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Secrecy, Sex and Sense

“Meet Ginger. Stunningly beautiful, accomplished – talented. Her fresh perspective and congenial personality enhance her alluring physical appeal. Breath-taking beauty, inspiring conversation, and a candid personality make her an unrivaled companion. When seeking an invigorating, rejuvenating experience, Ginger is the choice for a girl-friend companion.”


Ginger’s got the three s’s: Secrecy, Sex and Sense

Secrecy is her key, sex her allure, and business sense her drive.

Men risk their careers for one night with Ginger. One night of fantasy sex – where she’ll be anything he wants her to be. Do anything he wants. Has he been a naughty boy? Ginger will punish him. Is he looking for a wild ride? Ginger will rev his motor.

Ginger blends into his world, because she is from his world. When five o’clock comes, she arrives at his hotel, dressed in her daytime business attire. She works in the New York’s financial district – the hub of the moneyed world. So does he.

She’ll risk her day job, her health, her very life, for the thousands a man will pay to have her for just one night.

Then she can slink back into his world, and no one’s the wiser…

Except for her.

Ginger believes she’s beating him at his own game.

Ginger’s got more money for one night’s work than she could make in a week at her marketing job. She also gets investment advice from a ‘client’ who is probably the wizard of Wall Street. All that money buys a summer home on Long Island’s East End, and a sporty little Porsche. A few trips, too. Maybe to the islands, Europe.

He knows Ginger won’t tell. Or will she? He gets away with it once, twice…a few times. Money for sex, sex for hire. A simple concept that can lead to tragic results.

What keeps her coming back? Is it just the money? No, I think it’s…


He gets a taste of her and he’s hooked. Like a drug, she’s an addiction, something he can’t resist. That gives her power.

He’s addicted to her, but she’s addicted to the money.

Ginger tricked the entire world – no one knows who she really is. Maybe that’s where the phrase ‘turning a trick’ comes from. No one knows what goes on behind her little two-piece business suit, but tucked away in her handbag are her little leather whips and satin-lined handcuffs.

She’s a ‘call-girl’ – a term used at the turn of the century. A man would ‘call a girl’ for sex using that new invention, the telephone. No man calls Ginger– they don’t have to. She knows when to show up, when to leave. Her service is discreet and deliciously naughty.

But one man will turn the tables on Ginger…

When death marks her door in the middle of the night.


Mark opened the door just as Grace arrived at his room on the eighth floor of the Marriott. He pulled her inside, his hand squeezing her upper arm in a tight, vise-like grip.

“Ginger,” he whispered, his mouth closing over hers, slipping his hand inside her Armani jacket. He lifted the hem of her black silk tank top and ran his hand underneath; his fingers opening the front catch of her bra. She moaned into his mouth as he rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. A shot of pleasure, combined with just a hint of pain coursed through her belly and settled between her legs. “Ginger,” he tore his mouth from hers, and whispered in her ear, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“So am I,” came her response - one Grace uttered too many times to count.

He backed her up against the door and continued to caress her breasts, cupping them in his large palms, lifting her shirt so he could bend down and suckle them.

“Wait, Mark, I…” she couldn’t catch her breath. “What’s wrong?” she grasped his head between her hands, her fingers digging into his scalp. He cried out, but didn’t stop as her long, red nails scraped his skin.

Mark liked pain, but tonight, something wasn’t right. She could feel the tremors running through his tall frame, could smell his sweat. The odor of fear hung around him, its pungent smell drifting by her nose.

He stopped touching her bare breasts, easing her shirt down over her belly. Running a hand through his hair, he gazed at her, his big, dark eyes solemn and…

For just a second, she thought she saw fear in his eyes. One minute they appeared large and round, the next…they shrunk, concealing the emotion that she swore lay hidden there.

“I think someone’s following me, Ginger. I think…that someone knows what I, I-I mean, what we do here.”

It wasn’t like Mark to stumble over his words. Smooth, savvy, handsome Mark Chase, one of New York’s wealthiest financiers. His list of clients read like the who’s who of the money world.
Mark walked across the room towards the small bar in the corner. Grace thought she saw a tremor shoot through him - his body shook for just a few seconds with the same tremors she thought she felt earlier.

He poured himself a glass of scotch.

Mark never drank. Prozac was more his speed. Except, of course, when he was with her.
“You’re better than any drug,” he would tell her.

But tonight, she saw how he needed the liquor.


“I don’t like feeling this way,” he glanced out the windows, at the magnificent view of the Statue of Liberty and the blue water of New York’s harbor.

She walked over to him. “What’s wrong?” He seemed pale, and when she ran a hand down his back, she could feel the tight, tense muscles underneath his shoulder blades.

He drained the glass, gulping down the last few sips of the amber-colored liquid then turned to face her, his eyes hard. “Someone’s following me, watching my every move.”

“You need--” she stopped.

He beetled his dark brows. “What?”

She wanted to say, ‘more Prozac’ but didn’t. Even though she thought that’s exactly what he needed.

And what she didn’t need tonight was a tense, taut, under-medicated client.

You’re better than any drug, Ginger…

It was time to prove it.

“Come on,” she grabbed his hand and led him over to the bed. He followed behind, like a docile child stopping until his knees bumped the mattress. “Let me help you…relax.” She did her sexiest, best, deep-Ginger voice, knowing that what Mark liked most is that she really didn’t look the part she played. Her Armani business suit made her look like one of his own. It made it easier to relax – to be around her, knowing that she traveled in his world, understood his problems, his needs…

It was always about him.

That’s why he paid her the big bucks. Her eyes caught sight of the large wad of cash sitting on the bedside table. It would be hers for the taking when she finished her ‘facilitation.’

Ginger began a slow striptease, easing the herringbone jacket from her shoulders, Mark’s dark eyes following her every move. She tossed the jacket on a nearby chair then drew the silky tank top up and over her chest, the smooth material caressing her nipples. The cool, air-conditioned air blew across them, making them stand at attention. She gazed down at Mark’s crotch…he stood at attention, too.

“If you’re a very good boy, we’ll use my toys.”

A tiny flicker of heat leaped into his eyes.

Bare-breasted, she reached into her bag and withdrew a small whip. “Lie down,” she commanded.

He stretched out onto his back on the bed.

“I’ll make you forget all this foolishness,” she crooned. “All this talk of someone following you.”
Ginger hiked up her skirt to reveal…nothing. She wore no underwear beneath her Armani skirt. Mark’s eyes traveled to her smooth shaven mound, his gaze resting on the two little folds of flesh covering her clit. A muscle jumped in his cheek. He swallowed hard. When she placed her hand against his chest, she could feel the rapid beat of his heart.

She climbed up onto the bed then straddled him, running the little tassel on the end of the whip across his beard-shadowed chin. “No more crazy talk,” she whispered. “You’re going to be fine.”
She smacked his chin, just a little. His cock swelled beneath her pussy. Ginger ground her clit against him…then smacked his chin again, this time, harder.

She unbuttoned his shirt, taking her time, trailing the end of the whip across his chest. His smooth, hair-free, shiny pecs gleamed in the soft light from overhead.

Ginger eased the shirt from Mark’s body and tossed it aside. “Naughty boy,” she told him, bending to whisper in his ear.

She smacked his chest with the whip, heard his sharp intake of breath, watched his eyes dilate; widening each time she smacked the whip across his skin.

“More,” he begged. “More, Ginger…I want…”

“I know what you want, what you like,” she drew out the last word.

Ginger shimmied down his legs, drawing her sensitive little nubbin across his groin. He moaned, his cock growing stiff and hard beneath the elegant cut of his trousers.

She unbuckled his pants, pulled down the zipper, and eased the trousers from his hips, down his long legs. Next came his boxers, his stiff cock springing free from their silk prison. Ginger removed his socks, too. Mark couldn’t ‘perform’ while he wore them – just one of his quirks that Ginger knew well.

“Move,” she commanded. “Get up and move to the head of the bed.”

Mark crawled to the top, turning to face the headboard. She reached into her handbag and retrieved the handcuffs, slapping them on his wrists, shackling him to the headboard. Ginger leaned down and kissed his bare ass then she drew the tip of the little whip down the center, in the separation between the two cheeks of his backside.

“Spread your legs,” she told him, nudging his thighs apart with the whip. He didn’t move. “Open them,” she leaned up and whispered in his ear. “Open them now.” She almost said his name, but recovered quickly. Mark never wanted her to say his name aloud when she…facilitated.

She stuck the whip between his legs and tickled his balls with the tip. Soon, he spread his thighs. Ginger reached into her bag for the blindfold. She grasped the ends, one in each hand, and reached around, placing the black piece of silk across his eyes. Then she knotted it against the back of his.

Patting his ass with the tip of the whip, she asked. “Have you been a good boy today?”
He shook his head, ‘no.”


He moaned, pulling against his restraints, his big hands straining against the headboard.

“Why not?” Ginger purred. “Why haven’t you been a good boy? What naughty thing did you do this time?”

He hung his head and whispered. “I thought about eating your pussy all day.”

Grace made her voice sound stern. “That’s all you think about. Pussy.” She smacked his ass again, this time, leaving a small, line across his right butt cheek. Grace watched as the thin line grew puffy and red.

Again she leaned up and asked, “Do you want to eat my pussy?”

His entire body shuddered. The bed shook beneath Grace’s knees, causing her to fall against him. She took the opportunity to brush the tips of her breasts against his back.

“You can eat me,” she crooned. “but not yet.” She smacked his ass again.

She drew in a breath as she reached down and rubbed her fingers across her labia. When she pulled them away, two glistening drops of her essence lay against her fingertips. “Here,” she held them up to his lips. “Smell me. Taste me.”

Mark inhaled, pulling against the restraints. His tongue snaked out, but he didn’t make contact with her fingers. She laughed, pulling them away then slid them under his nose again.

“Naughty boy,” she crooned softly. “Now, mommy’s going to have to teach you a lesson.”

She smacked his ass again with the whip. And again. She did it two more times, watching as the thin lines turned into bright, red welts against the pale skin of his backside.

“Now that you’ve learned your lesson, I’ll let you have a little treat.”

Ginger opened the sheepskin lined handcuffs, easing Mark’s wrists from their metal shackles. Mark turned and reached for Grace, flipping her on her back, forcing her legs open. The quick, jerky motion hurt, the muscles of her inner thighs stretching in response.

For just a second, she almost panicked, for Mark usually wasn’t this rough. He must have realized what he did, though, as she felt his grip on her inner thighs ease.

He bent his dark head and began an assault on her clit, shoving his tongue deep inside her. He nipped her little nubbin with his teeth, making her cry out as her orgasm took hold. It rose up within her, a great wall of white-hot ecstasy. When it receded, she reached over and grabbed her bag, withdrawing a condom. She leaned up and placed it over Mark’s swollen cock, but before she could get it on him, he grasped her head between his hands, forcing her mouth down on his cock.

She suckled him as he held her head in place, but it strained her neck.

Panic set in once more. “You’re hurting me,” she told him. “Stop it.”

He eased off.

She felt the sting of tears, but continued. This wasn’t like Mark at all! They played their game together, and he surrendered quickly, but he never hurt her.


That night, he pounded into Grace. She could feel his big body ease, feel the tension drain from him as he came inside her. He pulled out, and Grace finished her facilitation by easing the condom off his large dick, tossing the used condom into a bag. She’d dispose of it later…she never left them behind.

As she lay in bed next to him, she wondered at the change in him.

She’d have to tell Madam Leigh. She’d probably tell Ginger she wouldn’t have to go back. All this was supposed to be was a little fantasy sex…nothing more. If the client got rough, they were dropped like yesterday’s garbage.

Ginger dressed quickly when Mark fell asleep. She grabbed the cash and left, being careful to tread lightly and not disturb his slumber.

She took one last look at Mark’s sleeping form, his tall body lay sprawled across the bed, his breathing deep and even.

Ginger glanced down at the cash in her hand. A thousand dollars.

Well, maybe she’d be back…

She wouldn’t complain, she’d just get used to Mark’s new ‘style.’
Just like she got used to a lot of crappy things in her life…

She always did.

copyright 2008 by Catherine Chernow
Note: This excerpt is unedited and may differ slightly from the final version
Coming your way this April from…


Judith Rochelle said...

Great, great excerpt. And if ginger doesn't want Mark, she camn send him to my hosue. The door is wide open! LOL!. Writing this on my To Buy list. Sigh! Can't wait to read the rest.

Catherine Chernow said...

Hi Judith!

Ginger's got lots in store for her in DIARY OF A MAD ESCORT.

When she meets her nemesis, Alex Winters, 'the Iceman,' she's going to experience a realm of sensual pleasures she's never felt before.

: )

Catherine Chernow

Ashley Ladd said...

All these great excerpts. More for the TBR list. :)

Catherine Chernow said...

And you can listen to a super hot audio excerpt of DIARY OF A MAD ESCORT at:


: )

Catherine Chernow

Lisabet Sarai said...

Whew! That is one hot excerpt. I like the mystery, too. And the cover is amazing!

Catherine Chernow said...

Hi Lisabet! I'm so pleased you enjoyed the excerpt.

I, too, love to read stories that are not only super hot, but have some intrigue in them.

: )

Catherine Chernow