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From: "John Ashcroft" <johnashcroft22@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Baby-Sitter Escort Service, Ch.3 {jashcroft}
Date: Tue, 22 Jan 2002 00:10:05 -0500
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This is mine. I wrote it; you can read it. (N.B.: "Read" is not synonymous 
with "steal," "repost," "archive," "rewrite," "redistribute," or "use on a 
pay site.")

---

If you wrote fan mail for chs.1 & 2 and I didn't answer you, I apologize, 
but let's just say I _really_ underestimated the response I was going to get 
here. If I answered all my mail, I'd have no time to write this. But story 
ideas rule--keep them coming. I can't use them all, but I'm going to use 
some of them. I can't send missing story pieces either, but here are the 
links to previous chapters in the ASSM archives at ASSTR:

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year2002/34836

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year2002/34807

---

The Baby-Sitter Escort Service

by John Ashcroft

Ch.3

A room, harsh fluorescent lights in the ceiling. A table, three people 
seated around it. One of them's a girl. She looks like Britney Spears' 
little sister: low-cut jeans, belly shirt, frosted blonde hair. Two of them 
are cops; bad suits, bad haircuts, bad attitudes. One's tall, fortyish; the 
other's on the far side of fifty, marking time until his pension kicks in.

The tall one is talking. Pensioner is rubbing his balding scalp.

"All right. So we're up to Wellington and Dillard."

"You should really talk to Tricia about Mr. Dillard," the girls says. "She 
was his favorite. I fucked him a couple of times, but he really had a thing 
about her tits. He didn't even want Lauren, you know, 'cause she's so thin."

Pensioner nods. "We're talking to her."

"She's here?"

"Next room over."

The girl sits up. "Can I talk to her?"

"Not now. We've got a lot more to cover here."

The tall one shuffles his notes for a moment. "You were talking about the 
virginity auction. Am I right that it was you and Tricia who thought that 
up?"

The girl fidgets and plays with her hair. "Well, sort of. We didn't get the 
idea for having an auction at first, and it was Lauren who thought of doing 
it that way. But yeah, it was Tricia who thought of selling it."

Pensioner shakes his head. "How much did she go for?"

The girl thinks for a moment. "It was like six thousand dollars or 
something. Do you want to talk about that now?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," the tall one says. "So you first had 
sexual relations with Neil Wellington on the same night Tricia first had 
sexual relations with Steve Dillard. What happened after that?"

"We went to the mall."

Pensioner groans. "Not the shopping. The next john."

"Oh. It was--"

---

"--Mr. Tolbert," I said.

Tricia looked up from her hamburger. We were sitting in the food court 
surrounded by shopping bags. "You think so?"

"You said you'd fuck him for free, didn't you?"

"Yeah, sure, but you think we can get him?"

"We've gotten them all so far," I said. "Why not? And one of us has to sit 
for them tonight anyway."

"Who gets him?"

"Do you want him? Since I got Mr. Wellington?"

She nodded and took a swig of her Diet Coke. "Yeah. Okay. But I'm not going 
to fuck him in his car like I did with Mr. Dillard. That so intensely 
sucked."

"Why?"

"He just had me take my jeans off and sit on it. Then he held my butt and 
moved me up and down. It was so fucking uncomfortable, and just as I was 
starting to get a little turned on, he came."

"You should try to set something up after school when you've got time, like 
I did with Mr. Taylor."

"Yeah. I'm going to try to do that."

"But get the money first. Always get the money first."

---

A little while later, we went over to Barnes & Noble. While Tricia got some 
chocolate-mocha-frappa-ccino thing at the Starbucks counter and flirted with 
the college guy behind the register (she actually hated coffee until he 
started working there), I chased down a hunch, and sure enough they had it. 
I grabbed a copy and found Tricia sitting in the corner of the cafe staring 
moodily at her crush, who of course was completely ignoring her.

"I found that book I was telling you about. The call-girl diary thing."

She glanced at it for a second but went back to watching the guy at the 
counter. I kicked her under table.

"Ow!"

"Stop being a geek. Look at this."

Now she finally paid attention. "What is it?"

"I told you about it the other night. It's all about how call girls really 
do stuff. There's all sorts of things in here we can use."

She flipped through it for a few seconds. "You know, I was thinking, we 
should get some sex manual, so we know more about what to do."

"How? They'll never let us buy anything like that."

"We'll steal it."

I glanced around nervously to see if anyone had heard her. "We could get 
busted."

"No, see, my brother showed me this, the shoplifting things work from these 
little magnetic strips they put in the all the books. If you take the strip 
out, they won't catch you."

I thought about this for a moment. "Let's go see what they've got. If 
there's anything worth stealing."

We went back into the book section and found the sex books. We'd looked at 
them lots of times before, but you had to be careful, because the staff 
would chase us away if they saw us. So when we did it, one of us would stand 
watch while the other one read. When we got to the stack, though, there was 
this creepy older guy standing there reading, and we had to wait about ten 
minutes before he finally left. When he was gone, I stood by the end of the 
row while Tricia went through the books.

"What do you think we should get?" she asked.

"One of those instruction manuals, the ones with all the pictures."

She found one pretty quickly, but it was way too big for us to steal. They 
had like two whole bookcase sections of books, but most of them either 
didn't have any pictures or were totally useless things like story 
collections.

"What about this?" She held up something entitled "How to Drive Your Man 
Wild in Bed." I took a quick look--a lot of advice I didn't understand and 
no pictures--and rejected it.

"Let me look," I said. "Get up here." We switched places, and I started 
searching. In a few minutes, I found something that might work. It was small 
enough to shove into my purse and filled with actual photographs of people 
having sex. One even showed this woman sucking a guy's dick! It wasn't all 
graphic and sleazy like a porn mag, but she definitely had his dick in her 
mouth. And all around the picture were instructions explaining just how to 
do it. I showed it to Tricia.

"Oh, my God!" she said. "Look at that!"

"I know. Let's get this."

"Okay. This is cool."

Tricia started flipping through the book looking for the magnetic strip 
she'd mentioned. It took about five minutes before she found it, but 
eventually she shook out this little thing about the size of a match stick. 
We checked to make sure no one was watching and we weren't near any one-way 
mirrors, then shoved the book and the call-girl diary thing into my purse. 
We walked out as causally as we could, and though I was scared to death 
something was going to happen, no one came after us.

We were too nervous after that to hang around the mall any longer, so we 
stuffed all the clothes we'd bought into one big Macy's bag so it wouldn't 
look like we'd bought anything expensive and called Tricia's mom to come get 
us. Then we went back to my house to read the books.

---

Tricia started on the sex book, and I started reading the call girl diary. 
She kept wanting me to look at perverted stuff in the book, but I ignored 
her because call girl thing was so cool. Fuck going to college. This was 
what I wanted to do when I grew up--have sex with a bunch of rich guys and 
buy all the stuff at BCBG and Arden B and Betsy Johnson I wanted. Why the 
hell would I want to work?

Then I got to something I hadn't really thought about. A lot of guys 
apparently wanted to have sex with two call girls at once, and the author 
talked about all sorts of lesbo stuff like it was completely normal. Whoa.

I showed it to Tricia, and her eyes got really big.

"Are we going to have to do that?"

"I don't know."

She gulped. "What if someone wants us to?"

"I guess we don't have to do it. Except real call girls do, though they 
charge more money for it."

"I guess they would. How much more?"

"I don't know."

"How much would it take to make you want to do it?"

I lay on my back and stared up at the ceiling. I didn't know what to tell 
her, and I looked back at the book. That's when I saw something that 
answered the question that had been bugging me, whether you really had to be 
a lesbo to be a call girl.

"We might not have to do it for real. We could fake it."

"Fake it?" she asked.

"Here. Read this."

I showed the passage I'd found, where the girl talked about what she did 
when someone wanted her and her friend together.

"I don't get it," Tricia said.

"It's like, you wouldn't really go down on the other girl, you'd just 
pretend, and she'd pretend you were getting her off."

"Wouldn't the guy be able to see? That you weren't really doing it?"

That did seem to be a problem. I skimmed through the book some more without 
getting any answers.

"I bet we could charge a lot more for it," Tricia said.

"Yeah. How much, do you think?"

"Well, we'd charge five hundred for each of us, right, just for having 
normal sex. That would be a thousand just to show up and take our clothes 
off. Plus maybe another two-fifty each for the lesbo stuff. So fifteen 
hundred."

"Is that enough to make you want to do it? Just two-fifty?"

"How much would you want?"

"I think we should treat it just like they wanted us to have sex with 
someone else," I said. "That would be another five hundred."

"A thousand each?"

I thought about that for a few moments. I'd never once thought about doing 
lesbo stuff before, but a thousand bucks was a wicked shitload of money. 
God, what I could buy with _that_.

"A thousand, yeah. I think I could do it for a thousand."

Tricia didn't say anything--she just sat there spacing out, so I went back 
to reading. Then she said, "Do you think we should practice?"

I looked up. She had the sex book open to the chapter on oral sex, and there 
was a big picture of some guy with his face in this woman's puss. You 
couldn't really see anything, but it was obvious what he was doing. And next 
to the picture was a drawing him actually doing it.

"Practice?"

"What if we take the money, then realize we can't do it? I don't want to 
have to back out after we get paid for it. That could get ugly."

I hadn't thought of that. I didn't precisely want to fuck Tricia, but she 
had a point.

"I figure," she said, "either we decide now that we won't do it, or we kind 
of need to be ready for it."

I gulped. "What do you want to do?"

She looked over at me nervously. "Have sex?"

"For real?"

"Sorta."

I flopped on my back again. "I need to think about this."

"It was just an idea."

I didn't know what else to say about it and neither did she, so we both went 
back to reading. I was beginning to think we could just forget the whole 
idea, until I got to the next chapter of the diary, and once again, the 
narrator gets hired to have sex with her friend, except this time she 
complains that her client really likes to watch them and therefore they 
couldn't fake it like they usually did. But they still did it.

_Fuck_. How badly did I want to be a call girl? I didn't want to become a 
lesbo, but a thousand bucks was a thousand bucks. And I knew from how Mr. 
Taylor and Mr. Dillard and even Mr. Wellington had acted that we had clients 
who would pay for something like that.

"All right," I said. "Fuck it. Let's do it."

Tricia looked over at me. "Are you sure?"

"It seems like it goes with the job, from what I'm reading in here. And 
you're right. I don't want the first time to be when we're being paid. I 
don't want to freak out in front of some guy who just paid me a thousand 
bucks. We should see if we can do this before it really matters."

"For real? Or just faking it?"

I shook my head. "I really don't understand the faking it part. I don't see 
how it's much different anyway. We should just do it."

She lay there looking lost for a moment. "So what do we do?"

"Hold on." I got up and went downstairs. Mom was out with some friend of 
hers for lunch and--so she had said--wouldn't be back for another hour, but 
I wanted to be sure we were safe if we were going to do this. I went around 
locking all the doors and double-checking the street outside.  Then I took a 
deep breath and went back up to my room. Tricia was right where I left her, 
still staring at the oral sex pictures.

"Okay. We're safe."

"What do we do?"

"I guess we just pretend we're doing it with some guy watching."

She got off the bed, and we started getting undressed. I'd seen Tricia naked 
before, like when she spent the night, but certainly not like this. I was 
nervous as fuck and starting to feel lightheaded, so I told myself we just 
had to get this out of the way. When we were both naked, I took a step 
toward her.

"Just . . . close your eyes and pretend I'm a guy."

"Okay."

When her eyes were closed, I moved in and made myself kiss her. At first we 
just smooched weakly, but then she opened her mouth, and we started 
frenching each other. I felt my nipples touch her boobs, and a shiver ran 
down my back.

We kissed each other for a few minutes, and after the initial shock wore 
off, I began to settle down a little. It wasn't that much different from 
kissing a guy, just gentler, I guess. I tried to remember what Mr. Taylor 
and Mr. Wellington had done to me. Both of them had sucked on my tits for a 
while, so I had Tricia lie on my bed. She kept her eyes closed, but she did 
it. I lay beside her and started kissing her boobs. At first, I felt totally 
fucking weird, but I made myself think about the money we could make doing 
this and got control of myself again. Sucking her nipples was pretty easy 
once I got used to it, and I tried to do what I remembered Mr. Taylor and 
Mr. Wellington doing. Tricia was lying totally still and just breathing 
hard.

"Do you feel too funny?" I asked.

She gulped. "I'm okay."

I went back to sucking and kissing her tits until I knew I had put off going 
any further as long as I could. I forced all my nervousness down and moved 
slowly down between her legs. Tricia started to shiver and grabbed onto the 
bedspread as I got face-to-face with her puss. I felt briefly sick to my 
stomach and had to close my eyes until I calmed down. But I couldn't make 
myself lick her yet, so I just started by touching her, like Mr. Wellington 
had done to me last night. I rubbed my thumb against her clit and opened her 
up a little. I'd never been this close to a pussy before, not even my own, 
and it was weird to actually see all the stuff I knew I had but had never 
really gotten a good look at.

Tricia was still lying there like she was paralyzed or something, so I said, 
"Is this doing anything for you?"

She gulped again and still didn't open her eyes. "It feels okay."

"Just okay? Am I doing it wrong?"

"I don't know."

I gathered up all my courage and stuck out my tongue. The first touch on her 
clit made me sick again, so I had to stop for a second, but I was beginning 
to get used to the idea of eating her. I started licking her gently, and 
after a minute or two of it, I no longer felt so nervous. I tried to do the 
things that had felt good when Mr. Wellington was doing me, and pretty soon 
Tricia wasn't acting so dead. She started moving and shivering a little and 
her breathing was really deep and noisy. I'd been licking her about five 
minutes when all of a sudden she let out a little whimper and arched her 
back. She stayed all tight for about five seconds and then relaxed. I 
stopped licking her and pulled back.

"Did you come?

She nodded. I still felt really weirded out by this whole idea, but that 
made me feel good on some stupid level.

I crawled up the bed and lay beside her. "It wasn't that hard."

She finally opened her eyes and sat up. She didn't say anything, she just 
rolled over and started sucking my tits. I was startled for a moment, then I 
decided to just lie still like she had done and pretend she was a guy.

But it didn't work. She didn't feel like a guy at all, and what she was 
doing didn't feel like anything any guy had ever done to me. She was going 
too slow and gentle, and her hair was all over my chest. It felt good, 
though.

When she started eating me, I just lay back and stretched myself open, and I 
found myself imagining that we were doing this while Mr. Taylor was watching 
us. That turned me on a lot more than I would ever have expected, and after 
only a few minutes, I felt myself getting close to coming.

I didn't even think about it--I reached down and put my hands on her head 
like I would have done if she were a guy. She jumped for a second but kept 
licking me, and after about another fifteen or twenty seconds, I ripped a 
really good one, not as good as Mr. Wellington had given me but better than 
anything I'd gotten from the guys I'd let go down on me before we started 
this call girl thing.

That was when something really fucking weird happened. Tricia didn't stop.

She kept licking me, and if I wasn't imagining it, she seemed to be getting 
into this. She was pushing her face right into my puss and licking me really 
deep and fast. I was about to ask what she was doing when I felt her 
sticking her finger into me, and after that point, I couldn't think about 
much of anything until she made me come again about a minute later.

After that, she stopped.

"Whoa," I gasped.

"Was that good?"

"Uh-huh."

"I was doing what the book said to do. For guys, I mean."

I nodded. Something told me not to get into this with her, because I might 
not like where it went. But it meant we could do this, if the dads wanted us 
to. Yes, sir, Mr. Taylor, I'd love to go down on Tricia, but that will be a 
thousand bucks first. And we won't fake a thing, I promise.

---

Tricia went home a while later, after Mom got back from lunch. She took the 
sex book and I hid the call girl diary inside my bed. I was downstairs 
watching TV about an hour later when Mom came into the den.

"Kaitlyn? Is this yours?"

I turned around to see what she meant. Oh, shit--she was holding my BCBG 
jacket, and she looked pissed. I hadn't meant to let her see it, but I must 
have left it out while Tricia and I were obsessing about lesbo stuff.

"Uh--"

"Is this that jacket you wanted me to buy you?"

"Um, no--I mean, yes. But I got it at T.J. Maxx. It's a reject. It was 
marked way down."

She looked it over for a second or two. "It looks fine to me."

"I know. I don't know why it was rejected. But that's where I got it."

"How much did it cost?"

"Ninety-five. I had baby-sitting money saved up."

She grumbled. "Honey, you know I don't like you to make purchases like that 
without discussing them with me first."

"I'm sorry. But I was afraid someone else would buy it."

She kept examining the jacket for another few seconds, picking over it as I 
prayed she bought this story.

"All right. It's a lovely jacket, and I'm glad you found it for something 
approaching a reasonable price. But please don't do something like that 
again."

"I'm sorry."

She dropped the jacket on the couch and left. I let out a gasp of relief.

_Shit_. That had been too close. From now on, I had to keep all my call-girl 
stuff hidden in the way back of my closet. The last thing I need was Mom 
screwing this up just when we were getting somewhere with it.

---

Lauren called me after dinner. Apparently she and Tricia had talked before 
Tricia went off to sit for the Tolberts. She told me to log on and IM her 
because she didn't want anyone overhearing her. So I hung up and dialed into 
AOL. Her IM popped up the instant I was online.

<tricia told me what you guys did today>

I launched into a big explanation about what I'd read and what we had 
thought about, but she interrupted me.

<i was thinking. that's the kind of stuff i could do, for now. until we 
decide what do with my virginity.>

I had been totally convinced she was going to freak over what Tricia and I 
had done, so I wasn't ready for this. <What do you mean?> I IM'd back.

<i'll give blow jobs, and i'll do lesbo stuff. that would be worth $500, 
don't you think?>

<You *want* to do it?>

<i can't just give bjs, can i?>

<Not for $500, I guess ... but if you're going to do the lesbo stuff, Tricia 
and I agreed on a thousand>

<except i wouldn't be having sex with them. just you guys. so i could charge 
just five hundred.>

<Huh ... okay ... $500 for lesbo stuff, and $300 for blow jobs>

<yeah>

Wow. Fuck me with a stick. Who'd have thought I had two closet lesbians for 
friends? But if Lauren was on board with this idea too, we were set.

<So what do you think about selling your cherry?>

<i was thinking about that too. i don't think we should just sell it, like 
you guys have been doing.>

<Then what do we do?>

And that was when I about shit myself, because she said:

<i think we should have an auction>

Okay--let me interrupt here so you understand something. I'd known Lauren 
since grade school, and I'd lost count of the times I'd heard people call 
her "mousy." It's not just because she was short and she had brown hair and 
brown eyes and all that, it's because she was so quiet and shy. I mean, 
yeah, she'd gone down on Kevin Johanssen and Jason Reid, but I knew it was 
just because she didn't want them to think she was a geek. I wasn't the 
least bit surprised when she told me the other night that she hadn't been 
able to get either one them off. I frankly never really thought she'd go 
along with our call girl idea, and I'd suspected that she was only 
pretending to because we were her friends. So when she said "auction," I 
just sat there with my jaw down until she IM'd me again.

<kaitlyn?>

<Are you shitting me? You want to auction off your cherry? Like on eBay or 
something?>

<don't you think that would make us more money?>

_God_. I guess it really is the quiet ones. I thought about this idea for a 
moment.

<If we could pull it off ... fuck ... we'd make a mint, probably.>

<i want to do it. once we've got enough guys who know about us to make it 
work. that's what I want to do>

<How many guys?>

<you said you had a list of about ten, right? that would be enough.>

Ten of the Dads we sat for, who included some pretty fucking rich men, 
competing with each other to see who got to fuck Lauren for her first time. 
Jesus Fucking Christ. There was no telling how much money we might make from 
something like that. My head started to spin just thinking about it.

<Okay ... when we've got enough guys on our list, that's what we're going to 
do.>

<heh. kewl  =p>

---

[Ch.4 coming when it gets written]


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