'Escort' was such an outdated word. At least, it was in your book. If you had things your way, you would have the word universally updated to something that was a little less on the nose. Something like 'attendee'. You felt that this would substantially increase the type of clientele that would scout you for your skills and business; something a little less shady and crass. Still, even as the Gourmet Age changed and developed the world into something vastly different than the era before it, it would appear that some things never changed.

Natural, primitive things.

Human urges.

A customer's needs didn't necessarily have to be anything overtly sexual for you to consider their patronage; in fact, you were completely up for it as long as clients followed the rules. These types of requests paid a lot more than just the run-of-the-mill girlfriend experience that you offered as your basic package, so you felt it silly to limit yourself to the possibility of getting a hefty paycheque at the end of the transaction.

Still, you couldn't help but feel just that little bit more empathetic to your customers that ultimately searched for some sort of companionship, above everything else. Sometimes, even the most desperate pleas for company made your heart ache for them, but you had your number one rule of never getting involved with a client. Never. No matter the kind of person they might be. Getting attached would just lead to trouble down the line. So, you made a conscious effort to never let yourself get too close, too involved, too committed to a client.

That is, you had never expected this particular customer.

It began like any normal day; rolling out of bed at a fairly leisurely pace with a stretching yawn. It was just another day for you, and although the chatter of the street below drifted into your window from the gaggle of pedestrians, you were used to it. It was kind of nice hearing the world around you, knowing that one of the wandering pedestrians below your apartment could be your next meal ticket. Everyone had a story to tell, and some would even include you in them.

With a brief shower and quick bite to eat, you settled in front of your computer to see if you had any offers of business sitting in your inbox. While you didn't exactly boast about your choice of work, you weren't struggling for your next work day. You had all the right means of communication – a professional webpage enlisting your more appropriate services on a public face and that served to work just fine in your opinion.

While almost all of your enquiries were sent to you via electronic means, you had even put in a physical postal address as well as a way for potential customers to contact you for your services. You had done this on a whim with the mindset that it would never be used, but at least the option was there. Pulling your (h/c) into a high ponytail, you flicked through the several emails of interest asking for quotes on you're a myriad of services. What you didn't expect, however, was your postman to drop off your physical mail at the same time, along with a notice that your post box also had something in it. This struck you as incredibly odd as the only reason you owned that post box was for this very business.

You couldn't deny, your interest was piqued and a smile tugged at your lips.

You had to find out who this was.

Before you knew it, you had thrown on a quick but comfortable outfit and almost flew down the stairs, out the door and down the street towards your post box. In your daze, you almost collided with a stranger but managed to stop yourself just in time before knocking the poor man over.

'Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry!' you apologised with a heavy breath. 'Please forgive me!'

'Oh no, it's okay!' the small man said, a big smile growing on his face. 'It usually happens to me so it's not a big deal.'

You gave a sigh of relief, but still bowed in apology. 'Still, I'm just caught up in my own world and I wasn't paying attention to where I was headed. I hope you have a good day!'

Your feet started you off before your brain had connected, leaving the stranger in his chef whites to wave at you with a blank look before setting off on his own again. When you finally arrived at your post box, you skidded to a halt in front of it and wrested it open. Inside was a small cream envelope with your business name and address written in an emerald ink.

Curiouser and curiouser.

In a flash, you were back in your apartment and in front of your computer, staring at this envelope with such curiosity that it almost burned a hole into it. The writing itself was a mixture of delicate yet modest, and something inside you felt like ripping into this like you normally would feel…rude somehow.

Sliding a knife into the flap and peeling it open, you slipped out a neatly folded letter and picked it open gently. You were met with the same green ink and neat writing that prefaced you before.

Dear "Sugar", (Sugar being your pseudonym for your business contact.)

I don't normally contact these sorts of businesses, but yours was the first that offered a physical address that I could use.

I am in need of some company, and I don't particularly know where to begin with my requests. At the very least, I need a female companion for an event coming up in my future.

I'm a fairly secluded individual; a personal choice of my own auspice but it means that I've not lent myself to knowing a lot of females on a personal level. My line of work also dictates a lot of… unwanted female attention on me which makes me feel highly uncomfortable pursuing any further means of relationships with them.

I believe that you might be able to assist me with this. After all, this would only be for a one-time event. My apologies for this vague information contained within this letter, but if you would like to know more, please respond to the attached postal address at the conclusion of this letter.

I look forward to hearing from you.

C

Your (e/c) eyes scanned over the swift letters again and again trying to discern some sort of clue to who the mystery writer was. Your thoughts began to turn into wild ideas over the identity of the messenger. The only thing you could discern was that this person was a high-profile individual who regarded their privacy to the utmost extent, or that they were such a shy person that they feared being traced through their device. Either way, you couldn't stop the odd tingling buzzing through your fingertips with each second. You bit your lip and smiled more, as the light from your monitor lit up the emerald letters with a soft glow. So mysterious, but so intriguing at the same time.

How could you turn an opportunity like this down?

Ignoring your emails again, you pulled a small writing set from deep within your desk and opened it up for the very first time. You had bought it years ago with the intention of having some professional stationery to compliment your business when you had to send off any paperwork related to you, but since the world had adapted to a more electronic means, it sat in its dark corner slowly gathering dust.

At least now was the time you could use it.

Taking a deep purple pen in hand, you started penning your response.

Dear C,

I'd be lying if I said your letter hadn't captured my attention the moment I received it. I'd have to say, you're the first person to reach out to me via this means, and I am interested in what you need me for. I just hope there's enough time for my reply to get to you in time before you need me. Perhaps contacting me through my email might be easier for us to communicate more effectively?

As you may be aware, I'm open to being an attendee to meet your concerns by any means necessary, and I have a satisfaction guarantee policy for all of my clientele. Before we can discuss pricing and get contracts signed, I have to first ask what you need my services for. As per my terms and conditions listed on my site, we can only successfully come to an agreement if both parties consent to all conditions expressed on both ends. Standard legal practice etc.

I'm more than excited at what sort of thing might be on my horizon, but I can't wait to hear your needs.

Yours faithfully,

Sugar

With a flourish, you signed the bottom of the letter with your looping scrawl of your stage name, the buzzing inside moving from your fingers to course through all of your body.As an afterthought, you added an addendum to your reply.

Addendum: I also require at least one meeting in person with all clients to finalise all binding contracts.

You didn't. You just needed to satisfy your curiosity.

With that, you folded your letter and slipped it into your own envelope, addressing the front carefully with the listed address, as your business name Pick Your Poison winked up at you with the final seal.

The moment you dropped that little envelope into the express mail chute, something inside you stirred up. An odd sense like you had just altered your future in the blink of any eye. Your stomach did an odd flip and you felt a fresh crop of goose bumps prickle over your skin, despite the warm sun pressing its heat into you on such a beautiful day. The adrenaline high still wound its way through your being, but you blamed it on a sugar rush from the chocolate pastries you ate just before.

Now it was just a waiting game.