Brittany lived in a high-rise condominium that was more spacious than Rachel's brownstone, or so it seemed, due to the simplicity of her furniture. A leather couch, shelves, and a coffee table facing towards a wide-screen television. Rachel sat on a bar stool overlooking the balcony as she sipped her double-shot of espresso while Brittany fried up some eggs and toasted some bread. She sliced up a bowl of fruit for Rachel to fill her stomach, still empty from last night. But Rachel won't have a bite.

"You need to eat." Brittany said, exasperated. "If you don't, you might get sick, and I can't have that happen."

Rachel sighed and nibbled on a strawberry. "I just can't, Brittany. I'm still so messed up from yesterday." She rubbed her throbbing head and her sore neck. She slept on Brittany's couch late last night after the phone call. Brittany sensed that something was off for Rachel to change her mind so quickly, and so asked if she wanted to come over.

Now, she was nursing her pale porcelain espresso cup, playing with her food, and deaf to everything Brittany was saying. Even as she tried to bribe Rachel by promising her favourite vegan cake, the actress refused to emerge from her bout of depression. This wasn't about Finn at all.

It was about how now, Rachel was alone.

Brittany stood in front of Rachel with her platter of eggs and toast. She chewed quietly, waiting for Rachel to speak. Yet she did not, as if her tongue left her just like Finn did. However, Brittany was patient. She spent the entire day lounging around with Rachel, no longer forcing her to talk nor to eat. They watched a few movies, read through magazines and fan mail, until finally, Rachel called out Brittany's name.

"I'm not the kind of girl who just sits here while the world thinks I'm heartbroken." She vowed, the fire in her eyes ignited by something brighter and more ferocious. "I don't want Finn back. We were over the moment we graduated high school. Those years we spent apart, I don't remember missing him, because I was too caught up in school and auditions and… I'm better without him!" Rachel shot off the couch and beamed at Brittany, who watched her with pride in her eyes. "Forget what PR will think when they hear about this. I hired them to clean this kind of thing up for me anyway."

"And he's gay. Congratulations to him." Brittany said while she crossed her legs and threw the magazine on the coffee table. "But you said you wanted what I offered you. The prostitute."

Rachel blinked and nodded slowly. "I do. I haven't changed my mind about it yet. You need to tell me all about how it works. I don't want to miss out on any detail."

"Of course. I didn't expect anything less." Brittany grinned and grabbed her laptop. She booted it up and logged into her email and onto a private website that included a complicated password—at least complicated in Rachel's point of view. "Quinn's really good at what she does."

"She?" Rachel demanded as page loaded, showing a… for lack of better word, handsome blonde with the eyes that encouraged a girl to do whatever they wished. "Britt, I'm straight—"

"At this point, that doesn't matter. It's 2023, Rachel. I thought you're past caring about sexuality? Haven't you evolved?" Brittany said as she clenched and opened up her fists. "Rachel, don't be annoying for five minutes, okay? Quinn calls herself a woman, but she has a dick. And personally, it's awesome because she's like a girl with the way she thinks and speaks and acts, but she has a lady cock that she uses way, way better than any man."

Rachel's eyes narrowed. "How do you know?"

"Easy. I had sex with her before. Anyway," Brittany scrolled through Quinn's website and clicked on her portfolio. It revealed tasteful images of the half-naked woman, dressed in nothing but a pair of stonewashed jeans that were unzipped. Rachel licked her lips for they were dry, and released a soft breath. She had abs, and her Adonis Belt was defined, and… Rachel was definitely uncomfortable now, and she blamed the lack of action for the past eleven months. She squirmed in her seat, and beside her Brittany giggled. "What?"

"Oh nothing." Brittany hummed as she scrolled down the photo gallery. She tapped the mouse pad and it enlarged a photo of Quinn wearing nothing but tight boxer briefs, a white button down draped over her shoulders, and a loose neck tie around her neck. It wasn't so much the lack of clothing that appealed to Rachel—it did, more than words could say—but it was the way Quinn stared into the camera's lens that drove Rachel wild and short of breath. Her hazel eyes smouldered and left molten heat in Rachel's lower belly. "She's hot, right?"

Rachel cleared her throat. "Does she… Have photos of her co—her penis?"

Brittany smirked. "She has you now. No one asks for photos of her lady cock until they really want to sleep with her. But no, none on her website. Quinn said that if she posted her dick pics online, people would find a way to get to it, and she would lose business. Why pay money when you can just download them, get a dildo for eighty bucks, and masturbate to the thought of it pounding inside you?" Brittany closed the image and it elicited a soft whimper in the back of Rachel's throat. "But I can guarantee you that Quinn is worth every dollar. That is, if you're willing to pay for her services."

"How much?"

Brittany pulled up a catalogue of sorts, and the prices that leapt out of the screen made Rachel gasp. "Four hundred bucks for three hours? That's so expensive!"

"Four hundred bucks for at least ten gasping, shaking, intense orgasms? I don't think so." Brittany leaned back and crossed her legs, offering the laptop to Rachel. Quinn's prices were exuberant, to be sure, but Rachel couldn't help but want to see for herself if every penny was indeed worth paying for. To be with Quinn for ten hours cost $700, and for fifteen hours, $900. She had long-term rates as well: $5 500 a week, $10 000 a month, and fifty grand for six months.

After a few moments of contemplating the prices, Rachel released a breath. "Nine hundred dollars, huh?"

Brittany grinned and took the laptop back from Rachel. "So you're willing to pay for fifteen hours? You can afford it, of course. No problems there. I can call her today and tell her about you. I'll give her your address, and she'll be there as soon as she can. Is that okay?"

"Definitely. But, Britt—will she be, you know, secretive about this? Actors who seek out prostitutes, even when promised with confidentiality are often found out. Look at Hugh Grant and Tiger Woods!"

Shaking her head, the blonde manager rose and pulled Rachel up with her. "You haven't heard any of the female cast of Perfect Link being caught with anything resembling a sex scandal, have you? Even though Quinn had been with them for at least two years? Quinn is the ladies' choice, Rachel. I promise every dime is worth it. She's fun, easy to like, and great to talk to."

"The cast of Perfect Link? Seriously?" Rachel nibbled on her bottom lip and relaxed, resigning herself to the idea of paying for sexual release. "You go ahead and tell her, while I go home and… Deal with what Finn left."

The sickening stench of Finn, sweat, and male sex lingered when Rachel stepped inside their—no, it's just her bedroom now. She focused on not gagging despite her lack of reflex. She covered her mouth and nose and thought about nothing that concerned Finn, and it wasn't difficult at all. It was then that Rachel realised that something like this was bound to happen, and so she felt at peace with the fact that Finn cheated on her. With a man.

That was not the problem. She entered her bedroom, loathing Finn for leaving a mess that she had to clean up. At least he had the decency to put towels down and not ruin the mattress. Rachel grabbed a pair of her longest kitchen tongs and dumped the towel into a black garbage bag to be taken away by her housekeeper. Rachel scowled at the bed for a few moments, before she decided that it would be best to tear the bed sheets, the duvet cover and the pillow cases as well, tossing them inside the same garbage bag as the towel.

Rachel rinsed her hands and replaced the sheets with fresh ones and lit pomegranate candles that filled the room with earthy, fruity scents. She closed her eyes and closed the bedroom door to have a snack of crisp roti bread slathered with hummus. As she sipped her tall glass of mango juice laced with vodka, the doorbell rang.

She peeked through the glass pane, her breath hitching at the sight of a tall, slender blonde. It was Quinn, already, and Rachel had yet to take a shower. She hastily fixed her shirt and her hair before opening the door. "I didn't expect you to come so soon. Or today, even."

The slow, sensuous smile that curled Quinn's lips made Rachel weak in the knees. "Sorry about that." Her voice was husky and Rachel, without having been touched, was already reeling. She cleared her throat and wrung her hands, forming a calm exterior. After all, she didn't want to appear easy in front of the prostitute. "I had time on my hands, so I'm here now. Shall I leave and come back later?"

"No!" Rachel parted her door wider and motioned for Quinn to come in. She stepped inside through the hallway and followed Rachel into the living room. Taking the offered seat, Quinn sat straight and followed Rachel's movements with her eyes. "So… You're Quinn."

"Indeed." She smiled again, the corners of her eyes crinkling. Rachel appreciated the seemingly alabaster skin of Quinn's neck, and how it was cut off by a crimson shirt with wood buttons. "Brittany told me you wanted to know if my services are worth it. I don't do free trial runs, sadly." She procured a manila envelope and offered it to Rachel. "My medical records. I bring them every time I meet a new client so you can see for yourself that I'm not lying about my health."

Rachel accepted the envelope and took out Quinn's records. She read through it and nodded her head. Quinn was clean. "Thank you. Brittany assures me that you're worth every dollar, and I trust her judgment." Her gaze raked down Quinn's tight form, lingering to the bulge in her trousers, before returning to her mild, smirking features. "I saw your pictures online, and…" Rachel cleared her throat and fought the urge to blush. She was an actress, for crying out loud! It should take more than a gorgeous blonde with a promising package to transform her into a blushing virgin.

"They're not photoshopped in any way." Quinn assured her. "Well, the lighting was altered and they colours were made brighter. But other than that, nothing else." She smiled again and spread out her arms. "Would you like to do an inspection?"

"Later," Rachel bit the inside of her lip and glanced at the watch. "Is this part of the fifteen hours?"

Quinn shook her head. "It doesn't start until we both agree it does."

"Before we start, do you promise that you won't tell anyone? About this?" Rachel demanded. "I don't want to ruin my public image by telling the world and their mother that I hire prostitutes." She said the word so scathingly, yet Quinn did not flinch. She merely raised a sculpted brow.

"I'm not interested in blackmail. Frankly, I'm not even interested on whether you're famous, so long as you can pay me." Quinn's tone took an icy tone, and Rachel found herself shivering. "I'm not in the business of feeding tabloids and trashy, so-called entertainment magazines about your personal life. I'm in the business of shattering the world you know, and rebuilding your universe, one orgasm at a time."

It was a bold statement, but Quinn executed it so deftly and with no ounce of hesitation or doubt that Rachel believed every single word. "Oh. W-well…"

Quinn chuckled and offered her hand to Rachel, which she took. They stood in the middle of Rachel's living room, the afternoon sun leaving orange beams along the hardwood floors. "If you would just read my medical records, I can also assure you that I get tested every two weeks. I do have condoms, but I take a pill that prevents me from impregnating women. It's up to you."

Rachel swallowed back her nervousness as Quinn took a step closer. She could feel the blonde's body heat exuding and enveloping Rachel's trembling body. "No condoms. And I'm clean as well. I… I haven't had sex in months."

The seductress smiled and extracted her fingers from Rachel. She cupped the actress' cheek and tipped her chin with the pads of her fingers. "Allow me to fix that. Now," Quinn cleared her throat and took a slow step back, as if in a dance. "Would you like to inspect the merchandise?" She teased, holding her arms out and offering an inviting smile that made Rachel weak-kneed. The actress offered the hustler a crooked smile. Tension had yet to dissipate from her nerves. She grasped the collar of Quinn's field jacket and tugged it off her firm shoulders. Rachel traced the exposed ridges of the blonde's collarbones and, one by one, unclasped each button.

Quinn stood still, grinning as Rachel took her time. With her shirt parted and her breasts and stomach exposed, Rachel shuddered and raked her nails along the marble skin, pale and smooth and firm. Quinn's breath hitched, and the minimal sound from that action made Rachel release a breath of her own. She sat on the edge of the couch, her thumbs hooked around Quinn's belt loops as she tugged her closer. With fumbling fingers, Rachel managed to unbutton the prostitute's trousers. She was wearing a simple pair of black boxer briefs that clung to her hips and waist and ass like second skin.

It was the sexiest bulge that Rachel had ever encountered, and the only thought that coursed through her mind was how much she wanted to see what's inside, like a present only for her. With trembling fingertips, Rachel cupped Quinn's cock through her undergarments and memorized the shape. She could feel it pulse and harden as she stroked it to complete erectness. It jutted out, the leaking tip peeking out of the waistband of Quinn's boxer briefs. It was flattering how, after only a few minutes of feeling up Quinn's penis, she was already completely erect, her length straining inside her underwear.

"Tell me, Quinn." Rachel husked, her lips tracing the line along the blonde's abdomen. "What do your clients usually ask of you?"

Quinn grunted and held Rachel's hand that rested against her hipbone. "They ask me to tie them up." She grinned and watched Rachel's teeth sink into the flesh of her hip, before she kissed a path along her waistband. "And have my way with them."

"Maybe one of these days, I'll tie you up." The actress dragged her palm against Quinn's rigid cock and pulled away. "But for now, you should show me what you can do."

Smirking, Quinn fell to her knees and situated herself between Rachel's legs. She spread them, nice and wide, her warm hands caressing the smoothness of the actress' calves. Quinn made quick work with Rachel's dress, leaving her in her lacy panties and matching bra. "Sexy," Quinn hummed, her lips pliant and tender against Rachel's bellybutton.

Months of being left high and dry during kissing and sexual scenes left Rachel sensitive and gasping as Quinn seemed to know her ticklish spots. But instead of jerking and fighting against her touch, it sent jolts of arousal through Rachel's spine. As Quinn pressed the pads of her fingers into Rachel's sides and tossed her brassiere to the floor, the actress began to whimper and claw at the blonde's back.

She palmed the soft mounds and squeezed Rachel's nipples. Quinn took one into her mouth and moistened it with her saliva. She suckled and toyed with the stiff buds, while Rachel squirmed and arched off the couch to push more of her flesh into Quinn's greedy, talented mouth. The prostitute nuzzled Rachel's thighs, soft and firm, and sank her teeth into the flesh. She parted the actress' labia and licked her lips at the delectable sight of her entrance, and her stiff clit. Quinn kissed it, and the touch sent a tremor along Rachel's spine.

"Oh!" She gasped, her body arching and trembling, as Quinn's tongue peeked out between her lips to have a taste of Rachel's juices. She teased Rachel until she was yanking and humping Quinn's mouth. "Quinn, come on!"

"Brittany's right. You don't have a patient nerve in this sexy body." Quinn smiled and as soon as her mouth parted to connect with Rachel's core, a sharp rap against the front door interrupted them.

Rachel growled in frustration, her body falling limp. She was so close. She could feel Quinn's heated breath against her slick entrance. To be interrupted must be a test for Rachel's strength. So she swallowed hard and with shaking hands, clothed herself while Quinn did the same. She had the bone to smirk, though to be fair, in her pants she had another bone entirely.

"What a shame." Quinn hummed, as if unaffected by the interruption despite the hard evidence of her arousal. "I was so close to devouring your pussy." She licked her lips and winked at Rachel. "I could smell you, and I'm sure if I close my eyes, I can feel your juices coating my tongue." Her words, rich and uttered in such dulcet tones made Rachel's knees weak—or at least, weaker.

Again, another sharp knock. Rachel stamped her feet in frustration, but fixed her attire until she looked presentable.

today's proverb: Hey little girl on a spending spree. I don't come cheap but the kisses come free. On closer inspection I'm sure that you'll agree. I'm the ladies' choice. Link Larkin; Hairspray.