HUDSON'S CHOICE

3.

Sitting in front of her laptop, reviewing second-hand car sales sites, looking for nothing in particular, Lauryn began to detect the first signs of boredom. Jane had been gone for almost a week and she had the apartment to herself, she could do whatever she liked. If only she had something to do.

What a great way to spend a Saturday night. Once again. It’s easy for Anita to talk about dating and having dates with the men she meets online or at her sports clubs. She’s confident, dazzling, and born to be sociable.

After another glass of wine, Lauryn returned to her computer and closed the window on which she had been looking for cars she knew were too expensive for her. This is a total waste of time, she thought as her screen flashed to the Google home page. After staring at the screen for what seemed like an eternity, she took another sip of her wine and started tapping in the search bar. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Thank you, Anita. Thanks for nothing.

When she typed online dating sites Google began to sort through all of its data to display tons of links to sites that matched what she asked for.

She continues to sip her wine as she reflected on the next step and clicked on one of the links. In a few minutes, the whole idea seemed too daunting as she looked at the steps for registration.

Oh, wow. I have to talk about myself? I need to find a catchphrase, a cleverly funny, but honest, profile description AND stuff about my ideal partner? Really?

Taking a look at the offers in the men’s section made her reflect on the utility of all that energy expenditure, anyway. There seemed to be pages and pages of guys she’d never turn to look at in the street.

Where are all the cute guys with a square jaw, wide smile, and eyes that call for s*x that you see everywhere on the ads for these sites? I don’t see any on pages 1-5.

Not one of the profiles made her want to click further, and she returned to her Google page with the results of her search. Tempted for a moment to close the window and abandon her search, one of Google’s paid advertisements on the right of the screen caught her eye and drew her across the page like a magnet. Leaving the page was no longer an option. She was hooked.

She knew the reason. Not that she had devoted a lot of thought to it in recent years, with all that was going on in her life, but it was there. Lurking in the calm waters of her imagination, ready to resurface at the first opportunity. She remembered in a perennial way how her imagination had also begun to take flight when she was a teenager, rummaging among the boxes of books in her aunt’s cellar.

She remembered the dog-eared and worn book cover of Xaviera Hollander’s Happy Hooker as if she had seen it yesterday. Lauryn remembered the cramps in her legs when she tried to get up after staying on the floor for hours, reading the taboo book behind a pile of boxes away from prying eyes. Her imagination had worked at full speed, with a deluge of explicit s*x scenes and the simple idea of doing it with several men and getting paid for it.

Everything she had learned from her reading went directly against what she had always been taught about love, s*x, and relationships. Strangely, the topic of prostitutes had never entered the discussion when her mother had the talk about gender and sexuality or at the time of the lectures on sexuality at her school. It was something that went beyond her understanding and she had done some research at the public library. Then her research led her to the DVD store where her obsession with the subject was only further ignited by the raw images that complemented the many books she had devoured in record time.

One of Lauryn’s earliest memories was the day she watched Cynthia Payne’s Personal Services comedy. The film had left a lingering impression on the young girl that she was and remained one of her favourite movies. It had taken 20 years for something to make an even more intimate impression on her with the innovative Diary of a Call-Girl. After recording each episode of each season, she had watched them again and again, often imagining herself in the role played by Billie Piper. She had even given herself a secret escort name, which she used during her naughty fantasies.

Later, her fascination with everything related to the escort industry only grew in importance. Her k****e was filled with news, novels, biographies, and anthologies related to the s*x industry. She devoured these kinds of books at remarkable speed, developing a vast field of knowledge. She knew everything from clients to girls to a wide variety of services and fetishes on offer.

For Lauryn, it was a form of escape, not so different from reading a detective or romantic novel set in an exotic location. To know that a vacation in such a place was highly unlikely didn’t diminish the entertainment and escape afforded by the books. Lauryn knew she didn’t have the looks, body, s****l inclination, or self-confidence necessary to even just pretend to be an escort. Her only attempt to surprise her husband, for his birthday, had been to stage a role-play, embodying a call girl. The attempt had resulted in her husband’s bursts of laughter and tears, and a terrible feeling of embarrassment. But this embarrassing failure had not diminished her appetite for knowledge of the field and hardly perturbed the frequency of her intense fantasies.

Sometimes she hardly recognized the woman in these dreams. She was very much like Lauryn, but she was sexually experienced, very sociable, and had self-confidence and flawless talent, and was simply sublime. Almost the polar opposite of the true Lauryn on all fronts, even if she knew she was attractive, in her way. Tony had never made much effort to make her feel beautiful or desirable. As a result, she was never forced to arrange her hair or makeup. After all, what good was it? He probably wouldn’t have noticed the difference.

Well, it doesn’t cost anything to go take a look. But I shouldn’t...

Curiosity was stronger than caution, and with a click of the mouse, she entered a whole new world on the Sugar Daddy site. Within a few minutes, she had gone through pages of decent-looking men of neat appearance and dressed in style. All had one thing in common—they were financially comfortable enough to be able to afford to satisfy their desire to spend time with young sexy women.

Opening some of the profiles, she was surprised to learn that having travelled a lot, being smart, and having the ability to converse were among the most cited requirements by men for their Sugar Babes.

I imagine that being beautiful with long legs and a lovely pair of breasts is required for the role of Sugar Babe and doesn’t need to be reminded, she thought opening a new profile.

Browsing a long list of posts by men seeking companionship and intimacy revived her interest in an entire industry whose foundations were right before her eyes. Men and women exchanging a need for a craving. It’s been a while since she turned away from this culture and way of life. Being a busy single mother can smother your damn dreams.

As she navigated the pages of her search engine, the incredible number of cheap and sticky escort services amazed Lauryn. What she saw there was terrible in contrast with the image she had formed over the years.

Maybe it’s a sign, and I should keep my fantasies for what they are: make-believe. Ah, hell, it’s fun to look at. It’s not like I’m hurting anyone or as if I had something better to do.

Scrolling through the pages, a description stands out from the pack. The words exclusive, higher social class, sophisticated and prestigious prompted her to click on the link, redirecting her to a site with a simple design, sleek and discreet. Exactly what she had in mind.

Oddly, it was the first site of its kind that she saw where prices were not displayed. I imagine that if you need to ask ‘how much’, you can’t afford it. Selecting the Gallery tab in the menu, the page filled up quickly with pictures of gorgeous and beautifully dressed women. Another notable difference with the other sites she had been to—the others showed images of women in garter belts, wearing imitations of Victoria’s Secret and high heels.

Pearl of the Sea.

What a great name. And some superb pearls to offer, indeed. Too bad I’m not a pearl.

Some of the names caught her eye. Alicia, Jessica, Jasmine, Tiffany, among others. Maybe I should create an escort name, just to have fun. It could be fun, right? Oh, wait...

She remembered the name she had given herself years ago in her fantasies.

The more she navigated through the site, the more she wished to have the body and look of these girls. A little assurance wouldn’t do any harm, either. I’m not a sexy mom... What the hell was I thinking?