1. Old Money
Suzie stared at the newspaper in front of her...holy crap this was going to cause a real shit storm! And now it all made sense why she had so far had 3 escort bookings cancelled today.
’The Millionaire, The Prostitute & The Baby’’
Multi-Millionaire playboy and head of Markland Enterprises, Mr. Darryl Markland, 35 years old, was unavailable for comment last night when we revealed to him that he was about to become a father.
Our source revealed that Mr Markland enjoyed a brief connection with Brianna Jefferson, 28 years old, an Independent high society hooker of beautiful, but rather curvy proportions from Chelsea, London. Mrs Jefferson was a popular attraction with many clients, despite her size, and was often booked to escort middle/high society gentlemen to corporate events, social gatherings or as a dining companion, with sexual services offered.
Our source also revealed that Darryl Markland, who is well known for his appetite in women, availed himself of that pleasure more than once. It is also believed he paid for Mrs Jefferson to join him in Cannes at the world-famous Cannes Film Festival, where he discreetly arranged for her to stay in a secluded villa with fellow friend and also Independent high society hooker, Suzie Smythe-Bowles, daughter of well-known Property Magnate Brigadier Edward Smythe-Bowles.’
Suzie’s heart thumped painfully in her chest as the ramifications of the news expose hit her like a train in the full throes of derailment. ’Oh Lordy, her parents were going to kill her’.
They were so entrenched in maintaining their status and position in high society, she knew they would never forgive her for bringing shame to their name. Everyone thought that being born into a wealthy family was a walk in the park, full of spending obscene amounts of money, parties, holidays and fun, but it wasn't like that. From the day she was born she was groomed into the echelons of high society which was governed by so many 'rules' she had found it suffocating.
Most important of all was how others perceived you, and your placement in that society. You money had to be 'respectable', with the most coveted being inherited with a long wealthy history, and the second acceptable category being hard earned shrewd multi million business. Suzie's background fell into the first category, she came from a long line of Smythe-Bowles with their money tracing back to the 1600s.
Suzie sighed deeply, she had hated the whole fakeness of the circles she had been forced to grow up in, where women smiled sweetly at your face, then tore you to shreds with their expensively manicured nails and sour tongues as soon as you turned your back. Gossip was the No.1 pastime for bored rich housewives and their daughters, which admittedly as a teenager she had immersed herself into so she didn't appear the odd one out, but as she had matured, so too did her distaste for the whole 'class' thing.
Her father also had a huge impact on her childhood as she spent most of her youth desperately trying to gain his love and attention, but nothing was ever good enough. If she got an ‘A’, he would share his disappointment as it should have been an ‘A+’, in a nutshell that was her childhood, her father constantly disappointed and herself constantly seeking praise and approval. Attending Balls and events would often make her anxious in the lead up to them as her father would criticize her dress, makeup, hair or his favourite, ‘Stop slouching like Quasimodo for goodness sakes Susan, shoulders back and stand tall like a true Smythe-Bowles!
A large lump formed in her throat, threatening to obstruct her breath to the point of no return. She tried to swallow, to release her airway but the lump refused to budge. Her breathing became laboured and rattled through her throat as she struggled to drag oxygen into her lungs, her skin flushing red with the effort. Her eyes widened in fear as she realised she was having a full-on panic attack, her lungs tensing so tightly the pain was excruciating.
She stood and stretched her chest cavity, trying to ease the pain and expand her lungs enough to force air in, fighting to release her throat from its chokehold. Finally, just when she thought she was about to pass out, her thoughts becoming fuzzy around the edges as lack of oxygen started to affect her senses, her throat eased just enough for her to drag a deep breath, allowing oxygen to finally trickle through.
Suzie slumped back on the sofa, relieved that she could breathe again, her chest bruised from the effort. She had never experienced a panic attack before, and she would be happy to never have one again as it had been a really scary few minutes.
She knew it was likely her parents already knew about her career choice, probably from the media wolves at the door, and she felt sick to her stomach at the thought of facing her father, after all he was one of the reasons she had dropped into escorting in the first place. After graduating, she had done what so many other girls like her did and drifted along on Daddy’s allowance fund, shopping, meeting up with friends and being the typical high class young lady.
Gradually, the longer she dragged herself through those early young adult years, the more she felt empty and devoid of interest in their catty games. Her father had started making noises about finding her a suitable husband befitting of the Smythe-Bowles status, which sent a streak of fear running through to her bones at the thought of being ‘matched’ into a marriage of her father’s convenience rather than for love. People of lesser financial wealth might scoff and think surely arranged marriages were a thing of the past, but the older the money, the higher the risk your daughter (s) might sully the family name by finding an unworthy husband all in the name of love. Therefore, many wealthy families quietly manoeuvred their daughters into mutually beneficial relationships that suited the head of the household rather than the girl herself, with many of them ending up much like her mother, meek, obedient and attentive to their man, yet rolling their bitterness and insecurities outwards to those unlucky ladies within their sights.
She grimaced as she remembered her father’s first choice, a man she had grown up with as they travelled the same circles, a man she had always disliked. She wasn’t sure if it was the permanent arrogance on his face or the entitled attitude of his personality she had taken offence to most, but whatever, there was no way she was going to marry him. Of course, her father had listed all the benefits: old, rich family, related to the King, therefore ensconced into royal circles, but she didn’t care about any of those things, she wanted what had been missing her whole life… love.
In a rare fit of confidence, she had told her father as much too, and he had ranted at her that love wouldn’t pay the bills or protect the family name, he then dropped into a tirade about how disappointed he was in her, and he is the head of the household therefore she will do as she was told.
After that confrontation, because she had stood firm against marrying ‘Peter Ludlington’ he had stopped her allowance, so to avoid being forced into a loveless marriage she had secretly moved out of the family home leaving no forwarding address, told her mother she was starting a new job and wasn’t ready for marriage, then started her new life, job hunting in earnest before finally coming across an advert offering high class services, and realised it was the answer to her financial problems.
She picked up the newspaper and stared at the photo of her best friend Brianna, the one shining beacon in her life. Her father had always disapproved of Brianna as she did not have old wealth behind her. Her parents would be deemed as upper middle class so Brianna’s childhood crossed over with Suzie’s during pre-school and primary years, after which Suzie was sent away to a Ladies Boarding School, but they had remained in constant touch, meeting up as often as they could. Once she had graduated, she then had much more freedom and their friendship had solidified into a sisterly love for each other. Brianna is probably devastated, she mused, especially with all the hormones and emotions after giving birth. Her own emotions welled up inside her as she thought about both their situations and how life was about to change for both of them... little did Suzie know exactly how much!
Her phone interrupted her thoughts as it played the unknown caller melody. She stared at the screen trying to decide if she should answer, finally tapping the green circle in case it was a client.
“Hi, are you Suzie Smythe-Bowles?” asked the stranger.
Suddenly on alert Suzie hesitated before answering, “Who is this?” she queried.
“I am Stephen Cook from the Daily Guardian. Would you like to have the opportunity to give your side of the story about your career choice as a high-class Escort?” he replied.
Suzie was silent for a few seconds, then quietly tapped end call. Within moments the phone rang again, so she rejected the call and switched her phone off. And so it begins...she sighed, time to go home for the first time since she had defied her father, and face the music.
