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It was late at night, and the sun had set hours ago. Most people were home from work by now, near their loved ones, watching TV maybe or even getting ready for bed. Not Emma. For her work was just about to begin. Not Emma’s customers. They were glad to be away from their loved ones for a night.
Emma waited. She was used to it. The dressing room was shared by several of the girls and subsequently a bit of a mess. Make-up utensils, notebooks, snacks, mobiles and handbags cluttered the tables with the large mirrors, which they all used to prepare themselves for their working nights. All except Emma, who tended to need one of the others to help her. Despite the new smoking ban the various cheap perfumes had to compete with a strong cigarette smell as well the sharp aroma of nail polish remover.
At the moment Emma sat on a wooden stool deep in thought and eyeing her reflection. She wasn’t particularly happy with what she saw, but then again she’d never been, even before the accident. She had been tall once and had thought herself a bit freaky. Now she was tiny, and everyone thought her very freaky indeed.
Emma was still in her casual clothing, and her legs were hidden beneath washed out blue jeans, and a pair of sneakers, and as long as she was sitting down no one would have been able to tell that these legs were mostly made of plastic. They weren’t great prosthetics, but Emma had always been rather happy with them, they almost matched her skin tone, and were comfortable enough to be worn for pretty extended periods. With her legs severed right above the knees, she still didn’t feel very sure-footed or fast on her plastic legs, but she could get around reliably enough.
Her arms were a different matter altogether. Her left arm was gone entirely, mercilessly crushed by a falling boulder, and entirely beyond rescue. The right, dominant arm, had mostly survived the fall, and only its hand was missing. This was supposed to be Emma’s longest, most reliable limb, and she’d indeed made a lot of progress since the physical therapy. Unfortunately, she’d never really gotten the hang of using a metal hook, and was left depending on others for a great many things, such dressing herself or doing her hair and make-up. Even putting on her legs was too tall an order at the moment. She looked at her blouse, its left sleeve was tied in order to hide the scarred shoulder, and she noticed the slightly crooked collar. With her stump she began to try and adjust it, brushing away her hair to make it easier.
She had long, straight hair, which was draped around her shoulders in a decidedly impractical way. Emma liked how it looked, and luckily for her so did the customers. She liked to dye it frequently, and thanks to an understanding boyfriend she hadn’t had to stop after the accident. Emma knew that he had to be understanding what with her line of work, and she was eternally grateful. At the moment her hair was a bright shade of purple and reached down to her chest, and had actually inspired her truly creative, current stage name of Violet. Violet the Broken Angel. It sounded a tad too melodramatic for Emma’s taste, but the customers seemed to adore it.
The door opened, and one of Emma’s fellow working girls stepped inside. This girl was paid as one and worked as one, even though she or indeed they were undeniably two people. The customers knew them as Jessie and Belle the Mysterious Twins from the East. Emma knew them as Beth and Mel from the crappy apartment building two blocks away.
Most of their single body was that of a beautiful woman, athletic and curvy, with soft, smooth skin, and a dancer’s excellent posture. Their shoulders were maybe slightly broader than one would expect of a woman of their height, but it was only what was above that made them truly unique. Two pretty, vaguely Asian-looking faces rested on a pair of ordinary-sized necks. Their heads were as similar as one would expect a pair of twins to be, and the effect was enhanced by copious amounts of make-up, leaving the two of them virtually indistinguishable. Their dark hair was kept in the exact same oriental style as well, and only few of their closest friends were now able to tell them apart; one of these friends being Emma.
‘Sorry, we were sweeping up out front,’ Beth said. ‘Been waiting long?’
‘Hey guys.’ Emma yawned. ‘Kinda, but then I got here early, so don’t worry, we’ve got time.’
Emma had given up on trying to figure out just how the twins moved. She knew from experience that both of them controlled about half of their body, with one head, one arm and one leg each. Yet they were capable of walking perfectly normally, of using two hands to do their make-up without talking, and even of things like clapping and typing. When asked about these feats, they’d only say that they didn’t really think about it and that if they did, these things would be a lot harder.
‘Who is the lucky man tonight?’ Mel asked, and the twins took Emma’s notebook from the table, and leafed through it.
‘Oh Escort Bayan look a John Smith, someone’s really gone the extra mile with that name. Ever had him before, Emma?’
Mel was the one talking, and her gaze was still fixed on the little book. Emma had learned not to answer Mel’s questions while looking Beth in the eye or the other way around. It had seemed like an odd thing to be annoyed with at first, but Emma could see now how one’s individuality could rather suffer from things like that. So, like Beth, she looked at Mel while paying attention.
‘Yup, and he’s a quite sweet actually, he was the one who needed me to talk him through the whole thing.’
‘Aww,’ Beth laughed.
‘Want to wear anything special for him?’ Mel asked.
‘Hm, he was definitely a tits guy. What about the black push-up, and the pink dress with the…’
She waved her stump in front of her chest.
‘Ooh, you hoping for a tip?’ Beth nodded knowingly.
‘Well if last time is any indication…’
The twins had gotten good at helping Emma. She stood up, and they removed her clothing quickly and efficiently. There was no embarrassment any more, and they had no problem touching Emma’s stumps or prosthetics, or even her more private areas. They kept Emma’s legs on for now, and soon she was standing naked, still in front of the mirror.
The twins generously applied deodorant, and Emma coughed a little and tried to dissipate the cloud with her stump. Next was a little perfume, with a few spritzes on Emma’s neck and arm. She had started to like the smell, even though it wasn’t a particularly renowned brand, as she had to get quite a lot of it every week.
While Beth and Mel were off gathering her outfit, Emma decided to walk around the dressing room a little. Her steps were always small and careful, and she always took a moment to check her leg stumps after standing up. Emma could feel the blood rushing into them, but otherwise, they were fine. More than once she’d had trouble after finishing with a client because her stumps had gotten all swollen, and the client couldn’t get her legs back on. This was one of the many reasons why she usually preferred to entertain her customers right here in the establishment’s back rooms.
Emma performed a little twirl in front of the mirror, and used her arm stump to poke her bare bum, before grimacing. It was getting firmer, she thought, but she wasn’t quite there yet. She’d been exercising religiously the last few months, but it had proven quite challenging in her condition. Emma turned back round. Well, she certainly wasn’t as fit as the twins, but this job had at the very least been good for her self-esteem, and she had no trouble viewing herself as desirable.
Beth and Mel returned with the dress and lingerie. First, they knelt down in front of Emma, so that she could step into the pair of satin panties with her little steps, before they pulled them up. The push-up bra was a little trickier, as they kept pulling and pressing in order to maximise the effect, arguing about which angles were the most important. Emma was glad to note that the dress was a little less tight around the waist than it had been the last time she’d worn it. It was an impressive little number, accentuating her cleavage in an almost impertinent manner, and not even reaching down to Emma’s plastic knees. The back was mostly free, and the black bra strap was displayed prominently and hopefully enticingly.
The brush tickled against Emma’s face, as the twins applied a thick layer of make-up. Emma’s skin wasn’t bad, although it got dry in places, and her nose and cheeks were red from the cold outside. This was the easiest way to hide these little blemishes. She admired the twins’ skill as make-up artists, her lipstick matched the dress beautifully, and had been bought specifically for it, the light blue eye shadow made her eyes look positively huge and combined with the mascara made Emma look a whole lot more feminine. She fluttered her eyelashes at herself in the mirror and blew a kiss.
‘Lean forward,’ Mel said, and the twins helped Emma put on a long necklace with a light blue glass stone, which fell right between her pushed up breasts, making them even harder to miss now.
Then they combed her long hair, which Emma preferred to wear straight and open, and helped Emma into a pair of high heels. They weren’t particularly high, yet still made walking an even greater challenge. It had gotten a little easier ever since adhesive rubber pads had been added to the inside, making sure that the plastic feet were secured.
The final touch was a pair of silver earrings in the shape of little flowers. Emma looked at the twins’ completed handiwork. It wasn’t a classy or glamorous outfit, she knew, but then it wasn’t meant to be. Its purpose was to intrigue and excite, and her purpose was only to bring pleasure. And even tired and exhausted as she was, Emma knew she’d have no problem tonight doing just Bayan Escort that.
‘Pretty hot I’d say,’ Beth said, and her hand slapped Emma’s bum.
Emma noticed Mel’s nose twitching. This, Emma had observed, seemed to signify one twin being surprised or annoyed by the other’s movements.
‘Thanks, girls,’ she said.
‘You better get going,’ Mel said.
Emma checked the clock on the wall.
‘Yeah. Have you guys got a client soon?’
‘Nah, time for a break first,’ Beth said. ‘We cleaned up all by ourselves tonight.’
‘We need a coffee,’ Mel agreed, and checked her phone. ‘That coffee shop should be doable. Do you want anything, Emma?’
‘Nah, thanks, it’ll only get cold,’ Emma said.
‘Got it, well good luck then, see you later,’ Mel said.
‘Bye,’ Beth added.
They grabbed a handbag, and hurried out of the door. Emma picked up her leather notebook with her stump, using the elbow joint to grab it. She couldn’t write in it herself, but she had learned to turn the pages, and could at least use it to check her appointments. She hoped to buy a touchscreen tablet to use instead soon, and was making good progress in learning how to better use her smart phone as well.
She dropped the notebook into her brown leather handbag. Emma never closed its zip, but luckily she’d never been robbed. She wondered if potential thieves felt sorry for her. If that meant not worrying about protecting her cash she’d be okay with it, she thought, and lent down to put her arm through the handbag’s strap before straightening up again, the handbag now slung securely around her shoulder. Emma walked to the door, and pushed down the handle with her stump, glad that there were no doorknobs here.
Violet took a deep breath, stepped outside the dressing room and went to meet with John Smith.
She easily recognised him from afar. He was a small, pudgy man, and even though she knew that he was pushing forty, his clean-shaven, round face made him look a lot younger.
He was sat on a red leather sofa in a private booth, two drinks he’d ordered stood in front of him. One was a Daiquiri, just what she’d ordered last time. She would probably have been impressed, if this hadn’t been what almost every returning customer did. Violet didn’t even like Daiquiris all that much, they were nice enough, but she didn’t generally get too excited about alcoholic beverages. She’d simply been told that this one would be good for the image she tried to cultivate night after night, and she’d happily gone along with it.
Armed with the brightest of smiles she approached her client. He got up awkwardly, and offered his hand, his eyes immediately drawn to Violet’s pushed up breasts. She ignored the hand, and went straight for a hug.
‘So good to see you,’ she said, and kissed him on the cheek.
‘H-hello again,’ said John Smith.
‘Sit down, sit down, make yourself comfortable,’ Violet gently pushed the man towards the sofa.
Sitting down took her a little longer, and she used John Smith’s shoulder to support herself before sidling up to him immediately. Only now she acknowledged the drink.
‘Is that for me? Oh darling you shouldn’t have.’
John Smith’s face was pink now.
‘You know I’ll be needing your help with this, don’t you?’
He reached out for the drink, but Violet put her stump on his arm.
‘Not so fast, deary, aren’t we forgetting something?’
‘Oh yes, sure,’ he said, suddenly flustered, probably wondering if he’d been in any way rude.
He produced his wallet. Like last time Violet noticed his expensive-looking clothing. They couldn’t hide his figure, but she thought his ensemble quite fashionable. He’d told her about his job in IT before, and had gone into exceedingly boring detail, while she’d done her very best to feign interest. Apparently things were still going well in that department, as he counted out Violet’s fee, and added a sizeable bonus.
‘So generous,’ she kissed his unsuspecting lips, then nodded towards her handbag, and John Smith dutifully placed the banknotes inside.
‘Now that that’s all done,’ Violet waved her stump in the direction of the drinks.
He picked both of them up, looked Violet in the eyes, and clinked the glasses together.
‘Cheers,’ he said, and smiled cheesily.
Violet laughed. He’d totally planned that, and once again he was not the first to do it.
He held the glass up for her, and she took a sip, pressing her lips against the rim. When John Smith put the glass down, she saw her pink lipstick on it, and smiled proudly. He noticed it as well.
‘Lovely,’ she said.
It was particularly newer clients who preferred to have these little charades beforehand. Violet didn’t mind, it made the whole thing seem much less impersonal in her eyes. John Smith especially was just as grateful for her affection here as he was in the bedroom. It was obvious just how much he wasn’t used to being fawned over, to Escort being listened to, even to being taken seriously. Violet had met many, many people like him, and she knew exactly what she was doing. All of her movements, her little gestures, compliments, now and again a touch, a kiss, it was all part of the experience, and Violet knew how her client would react every single time.
Eventually their drinks were finished, and John Smith seemed considerably less nervous now. Not calm. Violet saw to that. Her arm stump leaning on the sofa’s backrest and with some effort she swung a plastic leg over John Smith’s real ones. She pulled herself closer, and was now sitting on the man’s lap, facing him with a mischievous smile.
He’d made this little exercise a bit easier by timidly keeping his legs together, and was now staring at Violet’s face with genuine admiration and awe, his hand already reaching out to stroke her cheek. The girl gave him an encouraging look, and John Smith grabbed her by the hips, pulling her closer. Violet let him, and when her body was pressed up against his, and she could feel the excitement building up in his groin area, she gave him yet another long, tender and very wet kiss, her forehead against his and her arm stump caressing John Smith’s crotch.
When she pulled back, she was satisfied to see her client left breathless, and she used the opportunity to whisper into his ear.
‘We could go now,’ she said, and knew that they would. ‘If you’d like.’
‘Uh-huh,’ John Smith nodded furiously.
‘Well sweetheart, how about you help me up then.’
Shaking hands supported her, as Violet rose carefully. She tried to retain her confident, controlling facade, but it was obvious that he was doing most of the work.
‘Follow me,’ she said, and reached out with her stump as though inviting John Smith to a dance, and he grasped it eagerly.
The pair slowly made their way through the brothel. Violet felt a flicker of pride as she noticed that John Smith took no notice of any of the other girls, varied and fascinating though they were. Not of the Emerald Goddess, not of the Amazonian Beauty, nor even of Sally the Supple Slave Girl. He had only eyes for Violet the Broken Angel.
The back room that had been assigned to Violet for the night was small and functional, and hadn’t been lavishly decorated or modified for any specific kink as some of the others were. It had the look of cheap hotel room, but to the working girls’ relief these rooms were always kept clean and tidy.
The queen-sized bed was freshly made, and bottles of both water and wine were provided. Violet had also asked for a bowl of chocolate-covered strawberries and was delighted, and not a little surprised when she could actually see it on the night stand. Violet prised her stump away from John Smith’s hand. He had followed her obediently, and was now left standing in the door frame, clearly unsure of how to proceed. Violet affected a bright, sweet laugh, as though she considered her client’s shyness the single most endearing trait imaginable.
‘Come in dear,’ she said. ‘And do close the door.’
She walked confidently towards the bed, and John Smith followed closely.
‘Would you look at that,’ she said, pretending to have only just noticed the strawberries.
For a second John Smith’s gaze flickered into the fruits’ direction, but he focused back on Violet almost immediately. He came closer. Violet could smell the sweat through a thick layer of rather classy perfume. She saw the beads on his brow and the trembling hands. Gently she placed her stump on his shoulder.
‘Now. What is it you’d like to do?’
John Smith shuddered, and Violent nodded patiently.
‘How do you like my dress?’ she asked.
‘It’s amazing,’ he sounded beyond genuine.
‘Why thank you so much, but maybe we could do without it,’ she attempted a meaningful look.
John Smith’s eyes grew, and his face reddened. He placed his hands on Violet’s sides, and began to trace her form. His touch was light, hesitant. Violet laughed, and held her arm stump against John Smith’s cheek.
‘Go on,’ she said, looking him deep in the eyes.
His fingers wandered up, stroking Violet’s body, her back, her shoulders. Slowly they advanced towards the breasts, cupping them, and then squeezing them with immense care. He looked up, and when Violet’s expression hadn’t changed he squeezed a tiny bit harder. Desire aflame and full of youthful excitement, John Smith began to massage her breasts, gleefully staring at his toy. He took a deep breath, and paused.
When Violet nodded, he pulled down the straps of the pink dress, and Violet raised her arm. It was obvious that it took a great deal of effort for John Smith to lower the dress slowly, he winced when he could see her bra, and again when the pair of matching panties was revealed. Once it was on the ground, Violet clumsily stepped out of her dress. Then with a coy smile, she let herself fall back onto the bed, displaying her body in the beautiful, black lingerie.
This had been scary the first few times, but by now she could gauge the height and distance easily. John Smith looked as though he was about to follow, but Violet held up her stump to stop him.
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