My Escort Read Free Page B

around my neck, I braced myself for the cool breeze of the autumn night air. I greeted the new security man as I left and walked out in front of the large windows of the Candice empire. Immediately I could see my breath. The air was unusually icy for this early in autumn. I held my arm out to a passing taxi, which thankfully screeched to a halt. I collected my items and fitted them through the door before gratefully climbing into the warm taxi and shutting the door against the looming glass building in which I spent so many hours.
    I blinked tiredly at the Candice building as we pulled away and merged with the traffic. To others it probably looked just as formidable. It was stark and intimidating—perfect for a high-end fashion magazine. We were a successful magazine that catered to the interests of young to middle-aged women. We mostly focused on fashion and women’s issues, such as relationships and short stories. The pieces ranged from instructional to motivational. But to me the topics were mediocre in comparison to the pieces I wanted to write. It was the world I wanted to see and write about and only a few travel excerpts were ever written for our magazine. Usually they were included in the summer or just before, when people were booking their holidays. But even these pieces were not without bias. They were designed to fit around a certain fashion show or runway campaign. There would be a little more coverage if our sponsors were involved and we were invited to attend.
    I had now raised the topic numerous times in our regular meetings but Debra would quickly usher my voice and opinion away. My proposals apparently seemed in no way beneficial to the magazine. I highlighted the cultural experience we could offer our readers and even listed the potential sponsors at our disposal. A good working relationship with other industries would only strengthen the business, I argued. But it seemed whenever I mentioned or proposed something new, it was never conducive to the direction in which Debra wanted to take Candice .
    The taxi crawled behind some cars leading to a set of lights, and, glancing past my tired reflection, I saw a locked magazine stand on the sidewalk. Through the metal bars I could just make out our rival magazine glistening with gold text. It was the new issue of the monthly magazine. For many years I had had my eye on Be True magazine. The difference between their magazine and ours was far too obvious at times, not only in sales but in style and content as well. Currently they had the critically-acclaimed ballerina, Sarah Hine, on their cover. Our request for a photo-shoot with her was quickly denied. I now understood why.
    I had to disown my interest in their magazines a long time ago. Sometimes, in an act of petty revenge, I would buy a copy here and there to read my favorite article by the celebrated writer known as “Anonymous.” Her writing was magnificent, and she conveyed fantastic stories on any topic she covered, including travel. I envied Anonymous for having such powers of expression and for the freedom to write whatever it was that took her fancy. She wrote for the weekly-updated blog online as well as the monthly prints. It hadn’t yet been confirmed if in fact she was a woman, but I could only conclude that she was. Her writing had such a sensitive and rich tone, and she was appreciative of culture and nature at once, all whilst being a quiet authority on fashion and style. It was my goal to reach the same level of fame, not just for recognition, but for the freedom to express myself freely and pay my bills by it. I had a long way to go before being recognized in such a way.
    Watching over the night lights whilst being driven to my apartment, I observed the couples who walked together in the late night, arm in arm. Was it sad that I had not yet attempted to date any men since moving here? I had no reason to be repulsed by men. I had never been hurt. My small flings only lasted a short time