Who was I becoming? Before I could even try to answer my own question, a shiny black car pulled into the parking lot, stopping right in front of me. I waited for some type of action from them, but no one got out. Sighing, I stood slowly and walked over to the back door.
Pulling it open slowly, I peeked inside. A man dressed in a dark-brown suit was the driver, but he never took his eyes off the steering wheel.
“Gita?” he said in a thick German accent.
“Yes?” I croaked, slightly forgetting that I had given myself the name.
“Get in. You don’t have much time.”
“So,” I started to say, hoping to make the ride less awkward. “What’s your name?”
“Freddie,” he answered at once.
“Oh, cool. How long—”
“No questions. There’s no need for that,” Freddie scoffed, cutting me off.
I nodded awkwardly. Conversation wasn’t my strong point, but I tried to spark it up occasionally, when things were too quiet.
The ride was impossibly fast. We reached a black building in the very back of a busy plaza. There were tons of people walking about, chattering happily with shopping bags in their hands. It was a ritzy area, which made sense. Rich men probably wandered into the escort building as a treat to themselves.
My heart was racing in my chest as we pulled into the parking space. Freddie turned off the car, then pointed a long, pale finger toward a red door.
“Enter there. Say Freddie brought you. They will take it from there.”
I nodded and nervously opened the car door. The red door looked like the gateway to hell as I approached it. Freddie sped away, leaving me shuffling toward my fate. My heels felt too high, and the dress suddenly seemed as if it would pop open.
“Just open it, you coward,” I muttered to myself. With a very sweaty hand, I opened the red door which was surprisingly heavy. As soon as it was opened, I found a completely different world inside.
The walls were red, and the carpet was black with red trim. I cautiously stepped one foot after the other, amazed by the atmosphere. Soft jazz music was playing, and there was a large red couch in the middle of the room. Several young women dressed in lavish clothes were lazily sitting down. Some smoked cigarettes, others applied lipstick and fixed their hair. They were beautiful. So beautiful that I wanted to ask them their names.
“Hello, may I help you?” a man’s voice suddenly asked, causing me to whirl around quickly. He was a tall man with blond, slicked-back hair. He was clearly wearing makeup, and it matched perfectly with his black and red suit.
“I’m L-, err Gita. Freddie brought me,” I squeaked, the words flying out of me. The man suddenly smiled, his lips stretched across his plastic face.
“Welcome, Gita. We’re glad to see you’re interested in our company. Please sit and wait for one of our professionals to call you in for your interview.”
I forced a smile back, then wobbled to the long red couch. I assumed the girls would scoot over to give me room, but no one budged. Squeezing in on the very edge, I tried to make myself comfortable.
I sat there waiting patiently for my interview. The more I sat quietly, the more I fidgeted with my hair. The building was beautiful with expensive paintings on the walls. They had it decorated very classy. You would never know what was conducted in this building.
I saw a beautiful woman, probably in her 30s with long blonde hair and a handsome man with broad shoulders and tousled hair walking toward me. The man was probably in his 40s and was wearing a suit. A suit that you could tell was tailored specifically to him. If my clients looked like him, this job would be a breeze.
“Good morning, I’m Dr. Shepard, and this is Ms. Robinson. Would you like to come back, so we can start your interview?”
“Of course,” I replied, hoping the sweat from my underarms wasn’t showing on my dress.
He extended his hand and walked with me to the office. There was an L-shaped desk, a black leather couch, and a couple of office chairs. I sat down in the chair without being asked. I kept myself from speaking because I wasn’t sure how to start the conversation. I didn’t want to say something stupid, so I just waited to be quizzed.
“So, Gita, what makes you want to work for us?” Dr. Shepard asked, looking me over.
I couldn’t help but think to myself, with you as a boss, who wouldn’t want to work for you? I tried to stay focused, but I couldn’t. I began to feel hot, which in turn made me even more nervous. “Well, I am a college student. I need something to help pay my way. My scholarship doesn’t cover all of it.”
“Well, first, I commend you for going to college. That’s a smart thing to do. I do want to let you know we only hire the best of the best. Our clients want beautiful, classy women to escort them to events. We can’t have anyone that is childish or grungy.”
Crap, I had failed. Maybe I should have worn something else. He didn’t like my outfit. Well, much to his dismay, I wasn’t going to come dressed in a skimpy outfit. That’s not how I would dress to escort someone to a business dinner. “Do I not look okay? I thought this would be proper. I have more classier clothes I can wear.”
“No, you look fine. In fact, you have a body that most men would kill to be close to. You’re a brunette with curly hair, which is most commonly asked for, and you obviously keep in shape. I have no doubt in my mind that you would do great here,” he said, while carefully taking my body measurements in, almost like he was keeping them for his memory.