My dear little broccolis💚💚💚
💚 This is a re-upload, Until chapter 8
💚 So, I want to put this reminder here. This story contains DIRTY TALKING. If it's not your kink, don't read, or at least don't complain about it. It's not going to be heavy, but it's still going to be there.
💚 And as you can guess from the title, sex workers will be involved in this story. And I will say it here, you are entitled to your opinion, however, you are not entitled to disrespect other people in the comment section. So I will play the patrol police, and delete any demeaning comments against those who exercise this profession.
💚 How Much💚
Christian has some singular taste when it comes to his sexual preferences, but he's never dared voice them. He never manages to climax because of that, and it leaves him frustrated. One night, he decides to try the last solution that comes to his mind …
‼️Rated M - {Out Of Characters/All Human/Alternate Universe}‼️
‼️Romance/Family/Drama/Lemons‼️
‼️AS/CG/Carrick Grey/Raymond Steele/Elliott/Gia‼️
💚 READ & REVIEW, DON'T BE A SILENT READER 💚
Chapter 1: How Much For A Girl? (2.1K)
Christian's PoV
Life can be funny sometimes. In the cruelest way. For instance, I have it all, I never needed for anything. I never actually struggled in life. All my problems have always been what the rest of the world would call "first-world problems". And yet, I never felt fully satisfied. As if there was something holding me back.
It took me years to realise what it was. At first, I thought it was a lack of purpose since I have the luck to have been born into an extremely wealthy family. My father is a well-known politician. Not quite the president (probably due to his lack of scandals) but still high up in the White House. My mother … was from old money. Though she didn't really like to think of it. The wealth of her family was built on the back of slaves, and even though there was nothing she could do about it, being only a descendant, she still felt guilty about it.
Up until the day she died, she tried to make the world a better place. She had so many charities that I'm pretty sure Mother Theresa looks ridiculous next to her, up in Heaven. Though I'm also pretty sure that my mother would chide me for comparing Mother Theresa to anyone.
But anyway … As I said, I first thought it was a lack of purpose. So I built myself a company. It started as something as ridiculous as an app. Mostly because, still to this day, I like the anonymity. No one knows what an app creator looks like.
The first app I developed was a game. Some silly free game people could get quickly addicted to, and then they ended up paying tons of money to access other levels even faster. Then, I made something a bit more useful. An app for students, to help them organise their lectures and share them across the board. This one isn't the most profitable per se, but the ad revenue clearly makes up for it. It was after my third app (directed toward business) that I decided to branch out.
At this point, I was already a billionaire (though very few people knew that). I started investing in stocks. I didn't necessarily go for the most profitable, but the most durable. One or two in each branch. Technology, food, agriculture, automobile, and real estate (though for this one, I also went for the practical road).
But even with all these accomplishments, I still feel empty, unfulfilled, and unsatisfied.
Now, after years of introspecting, I know why. It's because I never actually let myself completely loose. After all, I always played a role. With everyone. With my parents, with my siblings, with society, with my girlfriend (who happens to be my best friend).
We were actually engaged with Gia, but every time I pressured her to take the next step, she turned me down. Probably because we've been friends since childhood, and she knows that I'm just going through the motions. After all, everyone expects us to get married, even though we don't come from the same social circle. I mean, her mother was just the maid, not that I ever really cared.
My father loves Gia like a daughter, and my mother literally adored her. So everyone thought we would end up together. Everyone … but Gia.
"Why do you keep saying no? Do you get off constantly rejecting me?"
Gia chuckles, shaking her head as she rolls her eyes, putting the hot iron in her hair to make it curl. What girls do to be pretty … You'll never see me bring so close to my face a piece of metal burning over well over 400°F!
"I'll marry you the day you'll be honest with yourself, Christian."
I scoff. "I'm not honest with myself? Are you a secret psychic who can read my mind? I think I'd know if I wasn't honest with myself."
She gives me a look, the one she always has when she knows she's right and I'm wrong. How this look annoys me sometimes. It's annoying to have someone know you so well … but in the meantime, I wouldn't have it any other way.
Gia puts down her instrument of torture, before hesitating into taking another one. The eyelash curler. Honestly, God chose wisely when He decided that I would be a man. Because … nope. The only grooming I do I shaving, and going to the barber once a month for a fresh haircut. That nonsense of waxing, threading, curling, painting … not for me.
And let's not talk about period pain. I've seen Gia curled up in half because of that shit. I mean, when I stub my toe against furniture, I limp for a whole week. And yet, Gia has her insides on fire, and still goes on with her day. The female species is on another level …
She puts down the mortal instrument and turns to look at me. We've been living together for two years now. Well, officially … I mean, unofficially, we've been living together since we were kids. But it's the first time that I am feeling … odd in her presence.
"I feel you're missing something. And I feel I can't give it to you."
"Don't be ridiculous."
She raises an eyebrow at me, daring me to try to contradict her even further. "For a long time, I thought it was some stupid male ego thing. Trying to outdo your father and prove yourself and shit. But … we both know that's not it. Your father isn't here once we switch off the light …"
I keep staring at her, not sure of what I can actually say. She's right. I hold back. But … what I want to try, I can't decently try with her. Especially not with her. Because I don't think I could stand her looking down on me afterwards.
After this conversation, we called off the engagement. It was what was fair for both of us. I wasn't happy, and she wasn't happy that I wasn't happy. But we're still friends. Though I still didn't tell her about what I really want. I don't think I can ever tell anyone, to be fair.
It's been a year since we went our separate ways. And I still haven't found the courage to try it. It's just … shameful. It's not how my mother raised me. And I know she'd be probably ashamed and disappointed in me if she knew. She raised me well. She raised me to respect others, especially women. And here I am, fantasising about verbally degrading them. There is definitely something wrong with me.
I look down at the number Elliott gave me. Elliott is my male best friend, but sometimes … sometimes I wonder how we are even friends. He is everything I am not. Carefree, living in the moment, and abrupt … Which is why he gave me this number a few months ago. A couple of months after the separation to be exact.
An escort service number …
To avoid blue balls he said. At this point, my balls are black. It's been more than a year, and I never actually jerked on my own. I blame my parents and their upbringing for that. They raised me, telling me that semen was actually a sacred thing since it created life and that it shouldn't be wasted for something as selfish as self-pleasure… I was twelve, but twenty years later, it still impacts me the same.
But maybe I should. Instead of degrading myself (and someone else) into calling for a prostitute and satisfying my deranged fantasies. Better only humiliate myself in the darkness of this hotel room. There is no need to call for a hooker. I mean, this could get out, and it would be the one scandal in my father's career.
This had been the debate raging inside of me for the past months. Always, I would almost call, and always, I would chicken out. It's not much the rejection or disappointment, but more the shame … my mother didn't raise me like this …
But then again, if I call a prostitute, that's why she's here for, isn't she? Surely, a hooker would have heard, seen, and endured worse than me. Some crazy kinks old pervs couldn't do with their wives. Is this what I'll become? Am I going to end up marrying some sweet and clueless girl, and come here once a month to get my kicks …
Am I that pathetic?
Well, I'll never know if I don't try. So finally, after months of chickening out, I call the agency. Let's go for Mr T. The matron doesn't seem bothered by this. Mr T. business. Still, she asks many questions, and I'm sure she knows I'm a newbie. I mean, I'm sure it's obvious.
I ask for the girlfriend experience because the other options were just … out of the question. I don't really care what she looks like. I don't really think I have a type. I mean, the walls of my teenage years were plastered with posters of Halle Berry, Jessica Alba, Michelle Yeoh, Alyssa Milano, Gabrielle Union, Sandra Bullock, and many more.
The matron reminds me that I'll have to pay in cash and that the girl can always refuse something she isn't comfortable with. She also assures me that discretion is the essence of their job, but I don't worry much about that. I already have an NDA with me.
To be honest, it's not much my reputation that I'm trying to protect, but more my father's. He could still run, and I don't want to stain his career with a scandal. Especially that sort of scandal. And … he would definitely look down on me.
I wait for an hour, twice taking the phone to order room service, before retracting myself. Do you feed a hooker before she services you? Pretty Woman says so, but I know better than to base my decisions on Hollywood fantasies.
Still, I take a shower and make sure twice that the condoms are on the nightstand. I shouldn't be so nervous. What's the worst that can happen? A stranger I'll never see again telling me no? What's the big deal? And anyway, she's paid to act out my fantasy. She doesn't know how I treat my girlfriends.
Finally, there is a knock on the door. I look at myself in the mirror and put on my poker face. I don't want a hooker to make fun of me because I'm a rookie at this. I should pretend I'm Elliott. I've already done this. To avoid blue balls …
And actually, maybe after trying it, I'll realise it's actually not for me. It was just a fantasy, and once acted out, it won't be as appealing.
So I open the door to Miss Rose Pink. That's what the matron said her name was. Though I'm pretty sure it's a fake name. As is 99.99% sure. Unless she's from the game Cluedo …
And Miss Pink is … really pink. It's the first thing I see. Pink hair, in a bob. Though it's obvious it's a wig. She's short, petite even, with pale white skin hidden by a cute little black dress, that has a white stripe at the end of the skirt. Her face is … odd … though I'm pretty sure it's because of the colour of her hair. Dark hair would suit her best. Especially with those beautiful blue eyes, sparkling with life and playfulness.
She smirks at me, raising an eyebrow as I didn't invite her in, and she tells me, "Hey, handsome."
.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.
💚Your thoughts and opinions are always welcomed💚
💚 So, we have the first chapter and the introduction of Christian. Quite angsty, but rather different from the original. Ana will come, just as different, and, though I love Dakota, she is too sweet and precocious for the Ana I have in mind. So for this story, I see more of Alexandra Daddario with her gorgeous eyes.
💚 Anyway, I am curious about what you think of Ana and how/why she is doing this particular job. And just want to remind everyone, this is a work of fiction. The probability of this happening in real life is pretty slim …
💚Well, let me know what you thought of this chapter. What was your favourite part? What do you think will happen next?
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💚 E L James owns the names of the characters from the Fifty Shades franchise, Everything else is mine (including the mistakes and grammar errors).
Love, Mina 💚💚💚