life, love

Escort Girl, Greg, Meeting in Cheretto


I love Cheretto, it is quietly private, insanely upscale, and extremely elitist. I love its snobby atmosphere, dim lighting, and hidden but obvious discrimination by status, income, and power. Open for members only. The application for the membership gets politely denied with a seemingly valid and politically correct reason after 3 to 5 years of being on the waiting list. The reminiscent of a library décor, comfy leather seating, and highly maintained and beautifully fit females, quietly waiting for their partners to finish lunch-and-laptop break. It is very safe and relaxing here in the atmosphere of dominance, exclusivity, and selective privilege. Mike got me the membership long ago. A weed among purebreds, I always feel happy to pause my crazy squirrel-cage-run and immerse in a different reality, in the world of veneer smiles and private jets.
I was enjoying my loneliness and sparkling lemon water, when I heard Heather’s laughter. I looked up, I saw her and Greg at the bar. My first thought was “Cheretto is getting cheap, how could they possibly allow someone in scrubs here?” But he was with my Heather, who had the membership through one of her sugar daddies. They were talking, she was laughing, white tight shirt on her perfect boob-job. She was stunning as usual.
Surprisingly, I felt nothing. His scrubs just bothered me, that place was way too refined for his stupid hospital uniform. Heather finally turned around, our eyes met. I watched her hurriedly leaning in close to him; I could imagine what she was whispering in his ear, since he turned around as well and waved at me. I waved back and shifted my gaze to the lemon water. I knew she would come to my table. I felt her presume as she sat down and gave me a hug.
          Hi Vixen
          Hi, – I kept staring at the bubbly water in my glass
          You gotta understand, it is just a job
I reluctantly glanced up at her face. She looked worried and sincerely concerned.  
          He is a greedy shit-heard, your words, Heather
          Correct,  – she had to lower her voice since Greg kept staring at us from the bar area, – but he offered a great allowance this weekend
          Heather, – The lemon water was ice-cold and caused a sharp pain in the both temples, – he is just a surgeon, you are way too expensive for this. When did you break up with your Tokyo guy?
          I did not break up with him, Greg is just a side-job. And yes, he is cheap and cannot afford me, he just wanted to spend one weekend, the pay is good, and I agreed. It’s only business
          I see
          Are you mad? Are we still friends? You are my best friend, Vixen
          Do me a favor
          Do not take him here any more, this is the only place where I feel safe and happy, don’t ruin it
          I won’t I promise. He will pay, and we will leave
          Are we still friends?
          You gotta go, he is waiting, I know Greg, he won’t pay for the time you are here with me
          Are we still friends? – her bitchy upscale gloss was gone, she looked helplessly crappy, I felt disgusted
They left quietly and quickly. That night I got his text. “I am in bed with a call girl, thinking about f*cking you from behind” . I deleted the message and turned the TV on.

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