Elouise Edron - In The Night Time

"Hello, Paul speaking."

I wasn’t expecting him to answer at this time of day and stammered. "Uh, Paul? It's..."

"Bianca, I know it’s you. You're up early."

I heard a smile in his voice, animated by the fact I had left no time to take him up on his offer of a chat.

"Thought last night was a big party?" I replied, trying to keep the conversation cool.

"Nah, not for me. I always wait to slip out once everyone is drunk enough not to notice. I left just after you.”

Silence settled between us, and I felt that familiar tension building despite being physically distanced.

“I guess you're calling about the proposition?" he asked, waiting for my response.

"The job, yes. For your friend? The PA role you mentioned?” I made it very clear what I was calling about and hated that I was having to ask for his help. It was challenging to know I couldn’t do it all on my own, but something inside told me I could trust him. “Don't get your hopes up about anything else…”

“I thought we had put that idea to bed last night actually Bianca?” Obviously, he was trying to get a rise out of me.

I liked the sound of his voice in the morning, it was deep and husky. I imagined him lying in bed with his shirt off, probably with some half naked bimbo bringing him coffee and breakfast. What does he look like naked? What does his bedroom look like? What would it be like to sleep with a man who surely knew how to please a woman?

All the guys I’d been with didn’t seem to know what they were doing, let alone care about my pleasure. I had tried experimenting with my ex, but we couldn’t seem to find the groove of common pleasure, it was mostly just… awkward.

A sudden burst of lust raged over me as thoughts continued in my mind. I excitedly grew wet in my near nakedness thinking about the wonders of Paul’s work. Trying to keep my cool on the line, my free hand shifted below my towel and started slowly playing with my clit, rubbing it in little circles.

"I want to make it clear that I'm going to be strictly professional from here on, Bianca,” he said with unprecedented authority. I was taken aback and stiffened my posture, both hands in sight. His boyish jesting was a thing of the past. “My friend Jeff is looking for help and I know that uni students often have a lot of underutilized skills.”

I tried not to giggle thinking about what a line this would be for recruiting new players in his field.

“It’d mean a few nights, and maybe some weekend work or time away - would that work? The pay is about $1200 a week, give or take, depending on the hours required and, well, then there’s commission."

Holy crap. That was more than I had ever earned in a full-time role, let alone part-time. My eyes lit up with dollar signs, imagining how much easier life would be no longer having to stress about cash. I could save for a car. I could have time for self-care. I could finally buy the things I needed and start paying off my mounting loan. While I was sure that DeGrain understood what this new position would mean to me at a material level, he would never understand what it would mean for my confidence, my future ambitions and even, the relationship I held with Dad. That he would see me making it on my own again and know that the last thing I needed from his was money. That in itself, was a good enough reason to jump at the opportunity as I could envisage the relationship between us slowly starting to rebuild.

"That's generous for a PA!” I couldn’t contain my excitement, and the words just fell from my mouth. “Wait, what aren’t you telling me?” my suspicion aroused. “I’m not going to suck his balls, cook him meals or offer any other kind of ‘special favours’ if that’s what you were meaning in regards to commission.”

I was obviously eager, but also unnerved by the lack of clarity I was yet to receive around the role itself. The money was enticing and while facing poverty was something I aimed to avoid, my morals were not to be messed with.

"Bianca... I'm being serious, I expect you to act professionally too." He had a sense of softness in his voice, as if trying to urge me on track.

"Sorry, it's just hard to take you seriously knowing what you do. Given the opening, I can’t really imagine how this would be a role for nice girl like me." I giggled under my breath, giddy at the thought of me working on a porn set as I had assumed.

"Well, if I were your boss, I can assure you, I’d find it hard to be less flirtatious with you,” he said, breaking his newly established professionalism. “Either way, I think it’s best we both aim for our best behaviour when in each other’s company. Especially when you meet Jeff."

Had he just admitted to flirting with me? Ha! What a joke. If anything, he surely just felt irked by the fact that I wasn’t giving him the kind of attention he was used to. He was beginning to realise I wasn't into his glamorous lifestyle or the underbelly role he played, and that I was just a girl trying to find my way in the world after so many letdowns. Before my father left, he was rarely ever there anyways. If it wasn’t work that called him to corners of the globe, it was sordid affairs that left their partially hidden trails within our home. The late-night phone calls, the scent of another woman’s perfume, the hushed voicemails, and the lock on his office door; all the tell-tale signs of things he wished to be hidden yet weren’t hard to uncover. One night in particular, I remember overhearing a conversation with someone whom he just ‘couldn’t wait to see naked again’. A conversation that changed the way I would look at men forever. It was that moment, that made me realise not even marriage is a sanctity of safety. Back in those days, I used to fancy myself quite the detective and had spent most of my teens wanting to become a private investigator. It was my mother’s illness however, that convinced me it was better to help those who truly sought change, than uncover truths that caused hurt. Her passing was what made me go back to school after years in the corporate game, and getting my degree was something I knew would make her proud from beyond the grave.

"Didn't think I’d be your type, Paul; I've got brains and I'm unquestionably independent," I said, reiterating the point I had tried to get across the night before.

"Unquestionably indeed. And your brains are exactly the appeal. Along with those piercing eyes, long legs and tight little body of yours. If you were mine, I wouldn't let you out of the bedroom."

My cheeks flushed as I let out a winded cough, before pursing my lips to suffocate a giggle. My hand securely gliding back over my mound. My panties grew wetter at the thought of ‘belonging’ to someone that had such a hold on the sex industry, and just being there, at his beck and call. I was definitely not the type of girl that could ever be ‘owned’, but I did enjoy the idea of it.

"Paul," I said sternly.

"Bianca," he replied, as if assuring me he would get back on track. “I shouldn’t have said that. Last comment I swear. I’ll be more professional with you from here on out.”

"You were saying?"

"He owns a brothel…”

"Wait, hold on, did you just say a brothel? Like it ain’t a big deal? I said no to porn, and you somehow assume that I’d rather sell my body for any guy with a bit of a cash and a boner? I thought this was a serious job, as part of our serious discussion. Thanks, but definitely – no thanks."

Suddenly regretting the phone call, a million thoughts raced through my mind. Here I was thinking he could actually be a nice guy offering me a break, but if he thought my standards were low enough to succumb to being paid for sex, he had another thing coming.

“Christ no! I want you to be a Madam. He needs a woman who’s strong, intelligent, organised and quick witted enough to co-manage. Plus, you'd be dealing with a lot of arrogant men, like me, and would sometimes need to put them in their place. Does that sound like you?”