It’s hard to forget your first anything: first love. First sex. First heartbreak. First time on a plane. First pregnancy. First job. First one million in the account. First car. First trip out of the country. First designer bag or perfume. First time at the University. First cash-out from a really good business deal. First Chinese food ever. And all the list of firsts you’ve experienced.
My first time as a classy escort (in your vocabs runs girl) was uncomfortable. As you’d expect from a young girl who is giving a piece of herself for the very first time,to a total stranger, all for the dough.💰 #imakemoneymoves
I met my first client at a lavish birthday party. It was on a Friday night. I remember receiving a text from my boss ( we’d get to this chain of command thingy much later. Hopefully today, or maybe not).
Nora you’re invited to an all white birthday party at Gallant hotel. Time is 9pm. Your contact is a Mr Henry. I sent his picture on your WhatsApp. Here’s his number, when you get to the venue ,call him. +23470378****6 Don’t be late. Dress classy and smell wonderful.
Somehow, I had expected a much older man. You know, like a zaddy in his mid fifties. Instead I got introduced to a young man in let’s say his late thirties. This made me even more uncomfortable. I got a nagging feeling that he might judge me,or even question why I decided to be this kind of entrepreneur. He had that warm concerned look of a big brother, and it bothered me. I’m here for business please.
It ended up being mere speculation, because he didn’t ask me any questions of any sort. After the party, he led me to his hotel room, asked me to get comfortable. In this line of work, when your client says get comfortable, they mean strip. Seduce. Give it to them like no one else has. Pretty much like how you go to a fancy restaurant and expect exquisite dishes. This man wanted his money’s worth.
I took a minute, went to the rest room and then freaked out. I started panic-texting my boss and outlined a thousand and one reason why I couldn’t be comfortable. Have sex. Whatever. For one I was a virgin. I’ve always had a dream that my first sex would be with the love of my life, and on my wedding night. And now look at me.
After few words of ginger from my boss, mostly reminders of how tough things were with my mum and brothers, and how I had an opportunity to make things better. I walked back into the room with wild fire in my bones and with the sole aim to give my client a five star experience.
I don’t intend to be an escort forever. I only need to pack up the kind of money that will ensure that me and my family will never go broke in our lives ever again.
I have a plan. Yes. You heard me a plan. To make numerous investments: first in landed properties and then help my mum establish a profitable business and lastly, invest in my school. Of course I’m a big time intellectual, and I’ve always wanted me be a career woman. One of my goals is to go to Havard for a business MBA. It’s a lofty dream, I know. But I’d make it happen.
Like every plan we make, everything looks good on paper, like the road that leads up to your dream is one quiet straight road. When in real life the road that leads to your dreams is one hell of a road. Full of pain, uncertainties, failures and mistakes. Yet, if you’re able to go through all of that, resounding success is yours to take.
I guess nobody knew life enough to warn me of the misery ahead.
…To be continued