An escort by any other name (NTS, Bimbo)

John palmed the warming coin in his hand as they sat at the table, dinner going into him and spit and firestone going out of her. She loved nothing more than to rant and rave against her office and the bosses, a favorite pasttime of hers, and usually he found himself just sitting there, acting as a soundboard and letting her release some steam. He never really listened but she enjoyed his company nonetheless.

As they ate, though, he picked up some clues and hints that she was dropping, namely that she felt trapped and wanted to explore more of a wild side to her, freedom calling if it were. She knew that being a woman in an office of mostly men made her feel both spotted and invisible at the same time (was that even possible?) He looked at his wife of 20 years for a good while.

She wasn't frumpy or trollish by any measure of either word. Sure she wasn't a bombshell but she was also 42 years old and they had been married since graduating from Chicago (he went on to Med School while she went into business). They exercised, stayed active in the community, drank sociably and didn't really have any vices or distractions. Since determining that she was infertile, they had a steady and passionate sex life, nothing to complain about in that section of their marriage.

Still, being a doctor in a corporate setting, he knew sex and sex appeal was definitely something that would set people apart.

"So, listen, just a thought, what type of free-spirit/free energy job would you like to try, if you could?" he asked, jumping on something she had just stated.

Sarah blinked, it was unusual for him to join in when she was ranting and caught her off guard for a moment. "Oh...um..." she fidgeted, her direction redirected catching her by surprise and he smiled internally, placing a hand on hers. "Well..."

"You're thinking about that place, aren't you?" She knew well what he was referencing. They had driven past the nondescript mansion on the Villard Estates, an isolated development outside of the city that was surrounded by a massive yard and gates. From all appearances, that looked like a perfect place for a mad scientist or a top-down demon of a business mogul. Through inquiries, though, he found out that it was an escort service house. What exactly was an Escort Service House, he followed up.

A whore house. Discrete, private, very hush hush. But a whore house, essentially.

He had watched Sarah deal with this. Catholic school girl sensibilities versus a burning hunger to find out. He smiled and leaned his head down to look at his hand and the coin within it. I wish Sarah would loosen up and indulge in her wildside a bit...

"Listen, John," she replied softly, almost at a whisper. He looked back up with a smile. "I was wondering..."

I wish Sarah would become one of the girls that worked there, her body and age matching the average escort, during the night and return back to being Sarah whenever I say. She would remember her experiences there and be more than welcoming to her life as Amber, the escort. The coin became almost white hot but the changes somehow he knew were ready.

John tested it. "Hey, Amber..."

His wife's body shimmered for just a second before it was replaced by the body of a young woman, maybe 25 at the latest, who smiled at him. "Hey, I was just thinking it's been a while since we last sat down and ate together, Uncle John."