Hey folks! Here's more setup... hope you're enjoying it still! :)
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Valentine Evenings had come about in a strange way. The first apartment that Sarah had shared in West Hollywood wasn't too far away from Sunset Boulevard which is where her first interaction with a call-girl had taken place.
Vonda Bomba, a tall raven haired twenty-something, was already a veteran. She would hang out by the bus shelter where Sarah picked up the bus most days. One afternoon, Vonda had asked to bum a ciggie from her, and Sarah answered with, "Yeah, sorry 'bout that. Don't smoke. You know they can kill you, right?"
Vonda had grimaced, returning with, "I was trying to quit anyways. My pimp says they make the johns nervous. They don't want their wives to know they been hangin' 'round with smokers." she cackled, "But they sure know it anyway when I make sure to leave my lipstick on their pants and shirts! Gotta plant it just...right. Y'know, doing my public service to warn the wives?"
Sarah had laughed and then pulled herself up short, "What? You have a pimp? You look healthy and... normal. And wouldn't warning their wives cut into your business?" She had looked over Vonda's low cut sapphire maxi dress, noting the healthy glow of her olive skin. "I thought girls who hooked got beat up by their pimps," she came back candidly, eyebrow raised.
Vonda had smirked,"Jaime treats me good," she struck a helpless pose – her hand at her brow and a overdone look of desperation, "Some of us working girls need a man to manage things behind the scenes. Never mind that I have a degree in International Business, pfftttt." She rolled her chocolate eyes.
"What. The. Hell. You should be an actress with the dramatic flair you've got!" Sarah had been shocked and a little scared if what Vonda said was true. Well, my liberal arts degree is crap for sure now.
"Girl, why you think a chica like me is even out here in Los Angeles? For the free rent?"
Sarah narrowed her eyes, "You're not really a street hooker, are you?"
The young latin woman grinned mischievously and winked, "Naw. I'm a call girl, sweet cheeks."
"What's the difference, really?" Sarah'd snorted and checked her watch. The bus would be there soon.
"Oh doll, there's a world of difference! I don't have to cruise the corners looking for dates – they come to Jaime and he calls me in – hence the term 'call girl'. During the day, I get to my auditions if I got any, and my nights are spent meeting Johns and making moola. Everybody gotta get paid, y'know."
A pitying look from Sarah followed by, "That's kinda... well, a sad life. Have you gotten any breaks yet? In show business I mean, not from a client," she had winced at the faux pas.
Vonda waived Sarah's concern off, "Puhlease, I'm a survivor. It's all good." She smiled blindingly, "I'm sure it'll be anytime soon now when I get the call, yeah. 'Vonda Bomba' in lights. I can see it now. The guys call me 'Boom Boom Bomba'. What's your name mija? I can't just keep thinking of you as 'the pasty white gringa girl at the bus stop'."
Sarah had laughed and her reservations of befriending this fiesty woman had crumbled. Introductions were made; Vonda commented that "Sarah Williams was way too white bread for living in the neighborhood" which made them both giggle as they rode the transit their separate ways that day.
Vonda had turned into a true friend over the course of many conversations and several months. Sarah had realized that both of the girls were wasting their talents and deserved a shot at being legitimate and filling a real need in the social world of Hollywood.
The double super bonus – Vonda wouldn't have to sell her body anymore – just her sparkling personality and witty repartee while getting some use out of that business degree. Yep, it was a real degree; Sarah had seen it. The paper was framed and everything – authentic from the prestigious Cal Poly Tech itself.
They ended up getting an apartment together a year into their unlikely friendship – she'd been relieved to leave behind those bottle-bleached-bitch-wanna-be-actress-roommates. Who knew they would not only steal her food but her damn tampons, too! Vonda and Sarah had moved into a rat trap of a two bedroom apartment that overlooked a dumpster. It was a fourth floor walk-up, but it had free cable and was rent controlled. For two out-of-work actresses during the daytime, they did alright. Eventually they had been able to afford separate residences – and Sarah bought her own condo.
Nighttime was where they made the dinero though. Vonda was adamant that she could continue her call girl lifestyle with Jaime as her pimp, but demanded that he take Sarah on as a legit escort so she could make some dough, and have some frame of reference for the industry, but not have to 'work it' as Vonda called the sex acts with clients.
The first few 'dates' with Johns had been nerve wracking for Sarah; until she began imagining the men she was out with – powerful, rich, intelligent men – were Jareth. She pictured his face over the poor saps as she ate dinner, danced, socialized, and kept the conversation funny and clever with these mere mortals. By the end of the evening, most of the men had convinced themselves that she wanted their bodies. If Sarah had a dollar for every time a man tried to weasel into her taxi home, she'd be rich. Well, richer, she grinned.
She always kept everything professional – up to the point where she closed the heavy yellow cab door in their faces with a false apology and a sweet, "Don't forget the fun we had tonight!" She was such a bitch, she had laughed. It kept the guys coming back for more though. Men loved a hard to get woman, she'd determined, after her initial clientele started making repeated reservations for her time.
The women figured out early on that Jaime was doing it all wrong. He wasn't using technology to keep track of the girls he had, their schedules, or how much was coming in versus outgoing cash. The girls knew they had to go into business themselves; and that's just what they did. Marketing themselves as "The Women Who Knew Too Much" they were able to pick up authentic business and legitimatized their small company. Vonda was able to stop 'working it', finally. They had a clientele of twenty rotating Hollywood movers and shakers by the end of their first six months, thanks to Jaime's contacts in the industry. Jaime proved to be an invaluable source of other insight and information though, so when he decided to leave 'the biz', he made sure to press the girls into taking his Johns.
They lost some of Jaime's guaranteed money with the name and policy change (no sex!) – but with Sarah's other contacts in the film and print industry, they eventually picked up about seventy five qualified girls that she had vetted herself, and over five hundred clients. Any given red carpet event had at least five of V.E.'s girls on the arm of some successful industry type, smiling demurely for the camera. They further weeded out the chaff and kept the cream of the men, but they knew they needed a better business name. Something catchy that would remind their key demographic of romance and all that it entailed. And potentially keep the guys in check - hands off the merchandise and all.
They were both undecided until Sarah had the dream.
She dreamed of the masked ball Jareth had ensnared her within, and being in the protected circle of his lovely muscled arms. He was singing to her, "I'll paint you mornings of gold/I'll spin you Valentine evenings/Though we're strangers 'til now/We're choosing the path/Between the stars." as his beautiful blue and brown eyes sparkled at her. His flyaway blonde hair tickling her face as he leaned in towards her... and then she tripped in the dream and fell through the crystal. Waking up in bed, gasping, Sarah knew she and Vonda had their company name.
Clients – they serviced men exclusively – called, ordered their perfect date, and if Valentine Evenings had the woman, information was exchanged, contracts were signed, money exchanged hands, and the time and place was set up. All the women were checked in as "active status" on the V.E. system before they were dropped off with their 'date', and had to come back to the office by the agreed upon hour to check in and clock out. They had a reliable limo service that always transported the girls for the evening, so there was no issue about a woman safely arriving and leaving at all hours of the night.
Every woman was paid according to her 'KSAs – Knowledge, Skills, and Abilities. Each woman was also required to see the company physician once a month for a physical check up and consultation on their mental health. It culled the crazies – read, stalkers – from infiltrating the ranks of professional and honest women who took their job seriously. Seniority amongst the women also commanded a nice pay increase as well. It was all very legitimate and above board.
Some women chose to offer extra services a la carte – this was a no-no – to longterm clients aka 'Frequent Fliers'. "Valentine Evenings" was not legally held responsible where these men were concerned because the services were exchanged after the allotted 'date' terms. Most clients however were considered above reproach as they attended social functions and did little in the physical realm with the girl on their arm for the evening. Essentially, every man wanted the status symbol of a beautiful, smart woman capable of handling herself in a room of political or societal barracudas. If their was money for sex involved after the 'date', then so be it. It was off the clock and not V.E's problem.
Sarah leaned back in her chair to stretch and glanced at the clock. "Mmm... almost four. I should be able to head out soon. Hey, Tina!' she yelled over the cubicle wall, "Did you get your reservation notice from me?" She waited, listening carefully. All she heard was a soft snore. This eight to four am shift was a bit hard on some people, she allowed, but not her. She rather preferred the overnights to finish her undergrad business class work. No matter what age, school sucks.
Vonda felt the same, she grinned. The former call girl had returned to school to get her PhD in Business – and was currently out of state visiting her family in New Mexico. Sarah couldn't wait until she got back – then she could go on vacation for a couple weeks finally.
She sighed inwardly, if only she had taken her dreams from Jareth when he offered them. Granted, she had been just a kid, and that would have bordered on pedophilia; she cringed. Nevermind, she told herself, don't think about him again. You know what happens when you do that... You consume half a bottle of wine and ask the mirror to show you his bulge. Ugh.
The raised flesh of her arms and the sudden swirling of cool air around her alerted her to her body's own response whenever she thought of Jareth, her Goblin King.
Yeah, sure he's MY Goblin King, she rolled her eyes and started cleaning up her desk to leave. Her nipples pebbled and she started feeling flashes of heat in all her erogenous zones. I vanquished him, and not once have I ever regretted it. But shit, those tight hose... wow … As a woman, Sarah wanted a closer peek at whatever he was packin' in those tights. No more peeking through the mirror at him, she vowed. NO MORE. Three-fifty eight am and counting.