“Come in. We can start immediately.”
Usually, Kayla was the one to start the preliminaries but they’d decided this time Brad would do the honors.
“Ms Taylor. I’m Brad and this is Kayla.” He took a step toward her but she stepped back and held up her hand.
“No touching. Not yet. Come in quickly. Sit on the couch.”
Kayla followed Brad, almost stumbling on the thick carpet. The room contained a couple of sumptuous creamy-gold damask couches and what looked like an antique rose wood coffee table. A matching sideboard covered with exotic fruits gave the room a decadent air. Even though the heavy gold brocade curtains were open to a view of Sydney Harbour, no one could see in. A bedroom opened off the main room.
Kayla hadn’t felt this awkward and nervous since her first time. She’d been on her own then. It went the way most first times go; hot, sweaty and distasteful. But she’d gritted her teeth and endured. After a week, she’d got used to it and on the whole, it wasn’t too bad.
She had a talent for pleasing her clients. Most of the time she knew what they were thinking and feeling. Many felt shame or terror or contempt for what they were doing with her, but always at the end of their sessions, she knew she’d eased what ever was bothering them. It became important for her to know they’d ask for her again.
Quickly she’d become a draw card, so could pick and choose the clients she wanted. Then she met Brad. They set up independently specializing in threesomes and voyeur work. Business was good. More to the point, they were good.
From the beginning she and Brad agreed that to be successful and build a good client base, they had to be as genuine as possible. That meant faking could only be a last resort. Sometimes it was unavoidable, because the client was, to put it bluntly, a dud. In that situation, they declined further contracts. In the last two years, they’d built a solid reputation.