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The Princess & The Whore |
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By Margo Perry
“We’re done. Just go. Please.”
“Shall I drop you off at your apartment?”
His lips were flapping, but I had no interest in listening.
Tina, the waitress had given up interrupting us for something as mundane as a drink order, so I stopped her as she walked by.
“Excuse me. I’d like a double martini, straight up with a twist.”
“I’ve never seen you order hard liquor before,” George said.
“My boyfriend never dumped me after an affair with the girl in the band before.”
My throat was as tight as a heart attack waiting to happen.
“I’ll have the same as the lady.”
George flashed his most charming smile in Tina’s direction.
“Fuck you,” I said, enraged beyond etiquette. “You’re leaving, not drinking.”
Tina nodded, before striding toward the bar.
I, for some unfathomable reason, stood up and stuck out my hand. George got up and shook it weakly.
“Your hands are clammy,” I snarled, before sitting back down in the booth. “Get lost.”
I watched him walk away, my stomach in knots, my heart cracked wide open and bleeding.
I thought about George’s duplicity. Before he went on tour, he’d promised to put a ring on my finger as soon as he returned. Today was that day, and when he picked me up, he kissed me deeply and told me how fabulous I looked. He’d gazed at my tits, with lust smoking from his eyes. I was surprised when he hustled me out of the building, into his car and broke speed limits getting here. I was sure we were on the fast track to hot sex and commitment.
I was wrong.
“Here you go,” Tina said.
“Thanks.”
“Look, I’ll be tending bar from now until midnight. It’s dead quiet. Why don’t you bring your gorgeous self to the bar and keep me company.” When she called me gorgeous, my eyes misted over. Tina smiled, picked up my drink, and put it back on her tray. “Let’s go, girl.”
Her invitation was loaded with girl power and I trotted after her like a grateful puppy.
At the bar, I reached for my wallet, as Tina wiped up a wet spot, before placing my drink in front of me.
“Relax, I’ll run a tab. Cleaning house is exhausting.”
“I feel like such a loser. I thought …”
My mind sputtered and words took flight.
Tina was a short, curly capped blonde with intense blue eyes and a sturdy athletic frame. She leaned across the bar.
“I know his type and you’re well rid of him. He wants fame and his star will shine only for himself until he gets it.”
Tina reached under the bar, opened her handbag and whipped out a mirror. She held it up to my face. “What do you see?”
I stared at troubled dull eyes that had started the night sparkling like green gems. My natural riot of dark curls had been ironed into submission because George liked it that way. My huge breasts, usually modestly contained, were on full display because they turned George on. I couldn’t find myself. I returned Tina’s mirror.
“I see a mess.”
“I see a beauty of great worth,” she said quietly. “I’m a lesbian, born and bred, but I’d never approach you because I’m not secure enough to handle the kind of attention you attract.”
I started to laugh. Wry amusement shook my shoulders.
“Nobody ever notices me,” I said.
“Everybody notices you, but you’ve been too caught up with up with Mr. Wonderful to see.”
I’d laid eyes on Tina for the first time that night, but I felt like I’d known her all my life.
I looked down at myself. My second skin of a short black number, with its plunging neckline offered up my over-sized breasts like mega-melons on sale and my ultra high heels were ones George had picked out. The outfit felt as cheap, desperate and obvious as I did.
“I feel like a whore.”
“An alluring and lovely, but very sad whore.”
The voice rolled over me, tinged with amusement, but deep as a river.
“Jas,” Tina squealed. “You’re back!”
Tina sprinted from behind the bar to literally jump onto the tall, deliciously handsome, white haired gentleman standing behind me. He grabbed hold of her legs, wrapped around his waist, before twirling her in circles and setting her down. The President Rolex peeping from his suit sleeve said he was rich. His comments to me said he was sophisticated, self assured and at home in his skin. And the way he was grinning at Tina said his heart was as big as all outdoors. I was immediately and irrationally jealous of my new friend.
Emotionally as entangled as cheap yarn, my heart pounded fretfully as I watched them. They were holding hands, bussing the air beside each other’s cheeks, a greeting I’d never mastered. They babbled enthusiastically, out of my earshot, and I felt the kind of loneliness that only losers know. I sat there staring at my martini. I hated its harsh flavour, but sipped anyway, as I stumbled into a pothole of self pity.
Why had George bought me here? The Stable was a rustic bar, whose wood panels, whips and saddles had been transported from another time and place, an imitation like our relationship. A kinder man would have delivered the bad news in my apartment.
“Opening tonight at the Regent Hotel, first set beginning at 10:00 PM, let’s welcome Holly and The Jazz Tones.”
Would it never end? I stared at the tiny television, suspended discreetly above the bar, and George stared back at me. An interview was about to begin and he and Holly were seated with the other three band members, flirting with each other and the camera, as happy as you please.
I was devastated.
“Holy shit!”
Tina, back behind the bar, hit the remote and the screen turned to black.
“Forget the creep,” she said. “Virginia, meet Jason. Jason, Virginia.”
“May I join you?”
His voice sent chills through me, hot and erotic, disconnecting me from George and pain.
“Her night has left her word deprived. Have a seat, Jas,” Tina said, laughing.
Without asking, she produced a bottle of red wine and a glass, poured a taste and stared expectantly as he sipped. He nodded, chuckled and she filled his glass.
“Will you join me?” he asked, lifting his glass.
“I’d like that.”
Tina was already replacing my martini with a glass of the smoothest most intriguing red wine I’d ever tasted.
“I don’t know wines,” I said, “but this is wonderful.”
His blue eyes caressed mine and I felt a thrill I hadn’t felt, perhaps ever. He visually devoured my body, lingering over my now heaving breasts without apology. He lifted his glass, offering to toast. I lifted mine.
“I’m not really a whore,” I blurted out, touching my glass to his.
“To beautiful whores and ladies everywhere,” he said, touching his glass to mine.
“And lesbians,” Tina said, lifting a glass of water, she had just poured herself. “I’ll be back.”
She moved along the bar to a couple who’d just seated themselves.
“You have no reason to feel like anyone, but yourself. How do you spend your days?”
“I teach high school drama and I do feel like myself. I feel dumped.”
“Teaching is a most important profession and you’re not giving yourself the respect you’re due. First, you feel like a whore and now dumped. Where does a man start with a creature like you?”
He laughed and I felt like a fool, an innocent, unworthy of his attention. I wished I’d kept my mouth shut. I didn’t know why, but I wanted to please this man.
“Tina brought me up to speed. That George is a fool of immeasurable proportions, but he’s not your problem. Your problem is that you don’t know your own worth. If you were a whore how much would you charge for an entire evening?”
The question frightened me. It was too personal, too revelatory. Tina returned to refill our glasses and I felt enormous relief.
“I’m having trouble with our self-deprecating friend Ginny.”
Nobody had called me Ginny since elementary school. I felt further drawn to him.
“She’s a knockout, but thanks to that creep, she hasn’t a clue,” Tina said. “I couldn’t stand him on first sight.”
“He shouldn’t matter,” Jason said, “to either of you. Now, answer my question: If you were a whore, how much would you charge for a night?”
“For what?” I asked, emboldened by Tina’s presence.
“For the pleasure of your company and whatever the night brings?”
“I have no idea.”
“Decide. I’m willing to pay it. Now, consult with your friend, while I make a few calls.”
He walked off, cell phone to ear.
“Is he serious?”
“About helping you out of your funk? Yes.”
“But he doesn’t know me. Why should he care?”
“Because he knows me, I care, and you’ve obviously made quite an impression. He’s a confirmed bachelor who owns a chain of hotels and travels constantly. I was waiting tables when I met him, but wanted more. He sent me to the School of Hospitality and Tourism and advised me to learn the ropes, first stop The Stable. In three months, he’ll place me in one of his spots in a different capacity. He’s changed my life and I adore him. I trust him more than I do my family who rejected me because I’m gay.”
“What’s all this whore stuff?”
Tina laughed.
“You’re the one who said she felt like a whore. You’re the one with your tits hanging out. Are you attracted to him?”
“Like crazy,” I said. “I don’t understand it, but he’s already driving me crazy.”
“Then go with it. You know The Regent, where George is opening tonight, Jas owns the place. That’s where he stays when he’s in town. He comes here for a quiet drink to relax, you know, be anonymous.”
“I feel so vulnerable with him. It’s scary.”
“That’s a whole lot better than you were feeling an hour ago. Make up your mind, fight or flight, he’s coming back.”
“Well ladies, have you decided what the night will cost me?”
“We didn’t even discuss it,” Tina said. “I was too busy telling her all about you.”
“Snitch,” Jason said, winking at Tina.
He picked up my purse from the bar and turned away from us. “When you don’t ask for what you want, you take a chance on what you’ll get.”
He put my purse back on the bar and Tina and I exchanged glances, mine puzzled, hers amused.
Jason spoke into his cell again and this time we heard.
“Bring the car around. We’ll be dining at The Regent.”
Tina grinned at me like a proud Mama.
“Wish you could join us, Tina. For sure, next time.”
“Just make the girl happy,” Tina said.
“I’ll do my best. Come, lovely lady, let the games begin.”
“Games?”
I was puzzled, but fascinated. The Regent was where George was playing, where we’d be dining. What was Jason up to? Why did I so completely trust this man I had just met, a man unlike anyone I’d ever known. I felt like he was challenging me. His sexual pull was almost frightening, but I wanted to walk toward, not away from him.
“Have the best time,” Tina said, “and don’t be a stranger. Give me a call and let me know how the evening went.”
“Expect a good review or news that I died trying,” Jason said, laughing.
As we left the bar, my thoughts were as jumbled as they had been when George had left, but the content was as different as love and hate, boredom and excitement, growth and stagnation.
“Do you enjoy revenge fantasies?” he asked, as we settled into the limo and it moved away from the curb.
“What do you mean?”
“This George person, wouldn’t you like to see him squirm a bit?”
At the sound of his name, an anger before unleashed rose like bile.
“Would I ever,” I said.
“Then that’s the game. But spending tonight with you, that’s deadly serious. By the end of tonight, I want you to have a clue about how desirable and powerful you are.”
Jason took my chin in his soft, firm hands and kissed me. He was an explorer, my mouth his cave, his tongue, lips and teeth his tools. He was leisurely and then dedicated, tentative and then demanding and I responded like every cliché ever read. I melted into him, my breath panted out of me, and my pussy grew hotter and wetter than it had been in a long time. My tongue danced with his, investigating every inch of him. His mouth was warm, his breathe as intoxicating as wine. We were teenagers making out in the back of a car. He pawed my tits and tweaked my hardened nipples. I massaged his rock hard cock through his slacks and felt it respond. I wanted him to take me right there in the car.
Instead, he wrapped me gently in his arms and took both my hands in his own.
“There’s no need to rush,” he said. “We have all night. Spread your legs.”
His fingers moved up my thighs and negotiated my skimpy panties with ease. He opened my pussy lips and took my clit between two fingers, rubbing gently. I could feel pussy juice gushing out of me.
“You are so hot,” he whispered. “This is where my cock will be sometime soon. Feel my cock. Feel how hard you’ve made it.”
I rubbed his cock and moaned. I was climbing an orgasmic ladder, higher than any I’d ever experienced. It made me heady, unthinking. I unzipped his slacks, used both hands to unleash him. I clamped my legs onto his hand, squeezing, controlling the climax that threatened to explode.
“It’s been awhile,” he said, as I licked his shaft. His blue eyes were swimming with lust, his pupils large. My mouth covered him in a warm bath, my tongue, circled his rim, my teeth carefully played with his foreskin. “Oh,” he groaned, and I felt the power. He squeezed my lips over my swollen clit and I came, groaning and moaning uncontrollably.
He lifted my head from his cock and kissed me wetly and loosely.
“No need to rush,” he said again. “We’ve just begun.”
I was relieved at the prospect of spending long hours with him, but disappointed that my pulsing pussy, my itching nipples and every urge rushing through me was being told to wait. I felt wild, impatient and even reckless.
“We’re almost there,” he said, as he zipped himself up and I tried to pull myself together.
I’d passed The Regent many times, but had never been inside. It was pricey for a teacher’s purse. The doorman and another couple were waiting for us and, as the door opened, I suddenly felt way out of my depth. The doorman was uniformed; the couple classy in their business attire and my recently found confidence disappeared.
“I do feel like a whore with my tits hanging out,” I whispered.
“Whore or princess, you’re mine for the night. These people are here to help you prepare for George’s revenge. All you have to do is enjoy being pampered. That’s what beautiful women deserve.”
We climbed out of the car and he shook everyone’s hands.
“Virginia, I’m going to leave you in Marjorie and Pete’s capable hands. I’ll be by to pick you up at 10:00 PM.”
“Not much time. Please come with us, Ms. Rowlands.”
They already knew my name and their deference was almost uncomfortable, but I told myself that I had nothing to fear, that I was the one they were aiming to please.
The next hour was a blur. I was whisked off to a salon where my hair was washed and delivered to a state of lustrous perfection. Shining waves fell past my shoulders and I felt like Rita Hayworth. Make-up was applied with speed and subtlety. My eyes were brilliant green gems again, my full lips moist red and seductive. Mascara lengthened my lashes and I giggled as I examined myself. I felt like a film star, ready for her close up.
“Happy?” Marjorie asked. “You are lovely.”
Post hair and makeup found me in a room where Pete had three gowns waiting.
“I’ve never worn a gown in my life. They’re beautiful, but aren’t they a bit much?”
“Not if you’re going to the Jazz Club on the arm of the man who owns the joint! I should be so lucky.”
I stuck out my arm and grabbed the red number that had been calling my name since we entered the room.
“Perfect!” Pete enthused, before pirouetting like a ballerina.
The dress fit me perfectly. The long sleeved, boat neckline gown flowed over my curves with soft elegance. The back featured a daringly low back that accentuated my ass and made my daily lunchtime workouts worthwhile.
“You’re glam personified,” Pete squealed. “Jason will love you!”
I gazed at myself in the full length mirror, glowing. Gone was the miserable, dumped loser that George had left at The Stable, gone was the shy teacher and, in her place, stood a babe. Just then, there was a gentle knock on the door. Pete rushed to open it to Jason, who stood, dressed in a tux. He walked up to me and I could hardly breathe.
“Here we go,” he said, as he clasped a beautiful cuff bracelet over my wrist. The green gems matched my eyes. He produced a red evening bag and transferred my lipstick and stuff from my old purse. “Pete, get someone to transfer her things to the limo.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
“Thanks, Pete, and pass my gratitude on to Marjorie.”
“Will do.”
He tucked my arm through his. We left the room and took the elevator up to the penthouse floor.
“You’re magnificent,” he said, as we stared at ourselves in the mirror. “Are we a handsome couple or what?”
I was glowing.
The band was already playing when we stepped into the club.
“On any other occasion, I’d wait until they finished their number, or slip into a back table, but this one’s for George.”
The host made the biggest fuss by seating us at the ringside table and having the waiter attend to us immediately. Jason studied the wine list, consulting me over wine and menu items. The room was buzzing.
“I invited press for this young band tonight. I wanted to give them a leg up. Now, thanks to George, all they’re interested in is you, the girl I’m with.”
Jason gazed into my eyes, his sparkling with humour. He smoothed my cheek before toasting me with champagne.
George was staring at me as though he’d seen a ghost and I was having the time of my life.
I’d told Jason how much George hated band requests and people who danced while they were playing their hearts out. Jason sent the waiter to make the request they didn’t dare refuse and we danced as they stumbled through Nat King Cole’s, But Beautiful.
We had George’s favourite steak and frits, but by that time, we’d forgotten all about him. We wanted to be back in the limo where we could touch and feel each other. His hands on my thigh were not enough. His tongue in my ear and my hand on his cock was not enough. Sneaked kisses were not enough. We wanted more.
Before dessert, he grabbed my hand.
“Come.”
We returned to the elevator and Jason locked it down.
“Baby,” he said, rubbing his cock against my pussy.
“More,” I said, lifting my dress and lowering my panties.
He fucked me hard and I loved it, front-ways and then doggie style. We didn’t have a condom, so I offered him my ass and loved the virgin pain, loved that I could give him something George would never have. And it was good, pain and all.
When I opened my purse to freshen my lipstick, I found a stack of bills stuffed inside. I was shocked, confused and upset.
“I’m not a whore,” I said.
“Whore, princess, teacher friend … you’re all those things and more. Wear your badges proudly. I’m simply sharing what I have and I have a lot.”
“But …”
“No buts, just ands. We have miles to go before we sleep.” He kissed me deeply and all was magically well. “Next stop dessert.”
When we got back to the club, we walked up to the bandstand and congratulated them on their music. Holly gushed, but George looked suicidal.
We fed each other strawberries, dipped in cream. We sipped brandy.
On the way home, we snuggled in each others arms, content.
It was past two when I showered. In my favourite sleep shirt, I counted $5000 cash and a guilty pleasure washed over me. I owned my first gown and my first pair of designer shoes.
Tomorrow afternoon, I’d meet him at his favourite coffee shop. I was to wear the outfit he’d be sending over in the morning and I was to forget to wear panties.
Was I princess or whore?
The question lingered as I drifted off to sleep, but the question was moot. I was both and I loved it.
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