Sneak Peek Yacht Party - Cat Walk Diaries - Book 6
Prologue
Madeline studied the list of models chosen for the yacht party Mr. Chan was arranging. She had tried to cover all the bases. Each of her models was beautiful, but as they say, variety is the spice of life.
She had a blond, Goldie; a brunette, Ebony. The red-head was Ruby. For ethnic representation she had chosen Raven, a beautiful black model, and Jade, a tall exotic-looking Eurasian.
Madeline decided this assignment would be perfect for her newest escorts, Goldie and Raven. It was easy work that didn’t require intimacy. It was better to go easy on the new girls. And since Ruby was pregnant, this would be stress-free, lucrative work for her.
They would all make a bundle on this job.
Besides running the modeling agency, booking her models with designers, clothing manufacturers, and photographers, for print and live productions, Madeline also had this secret side-line: providing models as call girls and escorts for extremely wealthy clients.
It was dangerous—and extremely profitable for both her and the specially chosen models who worked as escorts.
The danger was always palpable. Madeline tried to be careful, vetting each client thoroughly. She employed a detective agency for this work, making sure each new client was exactly who he represented himself to be. Financials were required from each prospective client. There was a hefty refundable fee, payable to the agency, just to be added to the list of clients. It was almost like they were members of an exclusive club.
She felt the greatest danger for her business wasn’t from the clients. They didn’t want their family, and especially their wives, to know they employed escorts. Neither did they want their friends or business acquaintances to know that they used call girls for sexual relief or as arm candy.
They understood their lives, families, future earnings, and reputations could be ruined if the information was revealed. It had happened to major politicians and business executives.
The clients just wanted to wow their friends with a beautiful companion, or to have safe sex with a lovely woman, so the clients of Madeline’s agency tended to be very careful about keeping their use of this special service private.
The greatest risk came from the women Madeline employed as escorts. Right now she believed that none of them wanted to be revealed as an escort, or call girl. On the other hand, the more lurid tabloids would jump at the chance to publish the story of a well-known modeling agency that covered for another business, in what they would consider sex trade.
The more sensationalistic tabloids would probably spend hundreds of thousands of dollars for this type of information, which could ruin Madeline’s legitimate and well respected modeling agency.
Madeline felt the main reason she hadn’t had any problems was because she cultivated a special relationship with each of the women she employed as escorts. They had loyalty and respect for her. She kept their number small, and only employed ten women for this work. She didn’t want to be greedy and lose control of this profitable scheme by overextending. That would only increase the danger of exposure.
Her models in this end of the business made a very substantial living. She split the hourly client fees. Sixty percent went to the escort, forty percent to the agency.
The monthly luncheon meetings Madeline insisted these models attend also produced a kind of camaraderie and loyalty. If the women knew and liked each other, they would be less likely to gossip about the Cat Walk Agency, knowing how badly they could hurt their friends.
Madeline picked up the phone and speed dialed Ebony. “Hi Sweetie, it’s Madeline. You remember Mr. Chan? He’s having a yacht party at the L.A. Harbor and wants you and four other models to circulate with his friends and have dinner on board. It will be about three hours of work. There will be about seventy guests in all. Friday night.”
“Sure, I can go,” Ebony said.
“Great. And I know it’s last minute, but Lionel wants a Train tonight. I’m scrambling to get all the women organized. Are you available?”
“Yes,” Ebony said. “Can I help? I could call a few of the women if you’d like.”
“I’ve got it covered so far. I’ll let you know. So far I’ve confirmed Ruby, Star, Sapphire, Jade and Goldie. So six women will be fine. He wants it after dark, at about eight tonight.”
Chapter 1 – Jade
I woke, disoriented once again. I’d been dreaming about the soaring peaked mountains, the green valleys, and cool cloudy weather of my home, China. In the dream I could even smell the sharp cold breezes.
Sighing, I threw off the covers and got up. It was still a ritual to bow in front of the Buddha statue on the dressing table, although I didn’t light the candles and pray, as I’d been taught to do every morning at the orphanage in China.
Behind the statue of the chubby, beneficent looking deity, I could see my reflection in the mirror. My long black hair was shiny, coarse, and totally straight. The other models where I worked said I was so lucky, but I was tired of seeing the same thing every morning.
I wished to be blond, or a red-head, just for a day, to see how it would feel, but those colors would look strange on my face, which is definitely Oriental, with slanted eyes almost covered by heavy epicanthic folds. Although I don’t know my entire parentage, I am definitely part Chinese.
In China, I didn’t look Oriental enough, and I was much too tall for a girl. Here in Los Angeles, I was considered strangely exotic. In both places, I felt out of place. I was always on the fringes.
Thinking about my real family origins was sad and depressing, something I tried not to speculate about often. When I was little, I think the teachers liked me at the orphanage. Then I went through this fantastic growth spurt, starting at the age of about four. In a few years I was suddenly taller than even the teachers, and it was also quite evident that I was not entirely Chinese.
Then I wasn’t such a favored little girl and the teachers became harsh and impatient. I was looked upon with pity and suspicion. I felt the whispers, even though I didn’t hear them.
The speculation was that my mother didn’t want a baby by a man who was not Chinese. Maybe she was raped by a foreign soldier, or had an illicit affair. I’ll never know.
I was left on the steps of the orphanage when I was just a few days old; as though my mother had left a human deposit in the night, and then hurried away, never to return.
I might have been shunned by the teachers and other little children at the orphanage, but I received a great education. It was only when I moved to the U.S. that I found the English language I had learned at the orphanage, although grammatically correct, was hard for Westerners to understand. I still have trouble pronouncing some of the consonants, like the S’s and R’s, which are not native to the Chinese tongue.
As I walked into the kitchen to make my morning pot of green tea, I repeated name Andrew out loud, over and over, but that pesky D sound defeated me. Andrew was my client for tonight.
While I heated the water, I turned on my tape recorder, repeating the name several times. I rewound and listened. Inwardly I had said Andrew, but the recorded sound was more like An-rue.
My employer at the Cat Walk Modeling Agency, Madeline, had recommended a voice coach because I couldn’t be used for commercial ads that required the model to speak. I had been sent out once on a TV ad. When Madeline found me in tears because the producers laughed at my voice when I tried to speak some lines for the advertisement, she was so sorry and sympathetic.
Now I worked with that coach diligently and was getting much more fluent, but I feared I would be an old lady before I was proficient enough to be featured in a commercial TV ad as a voice model.
Madeline studied the list of models chosen for the yacht party Mr. Chan was arranging. She had tried to cover all the bases. Each of her models was beautiful, but as they say, variety is the spice of life.
She had a blond, Goldie; a brunette, Ebony. The red-head was Ruby. For ethnic representation she had chosen Raven, a beautiful black model, and Jade, a tall exotic-looking Eurasian.
Madeline decided this assignment would be perfect for her newest escorts, Goldie and Raven. It was easy work that didn’t require intimacy. It was better to go easy on the new girls. And since Ruby was pregnant, this would be stress-free, lucrative work for her.
They would all make a bundle on this job.
Besides running the modeling agency, booking her models with designers, clothing manufacturers, and photographers, for print and live productions, Madeline also had this secret side-line: providing models as call girls and escorts for extremely wealthy clients.
It was dangerous—and extremely profitable for both her and the specially chosen models who worked as escorts.
The danger was always palpable. Madeline tried to be careful, vetting each client thoroughly. She employed a detective agency for this work, making sure each new client was exactly who he represented himself to be. Financials were required from each prospective client. There was a hefty refundable fee, payable to the agency, just to be added to the list of clients. It was almost like they were members of an exclusive club.
She felt the greatest danger for her business wasn’t from the clients. They didn’t want their family, and especially their wives, to know they employed escorts. Neither did they want their friends or business acquaintances to know that they used call girls for sexual relief or as arm candy.
They understood their lives, families, future earnings, and reputations could be ruined if the information was revealed. It had happened to major politicians and business executives.
The clients just wanted to wow their friends with a beautiful companion, or to have safe sex with a lovely woman, so the clients of Madeline’s agency tended to be very careful about keeping their use of this special service private.
The greatest risk came from the women Madeline employed as escorts. Right now she believed that none of them wanted to be revealed as an escort, or call girl. On the other hand, the more lurid tabloids would jump at the chance to publish the story of a well-known modeling agency that covered for another business, in what they would consider sex trade.
The more sensationalistic tabloids would probably spend hundreds of thousands of dollars for this type of information, which could ruin Madeline’s legitimate and well respected modeling agency.
Madeline felt the main reason she hadn’t had any problems was because she cultivated a special relationship with each of the women she employed as escorts. They had loyalty and respect for her. She kept their number small, and only employed ten women for this work. She didn’t want to be greedy and lose control of this profitable scheme by overextending. That would only increase the danger of exposure.
Her models in this end of the business made a very substantial living. She split the hourly client fees. Sixty percent went to the escort, forty percent to the agency.
The monthly luncheon meetings Madeline insisted these models attend also produced a kind of camaraderie and loyalty. If the women knew and liked each other, they would be less likely to gossip about the Cat Walk Agency, knowing how badly they could hurt their friends.
Madeline picked up the phone and speed dialed Ebony. “Hi Sweetie, it’s Madeline. You remember Mr. Chan? He’s having a yacht party at the L.A. Harbor and wants you and four other models to circulate with his friends and have dinner on board. It will be about three hours of work. There will be about seventy guests in all. Friday night.”
“Sure, I can go,” Ebony said.
“Great. And I know it’s last minute, but Lionel wants a Train tonight. I’m scrambling to get all the women organized. Are you available?”
“Yes,” Ebony said. “Can I help? I could call a few of the women if you’d like.”
“I’ve got it covered so far. I’ll let you know. So far I’ve confirmed Ruby, Star, Sapphire, Jade and Goldie. So six women will be fine. He wants it after dark, at about eight tonight.”
Chapter 1 – Jade
I woke, disoriented once again. I’d been dreaming about the soaring peaked mountains, the green valleys, and cool cloudy weather of my home, China. In the dream I could even smell the sharp cold breezes.
Sighing, I threw off the covers and got up. It was still a ritual to bow in front of the Buddha statue on the dressing table, although I didn’t light the candles and pray, as I’d been taught to do every morning at the orphanage in China.
Behind the statue of the chubby, beneficent looking deity, I could see my reflection in the mirror. My long black hair was shiny, coarse, and totally straight. The other models where I worked said I was so lucky, but I was tired of seeing the same thing every morning.
I wished to be blond, or a red-head, just for a day, to see how it would feel, but those colors would look strange on my face, which is definitely Oriental, with slanted eyes almost covered by heavy epicanthic folds. Although I don’t know my entire parentage, I am definitely part Chinese.
In China, I didn’t look Oriental enough, and I was much too tall for a girl. Here in Los Angeles, I was considered strangely exotic. In both places, I felt out of place. I was always on the fringes.
Thinking about my real family origins was sad and depressing, something I tried not to speculate about often. When I was little, I think the teachers liked me at the orphanage. Then I went through this fantastic growth spurt, starting at the age of about four. In a few years I was suddenly taller than even the teachers, and it was also quite evident that I was not entirely Chinese.
Then I wasn’t such a favored little girl and the teachers became harsh and impatient. I was looked upon with pity and suspicion. I felt the whispers, even though I didn’t hear them.
The speculation was that my mother didn’t want a baby by a man who was not Chinese. Maybe she was raped by a foreign soldier, or had an illicit affair. I’ll never know.
I was left on the steps of the orphanage when I was just a few days old; as though my mother had left a human deposit in the night, and then hurried away, never to return.
I might have been shunned by the teachers and other little children at the orphanage, but I received a great education. It was only when I moved to the U.S. that I found the English language I had learned at the orphanage, although grammatically correct, was hard for Westerners to understand. I still have trouble pronouncing some of the consonants, like the S’s and R’s, which are not native to the Chinese tongue.
As I walked into the kitchen to make my morning pot of green tea, I repeated name Andrew out loud, over and over, but that pesky D sound defeated me. Andrew was my client for tonight.
While I heated the water, I turned on my tape recorder, repeating the name several times. I rewound and listened. Inwardly I had said Andrew, but the recorded sound was more like An-rue.
My employer at the Cat Walk Modeling Agency, Madeline, had recommended a voice coach because I couldn’t be used for commercial ads that required the model to speak. I had been sent out once on a TV ad. When Madeline found me in tears because the producers laughed at my voice when I tried to speak some lines for the advertisement, she was so sorry and sympathetic.
Now I worked with that coach diligently and was getting much more fluent, but I feared I would be an old lady before I was proficient enough to be featured in a commercial TV ad as a voice model.