“Come here, let me help, escorts from my part of town always know best” Yanka said as she held out both arms to gesture Dalia forward. The other woman quit her struggling attempts at unzipping the short, yellow cocktail dress she had picked from a nearby rack and made her way over to Yanka, turning and brushing her hair over her shoulder. Strong fingers wrapped around the hidden zipper and carefully slid it down the track, revealing an expanse of milky skin that Yanka found herself incredibly distracted by. Dalia wasn’t wearing a bra; something Yanka noticed before anything else.
“Why don’t you work for me?” Yanka asked, leaning around a bit to rest her chin on Dalia’s shoulder. Her sharp, glittering blue eyes gazed at the other woman in the mirror, calculating and clearly waiting for a specific answer. She wasn’t surprised by the confusion that passed Dalia’s features, however. It hadn’t been a very direct question.
“I do work for you,” Dalia replied slowly, her arms coming up to hug the top of the dress around her body when the shoulders began to slide down said arms. They were in the middle of a London department store more expensive than Yanka assumed Dalia had ever even tried to shop at; the escort couldn’t deny that she would find it both amusing and arousing if Dalia was suddenly half nude in front of the woman just on the other side of the dressing room area.
“I mean work for me,” Yanka replied, letting her hands settle on Dalia’s waist. Her chin remained on her shoulder as she continued. “You could make a whole lot of money doing what I’m doing. I’ll get you the work…you go do it. Seventy percent for you, thirty for me. I wouldn’t offer that to my own flesh and blood.”
Yanka knew she was pushing it with that offer. Dalia was staring at her like she had grown two heads. Propositioning her to get paid for intimacy was a stretch, and while Yanka wasn’t fond of the idea of random men with their hands all over Dalia, she knew that it would be a lot easier to control the situation if the assistant of hers would cooperate.
“You can’t be serious,” Dalia said in disbelief. Yanka smirked at her.
“Dead serious. You’re a knockout. You have no idea how much money you could make. A hell of a lot more than what I’m paying you right now.” Yanka’s hands moved from Dalia’s waist, down towards her thighs. “I’m not some fifty-cent call girl. My clients start at six hundred. Most of them go up to five thousand. You could be making ten grand in a week, easy.”
That seemed to do it. Dalia’s eyes glazed with desire, and Yanka knew the promise of money would do it for anyone. “This dress is gorgeous on you,” Yanka continued, her voice twisting into her signature innocence. “Yellow really is your color. You could wear it on your first job and make at least a grand more than you would without it.”
“You’re crazy,” Dalia breathed out, starting to shift a bit as she held the dress tighter against her.
“Say yes, and I promise I’ll take care of you.”
The look Yanka received in the mirror was all the answer she needed, let the escorts London life begin...