Part: 1 of 3
Pairing: Billy Martin (GC)/Doesn't say, until the last line, but here's a blatant hint (pst-icon)
Rating: Lets say R
Disclaimer: Don't own, although I REALLY wish that I did, and not real, no matter how much we wish it was.
Author's Note/Dedication: For my girls x_stoked_x and no_longer_care and to my beta biofucked. If all goes the way I hope and plan it to, this is the prologue to a chapter story, but it all depends on the muses, so if you like this, hope the muses (and work, cuz that's where I write) treat me kindly.
Summary: Billy Martin, whore for hire, gets his most seductive job yet.
The creak and swish of my pants made me feel uncomfortable as I walked. The directions had said to wear black leather pants, and because it was my job, I had to go out and buy them. Me, of all people, wearing leather. I wish I could have gotten away with pleather or something, but the directions said leather, and I was in no position to flout the directions I was given.
I looked down at the slip of paper in my hand, the slip that gave the address and room number, and I looked at the building in front of me. It figured that it was my luck that the address was the most posh hotel in the city, and there I was, dressed in black leather pants, black tank top and a black button down shirt, covered with a long black trench coat. I have to admit, I looked very much like the whore I was, and normally it wouldn't bother me, but I was about to walk into the highest class hotel in the city. I might as well have been wearing a sign that said 'whore for hire' around my neck.
I took a shaky breath and slipped the piece of paper into my back pocket, hoping beyond hope that if anyone paid any attention to me that they would think I was some rock star coming through the hotel for the night and not the whore I was. I had the room number locked in my mind as I made my way across the street and to the doors. The doorman gave me a knowing smirk and I knew that my hopes of being mistaken for a rock star were already plummeting. Desperately I pulled my sunglasses out of my pocket and shoved them over my eyes. The bits of hair that I'd styled so meticulously for this job falling down over the stems, the back sticking up in a true punk rock fashion, and I hoped that the tattoos were visible enough that I just might be able to pull it off with the right swagger.
I made my way across the lobby, ignoring everyone and everything that was already there, doing my best to make my swagger as cocky and self assured as I could, heading straight for the elevators. Pushing the button for the elevator I pulled out my cell phone to look busy and as if I knew what I was doing, although my eyes were peering out from behind the dark rims at the board that said where the rooms were. Room #666 (what hotel has a room with that number?) was on the sixth floor, I should have figured.
The elevator arrived and I stepped on, immediately hitting the button for the sixth floor, thanking whatever deity existed that there was no elevator attendant at this hotel, or maybe it was just too late for them to be working, either way, I was thanking whoever was in control of the universe for that small piece of luck. I didn't want to be stuck alone in a small space with someone and be forced to have a conversation. I knew I was a whore for hire, but that didn't mean I was proud of it, and it didn't mean I looked forward to each little job that was set to me. Although, I had to admit, something about this one screamed at me that it would be different than every other job I'd had before. Something was telling me that this job was going to change everything in my life. I shook my head to myself, thinking I had to be crazy if I actually believed that one fuck would change everything and before I knew it the elevator doors were open and I was stepping out onto the sixth floor.
I walked slowly down the hallway, checking my watch as I did. I was told to arrive promptly at 2am, and my watch told me that it was only 1:50am. I shoved my phone into my coat pocket and removed the sunglasses, shoving them into my pocket as well. I paused in front of a mirror in the hallway and gave myself a good look. I had ten minutes to find the room and be sure I looked devastatingly sexy before I opened the door. The problem was I didn't think I looked devastatingly sexy. But I went off of what my best friend had told me, eyeliner and makeup, a little gel, the right clothes, and anyone would fall for me. So my eyes were lined with dark black liner, making my crystal blue eyes shine from behind. My lids were covered in bright pink eye shadow, and my lips were made shiny and plump by this new lip gloss I'd found called LipFusion. My lip-ring was set perfectly in the center of my lips and my skin was clear and unblemished. I took off my coat, looking at my clothes and unbuttoned a few more buttons on the shirt, nodding to myself as I finally figured I looked as good as I was going to get. The leather pants were so low and so tight my hip bones would be seen if I lifted the wife-beater, and they had a lace up crotch, I certainly hoped my customer would love them and give me a bigger tip because of them, because they cost a lot of money.
I pulled off my watch and shoved it into my jacket pocket after checking to be sure I still had five minutes. I fixed my earrings in my ears and the ring on my right hand. I played with the chord of leather around my throat for a moment before pulling away from the mirror and continuing my way down to the last room on the floor. Room #666, it was obviously a corner and suite by the way it was situated on the hall. I took a deep breath, pulling out my phone and looking at the numbers, waiting for the 1:59 to turn over to 2:00. It took forever, or at least felt like it did, but once it did I dropped my phone into my coat pocket again, turned the door knob and walked into the hotel room.