She wasn't scheduled to work at the café for the next two days because of her other job. Ron knew about it. He encouraged her to go for it. He was aware of her personal difficulties and was decent enough to understand that she needed to supplement her earnings from the coffee shop.
Most of her coworkers at the café didn't know that she'd taken a job with an escort service agency four months earlier and was employed by them twice a week. They assumed the two days she was away were her days off, but Cassidy hadn't enjoyed a day off since she started her second questionable job. She was lucky the agency agreed to two days instead of the regular five working days.
Her job mostly consisted of answering phone calls from potential clients and taking down their personal information. It was important for the agency to check a person's background against a blacklist database for the protection of the girls working there. There had been several instances when an escort complained of being beaten and abused by a client, and it was her duty to ensure it never happened again. She also answered e-mails and handled a bit of advertising via social media.
When she'd first applied for the job, the manager had been skeptical of her skills. He tried to convince her to work as an escort instead. She had the looks, he said, but Cassidy was adamant. She knew the extent of the services the girls offered the clients, and it usually lead to some form of sex. They could refuse, but most didn't and Cassidy didn't have the guts to do the same.
The escorts themselves were all young, beautiful, and basically had the same story to tell. Money was the primary incentive for becoming an escort, and it was classier than being a street prostitute. She had made friends with some of these girls and had grown quite fond of them.
Cassidy often wondered how she could keep her focus, given what her duties entailed at the agency. Her entire being was at different ends of a pendulum, her moral compass being in diametric opposition to that of the agency's. Her mind was back at the coffee shop, where she wondered if Tristan had returned to look for her. She immediately tossed this thought away, hoping he hadn't because she wouldn't have been there to see him.
The hours at the agency crawled incredibly slowly and she was often assailed with an urge to call Ron and ask if anyone had come in looking for her. However, she knew Ron would see right through her no matter how casual she tried to appear.
She just had to grin and bear it until Saturday came around. The agency manager could sense her unease and was giving her strange looks like she was a cat in heat.
The escort service office was on the outskirts of Forest Hills, not that far from her modest apartment. She entered the discreet front door - no signage, only a number - and climbed the steps to the office. Her lackluster setup was located in the very back: a small room, an oak desk, a worn out leather office chair, a beige phone, an outdated computer, and one tiny window. That was it.
She hung her coat on a hook and settled into her familiar seat. Before she could boot up her slow computer, her manager casually strolled in.
"Cassidy, I need your help. Between calls, you enter these new guidelines onto the website, yes?" He handed her a printout from his computer.
Cassidy breathed a sigh of relief. Another mindless task. This job wasn't hard; it was just the business. She felt so uncomfortable here. She knew she was conflicted, and it was all about money. There was no getting around it.
"Sure thing, Mr. Horvat," she smiled politely.
"Cassidy, how many times have I ask?" he said in his thick Eastern European accent. "It's Edgar. Ed. Just call me Ed. We're friendly here. Happy family. Girl friendly. Edgar friendly."
"Alright, Ed. I'll get it done today. No problem."
"You still sure you don't want other work? Make more money? Have good times?" Edgar asked with a hopeful grin. Edgar's family had immigrated to America from Croatia when he was just a boy, yet his English was still quite broken. Cassidy found it oddly endearing.
"No, I'm fine," she replied flatly. "This suits me just fine. I couldn't be … I couldn't … I'm not … "
Edgar shrugged his broad shoulders. "Okay. Just ask. You make good money."
"Ed," Cassidy began firmly. "No. Don't ask again, okay? I'll come here help in the office and go home. That's all I'll do here."
"Okay, okay. You do good work. You good girl."
After he left Cassidy took a good look at the guidelines:
Do not ever use her working name at the buzzer, and do not ever use it at her door. Providers generally want it to look like an old friend is coming to visit, so they need you need to be discreet. Buzz up and say something simple like, "Hey it's me."
More directions like that, then:
If you do not ask her for what you want and end up disappointed, do not write a negative review. That is very unfair to her as she is not a mind reader. If you do not ask for what you want and end up disappointed it is not her fault.
Cassidy felt a shiver run down her back. This gray area, the crossover to sex, is what made her uncomfortable. She knew it was unrealistic to expect men to go out with a beautiful woman and then … just end the evening. How did they do it?
She got back to answering phone calls and within a couple of hours she had the new guidelines posted on the website. She decided to send a notice to all the girls to check the updated rules so they would be up to speed.
"Hey, Cass," a southern drawl called through the door.
"Hi, Kim. How's it going?"
"I'm fine, but I need to take a couple of days off. Can you take me off the schedule for Monday and Tuesday? It's my little brother."
Cassidy realized the girls had lives and problems outside this world where they dressed to entice and wore makeup to enhance. She didn't agree with what they did, but she was able to look past that had befriended the majority of them.
"What's going on with your little brother?" she asked with sincerity.
"Well, it's a mystery. First the doctors thought it might be ALS, but that's so rare in children that they decided he needs to go in for some other tests. I want to be with him. All the hospital stuff and the doctors and crazy machines and needles. He gets so scared."
Cassidy could see Kim was close to tears. Unexplained nerve diseases, cancer. The world was filled with tragedies.
"Oh, Kim. I'm so sorry. My Mom has cancer. I know how you feel." She fiddled with the computer. "There, you're off the schedule."
"Thanks, Cass," Kim drawled. "How about you? How are you doing? I didn't know about your mom."
"It's why I'm here. Making money to send home."
"Yeah. Money makes the world go round."
Cassidy nodded agreement. "Yeah, it sure does." She paused, not knowing how to go about asking the question that was really on her mind. She knew Kim was one of the girls who offered extra services privately. "Um, Kim … I … How do you? I mean … The strange men? Umm … "
Kim laughed her familiar infectious laugh. Cassidy could see why she was popular. "Cassidy, you sound like one of the guys trying to ask for more than dinner and conversation." She looked at the wall for a moment, eyes going distant. "At first, it is uncomfortable. You have to get used to being frank and direct. But the real thing is you have to change your thinking. If you think sex is bad, it's not going to work. Plus, it not really about sex, it's about pleasing. About offering the best service. You know, we all have our own limits and we discuss those before agreeing to any extra service. You have to believe that what you do not only uplifts your clients but uplifts you, too. You have to enjoy the job for what it is."
Cassidy tried, but she just couldn't get her head there … not even for a few seconds. "Thanks, Kim. I guess it's just not for me. I'm okay doing this office stuff. I'll stick with that."
Kim nodded in agreement. "Yeah, some girls just can't get there. You have to be okay mentally to make it work. Can't argue with the money, though." She let out another great laugh.
"Um, so, how money are we talking? Oh, my god, that's so blunt. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."
"Hey, that's okay. Just don't tell Ed how much, okay? He knows we do it, and he knows it gets him more clients, but we never tell him how much. Deal?"
"Sure, Kim. I won't tell Ed. I was just curious."