Author's note: I am in love with love stories. I wanted to write one of my own and also include my love of... Show full author's note »
Danielle's New JobIt had been almost two months since Danielle had visited her favorite little coffee shop on the corner down the street. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and the whispers of people discussing their jobs, their drama, and the chaos that filled their lives made Danielle feel somewhat alive. The walls were a deep burgundy color, and the floors were dark hard wood. Everything in the coffee joint was warming and comforting, but nothing could have taken away her feeling of loneliness and heartache, and
This man looked cruel; with piercing blue eyes and jet black hair. He had approached her to offer her a job. Now and any other given occasion she would have immediately turned down the offer, being a Call Girl wasn’t exactly the job title that she had in mind, but given her circumstances she took him up on the job. Russ Jenkins, that’s what the man had called himself. Danielle followed him to a place called Russ’s Place. Inside the doorway, just before the living room stood quite a few girls. There were tall blondes, short red heads, and heavy set brunettes. The girls were of all shapes, sizes and colors. Russ had labeled them “Russ’s Girls”. Any other person would have called these girls prostitutes, but the correct term for a high class prostitute of their level is a Call Girl, or a Female Escort. The idea of working in this line of work made Danielle uncomfortable, but at this stage in her life, the feeling uncomfortable was the last thing on her mind. She was determined to keep herself living, and if that meant working as a high class hoe, she was going to do it.
Danielle started making business quick; it wasn’t too hard for her. She was five foot six, one hundred and twenty-six pounds, light green eyes, and dark brown, wavy hair. No man hesitated to choose her for a one night stand and Danielle worked six days a week and had Sundays off. She went to the coffee shop on the corner where she seemed to spend most of her free time, nowadays. There she would order her Irish Crème Latte and sit by the window, watch the people walking the streets, just waiting to see her husband walk by, hoping to make eye contact and him to come rushing into her arms. But every week she had the same ending, going home to her apartment, empty handed and alone. Every time she sat by that window, her chest felt heavy and her breathing slowed down, warm tears filled her eyes and she would begin to sniffle at the runny nose she was developing.