Community Service
Weird fiction piece by Clark Humphrey
12/16/94
Even a highly-paid escort can feel the need to give something back to her community. So Tiffany (not her real name) signed up to volunteer at a long-term care facility for the invalid. She soon found herself assigned to a male residential wing, which was fine with her. The fewer women around, the less she’d have to talk and the less she’d have to lie about what she did for a living that would allow her this much free time.
Besides, her professional skills soon proved invaluable in her assigned task of relieving the patients’ misery. The men ranged from young men who’d become paraplegics and quadraplegics in sports injuries, middle aged burn and accident victims, and elderly victims of assorted debilitating conditions. Tiffany fed them, showered them, held their hands, read them stories, bought them birthday presents, mended their clothes, and rooted with them on Super Bowl Sunday.
She became particularly fond of one young man, who’d snapped his spine in a snowboarding fall last December and would eventually be moved into a semi-independent-living home. He had limited movement in one arm, none in his other arm or his legs, and was expectedly despondent as hell. They were alone in his semi-private room one evening when she asked him to raise his head so she could change the pillows. He teasingly asked her if he granted her request, would she grant one of his. After ten minutes of teasing and exchanging cute remarks, she acquiesed and slowly raised her sweater. He gaped for a quarter minute, then uncontrollably began to sob. Tiffany raised his good arm up to her left breast. The only words he could get out between the sobs were about how he hadn’t seen a woman since two months before his fall.
In that moment, Tiffany knew her true calling in the world. Like a bakery that gave its surplus goods to a food bank, she would freely offer segments of the love she rented to others. The nursing staff found out soon enough, but it turned out they didn’t mind as long as the top management never found out. Indeed, the nurses were grateful for anyone or anything that raised the men’s low spirits.
Because her escort job required Tiffany to at least pretend to enjoy sex with men of all kinds and ages, she had few if any qualms about sharing herself with the older men. It even felt good to clutch their arthritic, grizzled hands to her breasts. She set limits far short of coitus, because she made sure not to let the men who had penile capability flaunt it before the men who didn’t. Those who were well enough could go down on her (or rather, she went up on them) or help her use a vibrator. She gave special strip shows to those who could only watch. She even gave special fantasy routines dressed as her friends’ favorite fantasy figures (even dressing up as specific members of the nursing staff).
After eight months of this, Tiffany had the opportunity to marry a wealthy client, leave the sex industry, and resume the pre-law studies she’d dropped out of two years before. Before she left, she arranged for two other employees of the escort service to take turns in service to the community.
