Chapter 2: Dry Hump, Boob Grabber and A Nervous Tick Maybe?
Chapter 1
I can only imagine what my mother would if she knew I was in the back of a taxi listening to pounding eighties music, while trying to prepare myself with the mental strength it's going to take to teach a college student how to not fill my mouth with a waterfall of saliva as he kisses me.
Did I mention it would be happening whilst his mother is having a wedding cake consultation with her bride to be a daughter? Well, now you know.
This is how I ended up here...
I got wrongfully (but gladly) evicted from my apartment
Publicly quit my job after my handsy boss grabbed my an ass for the hundredth time ( I may have publicly shamed my now ex-boss while I was at it) (and got mini-standing ovation from the staff and customers)
And lastly but most definitely not least...
I got slightly" drunk and let a painfully gorgeous man pay me $1000 in return for a kiss ( I also tried to dry hump him, which I would have been successful at if the bartender hadn't of closed the bar)
I lightly tap on the taxi drivers shoulder, raising my voice as I ask "Can you turn the music down a bit?" Whilst making a hand motion that shows me turning the volume knob of a radio. He looks over his shoulder, sees my hand motion and reaches over the console.
I sit back against the seat and pull my ledger out of my worn and torn messenger bag, opening it to the most recent page. My eyes run over the page, landing on the name of the client I'm on my way to meet. My ledger keeps a record of my client's names, dates they had their first lesson, how many lessons they've had with me thus far, etc. Right now I have thirteen clients, both male, female and non-gender specific clients in ages ranging from twenty to thirty.
It used to be eighteen to thirty, but after a certain incident involving a cocky teenager and an aggressive boob grab, I upped my minimum age limit by two years. Apparently being two years older can do a lot for the male species.
Unfortunately for me upping the age limit meant I had to let go of the clients who were now under the age limit, resulting in me letting Asia, my best friend, find me some new potential clients. I love Asia to death...but she doesn't have the best track record when it comes to helping me find clients. Saying I was sceptical about her ability to find a decent one this time around would be the understate the of the century, but alas I said yes and six days later I had a new client who conveniently enough for me was willing to pay me to double the price for each lesson as long as it could be done at his house every Tuesday and Friday.
With the rest of my clients, I have them come to a little studio I rent specifically for my lessons with clients. It's not only because of safety reasons that I don't usually go to their house or apartment, but it just happens to be close to the building Asia and I go to on the days We intern at SparkCo Media. At first, I was uncomfortable about the idea of going to a clients house, which I still am, but Asia assured me this client is doing it purely for the lessons.
"Get the fuck out of my way asshole" The taxi driver yells out the window. Looking outside the window I see a man on a bike flip off the taxi driver and pedal off. The car pulls up against the sidewalk in front of a row of townhouses. Getting out of the car, I push the door shut and pull out my ledger, double checking the address.
I know for a fact that these townhouses are worth more than a few million dollars to buy. How Asia found a client that lives on the upper east side is beyond me.
I can only pray he isn't Boob Grabber 2.0.
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As I'm about to press the doorbell I see movement behind the curtain beside the door. I lean over to peek inside the window, suddenly the door opens startling me onto my butt. My butt cheeks throb from the impact making me clench.
"Are you okay?" I hear a boy's voice say as he crouches down and attempts to help me up. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I should have waited till you pressed the doorbell."
"I'm fine, I'm fine. Really there's no need to worry. I shouldn't have been distracted." I reply dusting off my butt. "You must be Elijah Maxwell."
His pale cheeks flush pink and his eyes stare at the cement steps we stand on. "Yes. You're Florence? The one giving me the..uhhh...lessons?" He murmurs.
"Yep," I say, my lips smacking together on the P.
"Umm..should we start the lesson?" He asks looking at anything but me.
"Sure. We should probably go inside to do that." I say. "Unless you're into people watching you kiss someone?"
I step into the townhouse and Elijah closes the door behind me. The foyer oozes money, from the grand staircase in the middle of the room to the bronze door handles. I've always imagined what it would feel like to be in a place so stunning and expensive but I don't think anything could have prepared me for this.
I wouldn't be surprised if all the furniture and art in this room are all antique. The amount of money all of this must have cost, not even including the house, could probably pay five years worth of my rent.
"...or maybe the living room is better. Which one would you prefer?" My eyes land back on Elijah as he finishes speaking. He rubs the edge of his sleeve between his thumb and pointer finger.
A nervous tick maybe?
"Wherever is fine, it doesn't matter which room we have the lesson in, it'll be uncomfortable for you no matter what," I state. "It always is for the first two or so lessons."
I follow him into the living room and he leads me to a large muted grey couch. "So before we start the lesson I'm going to need you to sign a few things." I set the papers on the glass table in front of me and slide them towards him. "If you'd like to read through them thoroughly we can book another lesson."
"No, no. It's fine, I'll just grab a pen." He reappears less than a minute later holding a pen. His eyes run over the paperwork, ticking boxes and finally signing the dotted line.
"Alright, let's get started."
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