A suicidal girl is offered the choice of having her memories wiped and becoming a sex worker. She agrees. Part 2/5
Chapter 2: Eleonora’s
The door slammed, and the van moved away. Jessie looked around.
She stood in a narrow street lit by lanterns. The buildings were low and old here, only three or four stories high, their ground floors occupied by small shops, cafes, and restaurants, some of them still open. The place seemed calm and almost respectable. A group of four men sat outside a bistro, smoking and laughing loudly. A couple walked past, their arms linked, their laughter light in the warm night air. Jessie felt a strange sense of dislocation. This could have been a vacation. She could have been a tourist, exploring a new city on a warm summer night. But she wasn’t.
She was standing at the door of the establishment with the simple sign that read “Eleonora’s”. Posters on either side of the door depicted graceful young women in various elegant, yet very suggestive poses. The words “Live the Dream” and “Where Fantasies Become Reality” were printed in elegant script beneath the images. A dream. A fantasy. Her own, or—? She reached for the handle, but the door opened before she could touch it.
A woman stood in the doorway. She was in her forties, maybe, with dark hair pulled back in a severe bun, and a face that was both beautiful and cold, like a marble statue. She was wearing a simple black dress that did little to hide a figure that was still trim and firm. She looked Jessie up and down, her gaze clinical and assessing.
“I’m Eleonora,” she said simply. “Call me Ellie. And you must be Jessie, a wiped girl. Welcome to your new home.”
Jessie stepped inside. The door closed behind her, shutting out the sounds of the street. The interior was warm and dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume, old wood, and something else, something musky and primal. The lobby was decorated in deep reds and golds, with plush velvet sofas and dark wood paneling. It was elegant, in a heavy, theatrical way. A registration desk on one side, a podium against the wall across from it.
“When our clients come here to pick a girl in person, not ordering one on the site, all available girls come down here and line up for display,” she explained matter-of-factly. “You’ll be doing it too.”
“Clients?” echoed Jessica.
“Ah, they hadn’t told you. We are the escort salon. The elite escort one, I would say. You’ve got lucky, girl. No whoring you out on cheap back alleys here. All clients are high-profile, wealthy, and always screened. Low risk. Some become regulars for some girls, some like diversity. You’ll learn to provide a wide range of premium experiences.” She glanced at Jessica and smirked. “A quite wide range of them. You will be agreeing to everything that does not leave permanent scars on your body.”
Her explanation, delivered in a dispassionate business tone, was more real and more raw than the most explicit porn Jessie had ever seen.
Ellie’s eyes scanned her from head to toe, her lips pursed thoughtfully. “You need a proper name and a story. Something believable but enticing. Your new identity. Your image. A cover for the blank slate.”
She circled Jessie, her steps soft on the thick carpet. “Young, and fresh, and unspoiled. You have that look of curious innocence that many of our clients value the most. We’ll play along those lines. Take off your robe.” Jessie obeyed. Ellie circled her again, looking and touching her— in the intimate places, too. “Perfect. Not a virgin, but not used too much either. Your name… let it remain as is, Jessie. No last name. Your story…” She rubbed her chin. “Not too sophisticated, with room for your improvisation… A runaway, maybe. From abusive parents. A little bit broken, but with a hidden fire. Seeking a father figure, a protector. But also ready to… show gratitude. Stick to this story, improvise the details on the fly when the clients ask. Okay.” She nodded. “Drop this rag into the bin by the door, and follow me.”
Jessie left the cheap kimono in the bin, as if she had stepped out of her skin. Naked as a newborn, her connections with the previous life severed. She was just a body, moving through the dimly lit corridors of the house. A body for sale.
The creaking wooden stairs leading upstairs, the pleasant feeling of the worn wood under her bare soles. The second floor was much more lively, with the bright light, music, the smell of cigarettes, alcohol, and fast food. There were about a dozen girls in the hall – as young as Jessie, and older, but not by much, still in their twenties. Some of them were naked, or in mesh lingerie that only pushed up and emphasized but hid nothing, or in simple light robes. Some were reading or watching a tablet, some were smoking and chatting. Two girls in just bras and thongs were lazily playing a fighting game on the console on a big TV. Everyone had an expression of a mix of boredom, indifference, and some underlying, simmering tension.
Jessie was the fresh meat, and she could feel the dozen pairs of eyes on her, their gazes a mixture of appraisal, envy, and indifference.
“She’s the new one, a wiped one,” one of the girls, a tall, statuesque blonde with breast implants and a haughty look in her eyes, drawled from where she was leaning against the wall, a cigarette dangling from her fingers. “Another pretty little thing for the grinder.”
The hallway buzzed with low, knowing laughter.
“Let her be, Lana,” Ellie said sternly. “She needs to settle in. She’ll be working with you soon.”
Lana rolled her eyes but didn’t press the matter. She took a long drag from her cigarette, her gaze lingering on Jessie’s body.
Jessie felt strangely at ease in this company. They might have teased her, but without any hostility. And their half-bored, half-relaxed, half-excited mood matched hers perfectly. She looked back at them, a small smile playing on her lips. “Hello! I’m Jessie,” she said. “Just Jessie. No second name.”
“Nobody has second names here,” a woman about thirty years old, maybe the oldest of them except Ellie, said from a couch, without looking at her, her attention fixated on a smartphone game. She was wearing only a transparent lace robe. “Except for Ellie, maybe. She used to be a top-tier girl in her day. Now she manages us. She owns this business.”
“Used to be? She was a…” Jessie started.
The woman finally looked up, her eyes a weary shade of gray. “What, you think she got this business for her looks?” She let out a short, harsh laugh. “She worked for it. The hard way. Now she manages her own stable.” She went back to her game, swiping furiously at the screen. “Don’t mind me. I’m Irina. Just a Russian whore trafficked here in my teens— and it’s just my legend, mind it. And you are now Jessie, the broken little runaway.”
The air in the room was thick with unspoken stories, each a variation of the same theme. Each of them had their own bridge, their own rooftop. But they had found their way here. This was their life now, their reality. And Jessie realized she was becoming a part of it. She felt no shame, only a sense of belonging to this strange, dysfunctional sisterhood.
Ellie led her further, to the hallway.
“You’ll get familiar with everyone, with time,” she said. “The girls come and go, there are more of them. Some are with their clients now, some are taking a day off, such things. We are on a loose schedule here, no fixed hours, nobody’s forced. The girls are here simply because they need money, and— well, some really love this work. But they decide themselves when their next shift will be, and how much time they will spend here waiting for their next client.” She smirked. “Except for you, of course. You have no other home, and no personal bank account. You are a property of the salon, so you’ll spend your whole time between the clients and this place.”
She led Jessie. “Here is the restroom with showers, here is the kitchen. You may take anything you want from the fridge. Here are the dorm rooms, take any free bed when you want to sleep.”
Jessie looked inside, then counted the doors. “So— few? There are so many girls, and you said there are more of them…”
“We aren’t a brothel, we do not serve here. Takeout only. Those beds are just for naps. Do you know what the escort job is?”
“Not really.”
“You go out with the clients that pick you, and spend the time with them, and keep them company in everything they’d pay for. And not here. Usually they bring you to hotels and motels, sometimes they rent a place specially for it. Some have apartments for that purpose, or even bring you to their private homes. The main dish is, of course, sex, all kinds and kinks they would like – just no permanent body damage, as I said – but the aperitifs are also important. They want not a simple fuckmeat; they want the feeling of a girlfriend — or a daughter, or anyone they like – they want your attention, and your emotions, and the roleplaying for them. That’s why they hire escorts, not regular hookers. We’re actresses. We get money for selling our bodies, but we earn real tips for selling the illusion.”
She led Jessie into the room that had the porn shooting setup, with the cameras and lights surrounding the bed in the center, and a wide set of toys.
“We do promotional porn all the time,” Ellie explained, turning on the lights and the camera. “The scenes are uploaded on the premium sections of our site, with the teasers on all free porn sites, so a client may want some extra thrill by fucking a girl from the video he likes. And, well, this is for the new girls like you. We’ll make your photos and a couple of videos now, for your profile on our site, to showcase your talents.”
Jessie’s heart hammered in her chest, but not from fear. A strange, eager warmth spread through her lower belly. “My… talents?” she asked, her voice a little breathless.
Ellie’s lips curved into a predatory smile. “The ones they’ve amped up for you. The orgasms. The sensitivity. The insatiable little thing they’ve turned you into.” She ran a finger down Jessie’s arm, raising goosebumps on her skin. “You must show what you can do. Not all of it. Just give them a teaser. Make them want you. Make them need you.” She gestured to the bed. “We can start your practice right now. Get comfortable. Let’s start with the simpler shots.”
And Jessica obediently posed for the camera, from the headshots, through the medium shots, to the full body shots, sitting, lying, on her knees, in the corners of the bed. She felt no embarrassment, no shame, her thoughts were calm and cold. Instead, there was an increasing arousal. She liked her own body; she loved the way it was looked at. She was a piece of art in the gallery, and this thought gave her a new, dizzy feeling.
“Okay, that’s fine,” Ellie said from behind the camera. “Now a little more action. I’ll just film, you will do it yourself. Show me how you please yourself.”
Jessie settled into the large bed, the cool sheets a stark contrast to the heat building inside her. She looked directly into the camera lens, her gaze steady, challenging. Then she let her eyes drift shut, a soft sigh escaping her lips as her hands began to explore her own body. Her fingers danced over her skin, tracing the curve of her hips, the dip of her waist, the swell of her breasts. She pinched her nipples, the sharp pleasure sending a jolt straight to her core.
She spread her legs, her knees falling open, an invitation to the unseen watcher. Her fingers found her slick folds, and she began to move, a slow, deliberate probing of the area. She shuddered and gasped with the first jolt of pleasure. And, in no time, she was shaking and shuddering, crying out with the raw, unfiltered release. The camera kept rolling. Ellie’s voice was a distant, reassuring murmur. “Good. Very good. That’s what the clients want to see.”
The raw need for release was already a familiar, comforting presence. The shame and the hesitation were gone, wiped away with her past. She was an open book now, her body a language she was just beginning to understand. And this was a story she wanted to tell.
“Now do it with the vibrator.” Ellie handed her the large two-headed device, for both the vagina and anus at the same time.
Jessie took it, bit her lip, stared at the camera, checked the rods – they were already lubricated – and said in a thin voice: “Oh God. I don’t know if it would fit… I never…” She did not play; those were her sincere words. Ellie just gave her the thumbs up. So Jessie took a deep breath and lay on her back, exposing her holes to the camera. “Oh God…” She pressed the rods to both of her entry holes. She did not really remember if she had any anal experience, if she had any experience but the tongues and fingers of Chloe and Julia!
She turned the vibrator on, and it buzzed, sending intense tickles over her crotch. Then she took another breath and pushed it in. It slid inside easily. Too easily. Her body was a ready instrument, tuned for this very purpose. The dual sensation of being filled in both places at once was overwhelming, a shock of irresistible pleasure that arched her back off the bed. A strangled cry ripped from her throat, her fingers digging into the sheets. Deeper! Deeper! She gasped when the rod reached her A-spot. The world narrowed to the buzzing, pulsing presence inside her, the slick walls of her cunt clenching around one rod, the tight ring of her ass fluttering around the other.
“That’s it, Jessie. Ride it,” Ellie’s voice was a low purr from behind the camera. “Show them what a good little slut you are.”
Jessie’s hips bucked of their own accord, meeting the thrusts of the toy as she fucked herself with a desperate, hungry rhythm. She moaned loudly, not caring if anyone would hear her. Her other hand flew to her clit, rubbing in tight, frantic circles. Her mind was a white-hot haze of sensation, a storm of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. She could feel the tension coiling in her belly, a tight knot of need threatening to snap.
“Oh, God! Oh, God! I’m gonna… I’m gonna… Aaaaahhh!” The orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave. She arched on the bed, standing on her head and feet only, then fell back and convulsed in the second orgasm, a deeper and longer one. A few waves of lesser contractions followed. She lay there for a while, panting, and the toy still buried deep in her trembling body. She barely managed to turn it off, then pulled it out with a wet, soft pop.
When she finally opened her eyes, her chest was heaving, her skin slick with a sheen of sweat. She looked into the camera, her vision blurred, and a slow, lazy smile spread across her face.
“I want more,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with desire.
Ellie smiled, too. “You’re going to get more. A lot more. You are a real star! How much sexual experience did you have before?”
“I— I don’t remember.”
And suddenly, she felt that she was doing what she was born for. This is who she was now. A runaway girl with no past. Jessie the escort. Jessie the whore.
She stood up, stretched, and suddenly yawned. It was a long, really long day, and her nap in the plane felt a long past. Ellie smiled warmly, like a caring mother. Jessie felt her more and more this way.
“You are tired,” she said. “Of course. Hold on for a little while, we’ll pick you clothes and equipment, and you will rest.”
She opened a wardrobe in the corner, rummaged in it, and pulled out a simple sundress.
“Try it. It should be your size.”
The dress was light, short, almost transparent, with thin straps that left her shoulders bare. A light summer garment for a holiday trip, not for a high-end escort. Jessie liked it.
“It’s your everyday uniform. It matches your personality of a fresh teenager. We’ll leave you barefoot, it completes the image. Now for the equipment…”
She handed her a neck purse with a smartphone. Jessie turned it over in her hands with interest. A small one, a cheap kids’ model, with a big alarm button at the side.
“You won’t need anything more,” Ellie explained. “Don’t engage in social networks, we don’t want someone from your past life to see you. The parental control is set up for that. The phone is always turned on and online; the GPS tracking and microphone can’t be switched off. The alarm button is for emergencies only, which means you are in direct danger or your client has turned violent. It happens very rarely with our clients, but let’s play safe. If you’re in a real danger and you press it, help will be in minutes. Otherwise, do not touch it. If your client doesn’t drive you back himself, just give us a call to pick you up; my number is in the phone book as the Mom contact. What else? There’s an NFC chip tied to your sub-account. You can get tips through it, and visit cafes before going home after work if you fancy to, nothing more.”
“Okay…” Jessie turned the phone on. Right, just the basic set of apps, including several simple casual games. She chuckled, then laughed. “I bet the developers of the parental control never imagined it would be used this way!”
“Exactly!” Ellie smiled. “And the last thing…”
She handed Jessie four strings of the colorful stones, and helped her to fasten them as anklets and bracelets.
“They are non-removable. The last security measure, just in case you’ll have to run away naked and leave your phone behind. They also have the GPS trackers and heartbeat monitors built in. Squeeze any red stone for five seconds for emergency help, any yellow stone to call for routine pick-up.” The tone of her words was pure business instruction. “Now go to the dorms and get some sleep, and eat in the kitchen when you get hungry. Then hang out with the girls, familiarize yourself, and wait for your clients. I’ll send your photos and videos to the site’s editor now. Your profile will be activated in an hour.”
Jessie padded back to the hall. The air in the hall still smelled of perfume and arousal. Some girls were already asleep on the sofas, curled up like cats. Others were still awake. Two girls from the console had already switched to the porn on a big screen and were grinding together on the floor. Jessie gave them a curious glance and then looked for a free bed.
The dormitory room was small and cozy, the beds neatly made, but there was an underlying sense of the room being only a temporary space for temporary inhabitants. She found an empty bunk by the window, pulled off her sundress, and slipped under the thin covers. The sheets were cool against her skin. She closed her eyes, the strange new reality a whirlwind in her mind, her body aching with a strange mix of exhaustion and a lingering, pleasant soreness. She pulled the blanket over herself, the scratchy wool a small, grounding sensation against her skin. She fell into her dream, full of images and sensations.
The cold railing of the bridge. The man in the cheap suit. The sterile white room. The taste of Chloe’s pussy on her tongue. The hum of the plane’s engines. Ellie’s smiling face, but now she was naked, and she touched Jessie’s body, and she… She moaned in her sleep, and then the world went dark.
***
She woke up alone. The beds next to her were empty, their covers carelessly arranged. The dormitory was quiet, the morning sun filtering through the window and painting stripes on the floor. She felt rested, and there was an empty feeling of calmness inside her, and a deep, thrumming hunger. Not the one for food, but for something else. For life. For the night.
She got up and stretched, her body feeling light and limber. She put on her sundress, then wandered to the kitchen. The place was bustling with activity. A couple of girls were standing by the table, making coffee and toast, their talk a sleepy murmur. A third one was rummaging through the fridge. One was sleeping on the sofa with a cat curled on her stomach. They noticed Jessie as she came in, but no one paid special attention to her. She was one of them now, just another call-girl sister.
The fridge was stocked with everything she could think of, the food was simple but good. She took out a carton of orange juice and a wrapped burger, poured herself a glass, and leaned against the counter, drinking it slowly, savoring the cool, sweet liquid sliding down her throat, while the burger was heating up in the microwave.
“You’re the new one.” A busty naked redhead, who was standing by the open balcony and smoking with a cup of coffee, looked at her with interest. “Jessie, I was told. I am Eva.”
Jessie nodded. “Hello. Yeah, Jessie. A fresh girl.”
She took the heated burger out of the microwave and bit it, then ate it ravenously. Oh, she did not realize she was so hungry!
“Wanna cigarette?” Eve beckoned her to the balcony. “Are you smoking?”
“I– I don’t remember.” Jessie followed her. “Maybe.” She looked at naked Eve’s body, then at her light sundress, then at the street with rare morning passers-by. “Huh. Is it okay for us to expose ourselves to the public?”
Eve laughed and handed her the cigarette from the half-empty pack she held in her hand. “It’s encouraged, actually. We are the main display here. They all know us.” She grinned, lighting Jessie’s cigarette with a cheap plastic lighter. “Just smoke, don’t bother with the rest.”
Jessie took a deep puff, the smoke filling her lungs. It burned, but rather in a pleasant way. She coughed violently. “Maybe I did not smoke.” But she took another drag. She could feel the nicotine rushing to her head, a dizzy, pleasant buzz that sharpened her senses. The world seemed to slow down: the sounds of the street, the smell of coffee and smoke, the warmth of the sun on her skin. She felt alive.
“Better?” Eve asked with a knowing smile. “So you don’t remember your past life at all?” Eve’s eyes widened. “I never met a wiped girl before. How does it feel?”
Jessie shrugged. “Relaxed, I think. I actually can’t tell how much I had lost. I remember many things, just nothing of my personal life before the wipe. No family, no friends… I just know I had them.” She stubbed out her cigarette on the railing, adding another small black mark on the paint to the dozens of older ones. “What’s the story about you? Are all of us… suiciders?”
“No, not at all. Some are, but only a few.” Eve looked down at the street, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Some are just whores who got better work here, some are runaways with big debts who needed the money. Some are just easygoing girls who don’t really care. And some, like me, were sold by their families.”
Jessie looked at her, a flicker of something akin to pity crossing her face, but it was gone as soon as it came. Pity was a luxury she couldn’t afford, and Eve seemed to have no use for it either.
“My family,” Eve continued, her voice flat, “they needed money for my brother’s education. I was just a pretty girl, not too bright, and they were real dickheads. So they sold me. To a pimp. He was a nasty piece of work, but he sold me to Ellie later.” She took a long drag from her cigarette, her gaze distant. “It was the best thing that happened to me. Here, I’m a star. I earn good money. And I’m free. In a way. I can rent an apartment, I can learn, I can date men, and get married, and get out of the business.” She lit the next cigarette and took a drag. “Some day.”
“How long are you here?”
“Five years. And three years before it, with that pimp. I started as a sixteen-year-old. Now I’m 24. And I’ve got my personal account, and I’ve earned a pretty nice sum already. I’m one of the top-tier girls. And I have a personal life as a normal girl, a real identity out there, too. Although who can tell which one is real?” She looked at Jessie, a genuine smile on her face for the first time. “You’re lucky you don’t remember the pain. I envy you in that. You have no one to grieve for, no one to blame.”
“I think so too,” Jessie said. “It’s… liberating. Being a blank slate. Not caring about the past and about the future. I’m happy in the present moment, that’s enough.” She looked down at her hands, then back at Eve. “Sounds like a Zen teaching, right? I like it here. I like being Jessie. Jessie the escort. I think that’s enough for me.”
Eve’s smile was a bit sad, a bit understanding. “I get it. When I was new, I felt the same. But you’ll see. The world out there, it’s… it’s not all bad. And it’s good to have a choice. Even if you choose this life, it’s good to know you have an escape hatch.” She stubbed out her cigarette. “Let’s go to the hall. Morning clients will start arriving soon.”
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