy.  Sure, he paid the agency for my 'companionship' for the night, but there's no way I'm sleeping with this guy.  I've had more than my fair share of unwanted advances from undesirable men: the difference tonight is that I don't have to endure it.  I pull a bottle of clear nail polish out of the clutch and begin painting over my bright red nails, assuming that this tantrum fueled by hornyness, entitlement, and well aged scotch might last a while.  I might as well do something moderately productive with my time.

     "Bitch I said open the door!"

     A very loud crack sounds as he strikes the door in violent frustration.  I'm irritated more than anything else; it's rude of him to ruin the tranquility of this beautiful spa like bathroom with this sort of behavior.

     "Hey look, fuck off or I'll call the cops."

     I yell back, blowing on my fingernails afterwards.

     "You're a whore! You can't call the cops."

     "I'm a companion, you dick, and I'm not fucking you, so you can bang around all you want."

     He kicks the door. I immediately feel a deeper appreciation for the strength of the lock that holds it safely shut, but the force of the blow makes the wood buckle a bit in the middle and then bounce back.  It's unsettling in all honesty; the door is weakening, but his resolve is not.

     This is a familiar scene to me; despite the fact that I'm brand new to the world of paid escorts I am all too familiar with having a predator at my door - a wolf clawing his way in to have his way with me.  The doorknob begins to shake, a few pieces of wood splinter off of the frame around the door and land against the glimmering floor.

     My time is running out.

     I look around frantically, looking for a way out, and smile to myself as a simple solution appears; a window placed conveniently in the wall directly across from the shower.  I close my nail polish and place it safely into my clutch before tiptoeing over to the shower.  The miraculous window is just big enough for me to shimmy out of, and upon peeking out of it I see that it leads to the stairs of a fire escape.