Fraternity Madam: Book 1

By Alexia Pearl

Ali Calloway never expected to run an escort service. In fact, she’s just about the last person you’d expect—straight A student, dutiful daughter, virgin. But when her twin brother becomes ill and is disowned by their father, she needs to find a way to make money, and fast. She realizes that the frat boys next door would be all too willing to fool around for cash and she senses an opportunity that’s too good to pass up.

Before long business is booming, but as she learns, running an escort service comes with plenty of problems…not the least of which is her hunky next-door neighbor, Jack.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Radish
• Release date: Nov 10, 2021
• ISBN: 9781956969030

Alexia Pearl

Alexia Pearl grew up reading anything she could get her hands on, including too much V.C. Andrews at probably too young an age. Now she writes when she’s not reading.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The headlines scream, VIRGIN COED CAUGHT RUNNING FRAT BOY ESCORT SERVICE!

The virgin is me, Ali Calloway, age 20, hymen shamefully still intact. My picture is front and center. Not my glamorous Instagram profile pic. No, this would be of the classic celebrity mug shot type that would make the Pope look guilty—shitty lighting, yesterday’s smeared makeup, and morning Medusa hair.

The courtroom is hot and stuffy. Gray peeling paint on the walls and hard seats that hurt your ass and creak loudly if you so much as shift slightly.

And what’s with the handcuffs? Are they really necessary? It’s not like I killed anyone and ate their face. Whoever thought cuffs were a turn-on never spent any serious time in them. Fuck Ana and Christian.

All eyes are on me—the lawyers, reporters, spectators. The heat of their glaring disapproval burns holes in my skin.

The foreman announces in a loud, overly dramatic voice (I’m thinking she’s probably an actor-wannabe), We find the defendant…

At least, that's how I picture it all going down—if I’m caught. Which I have no intention of allowing to happen. Of course, every prison is filled with those who were sure they’d never be caught.

But I’m getting way ahead of myself. I should probably start from the beginning…

* * *

Ali Calloway wasn’t sure what was in the plastic cup she threw back—it certainly wasn’t beer. It didn’t matter—whatever the source, the alcohol was doing its job. Maybe a little too well, she thought.

She was trying to keep her shit together, but it’s hard to keep shit together when you’re about to fulfill your freshman fantasy. A triple-X fantasy starring the virginal Ali and the hot sophomore Jack. And like a runaway train, there was no stopping it. Ali Calloway was going to do it, tonight, with the only guy she ever pictured while masturbating.

What’s your name again? he breathed in her ear, just loud enough to overcome the pulsing music.

As Ali responded, Jack kissed her again, drowning out her voice. His tongue brushed her lips with just the right amount of authority. She gasped in response and wondered how he knew to do that. His hands encircled her waist and he drew her body against him. Just long enough for her to feel how hard he was. Jesus, she panicked, there’s no way that’s gonna fit inside me! But then again, thanks to her twin brother Evan, she’d seen her share of porn. Big things fit in all kinds of places.

Jack gently turned her around and steered her through the chaotic frat house, past the gyrating bodies of the other partiers, his body swaying seductively to the music. He stopped Ali at a doorway. Without skipping a beat, he opened the door, and they slipped inside.

Their lips pressed together. Her hands took on a life of their own, clawing at his clothes as he removed her dress and bra. Her exposed breasts pressed against his firm chest. Ali’s skin was on fire.

Jack lifted her in his muscular arms and lowered her onto a table. He pulled a condom from his pocket, and as he tore the wrapper with his teeth, Ali thought, this is it.

Good girls wait until marriage.

Ali froze.

Her father’s voice echoed in her head, as if he was in the room watching.

Good girls wait until marriage. Fuck!

What’s wrong? Jack asked, the half-torn wrapper still in his teeth.

I can’t do this, she said, pushing him away.

Of course you can.

No, I really can’t, she heard herself say as she scrambled to put her clothes back on.

Don’t be such a tease, he pleaded, shaking the limp condom in his hand.

I’m not a tease, she said as she slipped her dress back on, I’m a virgin.

Jack stepped back in disbelief. Damn, he said, that’s even worse.

* * *

Yeah, I know. Pretty shitty. And here I am, one year later. With a capital V branded on my forehead.

But this time will be different. I’ve got a new apartment, and my sophomore year is destined to be great.

* * *

Ali tried her best not to drop the stack of books as she walked from the college bookstore to her apartment. Her arms were shaking, and she made a mental note to become less allergic to the gym.

Her building in sight, she quickened her pace. The door of the house next door opened. She stopped. Jack, the would-be virgin slayer, stepped out into the sunshine, bare-chested and ready for a run.

How is this possible? she wondered. Ever since the party hook-up that never hooked anything, Ali had managed to avoid Jack even though it put a suffocating grip on her freshman social life. And now here he was, in the flesh, living next door!

Jack stopped to stretch. Ali seized the moment and moved quickly towards her building, keeping her face awkwardly hidden behind her books. It was the perfect plan… until she tripped on a crack in the pavement and several books tumbled to the ground by Jack’s feet.

Mortified, she froze like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming 18-wheeler.

You dropped these.

Ali lowered the stack just enough to see. There he is, rimmed by golden sunlight, looking like a fucking Greek god. Life is so unfair, she thought as he placed the books on the stack.

She forced a smile and started to say Thank you, Jack but the words died in her throat when she saw the blank look on his face.

He doesn’t recognize me! Not a clue. No flirty smile. Nothing. WTF!

As the impact of it roiled her stomach, Jack turned away and began his run.

Surely this would be the low point of her sophomore year, she thought as she trudged towards her apartment with the sound of Jack’s feet fading in the distance.

Ali balanced the books in one trembling arm by placing her chin on the top and fumbled with her apartment door keys before swinging the door open. Almost immediately, she tripped over something and the books fell.

No longer blinded by the books, she was confronted by a blockade of suitcases.

Hey, Sis. Welcome home.

Evan was splayed on her couch.

Evan?

Ali was annoyed, yet secretly thrilled. After this morning’s humiliating encounter with Jack, her brother’s presence was bound to cheer her up.

Yeah, so how’d you like to be my landlord? he asked, slurping from a brightly colored boba tea.

For how long? she responded, dreading the answer.

He shrugged, I don’t know. Like forever?

Ali started collecting her books from the floor.

Dad saw a pic of me at the pride parade.

Ali stopped. Shit, was all she could manage.

So he did what any loving father does when he realizes his son is gay—he kicked me out and cut off all financial support, including health insurance. Said I’m no longer part of his family.

She looked at him, suddenly realizing that he was thinner than when she last saw him. His clothes seemed slightly too big. You need that insurance to pay for chemo, she croaked.

Guess he’d rather have a dead son than a gay one, he joked, but the forced bravado in his voice didn’t match the pain in his eyes.

* * *

Ali took a deep breath. She had never challenged her father before. Never even raised her voice. But this was different.

You wanted to see me? her father said, flashing an annoyed glance over his reading glasses. Senator Gerald Calloway was not a tall man, nor a big one. But he had a commanding voice and a self-confidence that made him imposing nonetheless.

How can you do this to your son?

Evan’s a homosexual. At least he thinks he is. And a man in my position can’t allow that.

"But he’ll die. He’ll die if you do this."

Not if he changes his behavior.

Are you kidding me? What century are you living in? It’s not a choice—

Don’t lecture me! And don’t help him. This is my plan. Either he’ll realize the error of his deviant ways or he won’t.

Ali was stunned. Could this be the same man who once read bedtime stories to them?

I’ve got a subcommittee meeting to attend, and you have college that I’m paying for, so— he said as he closed a briefcase on his desk.

I’ll go to the press. I’ll tell them what you’ve done. How would killing your own son look for your upcoming campaign on family values?

Senator Calloway tucked his glasses away and rose from his desk. His eyebrows lowered and crinkles appeared around his eyes. Ali felt like she was six and had to fight the urge to pee.

Don’t threaten me, Ali, he said with a menacing whisper, or I’ll crush you both. He grabbed his briefcase and headed towards his office door.

But how is Evan supposed to pay for his treatment? she pleaded.

He stopped at the door, turned back and smiled. He can prostitute himself. Isn’t that what ‘gay’ people do?

The air in Ali’s lungs seemed to disappear.

I told you, always have a plan. This is the plan, he said as he slammed the door behind him.

* * *

Prostitution? Now THAT’S a plan.

Chapter 2

Maybe I was blinded by Pretty Woman. Hooker nabs a hot millionaire, they fall madly in love. She’s set for life. Hmm… Fuck the love—I only need his money.

* * *

Ali was convinced the stilettos were causing nerve damage. She felt like one of Cinderella’s bitchy stepsisters squeezed into too-small shoes. She hoped she’d score her millionaire long before her toes looked like a grotesque Jell-O mold.

Trang eyed her over the top of his sour apple martini. You sure about this? he asked.

I already told you. She shifted uncomfortably in the hotel bar seat, inconspicuously trying to pull the creeping thigh-high stockings up towards the hem of her black slip dress.

Yeah, he replied, but you don’t look it.

She glared at him.

Despite his annoying questioning, Ali was glad Trang agreed to be her wingman. He wasn’t exactly the muscle-bound bodyguard she would have preferred for her debut as a prostitute, but he was a close friend and much more experienced at picking up men than she.

He studied her in the intimate light of the bar. Crimson lips—check. Smoky eyeshadow—check. Well done.

She knew she was supposed to look fab but the truth was she was too nervous to feel anything but scared. She took a sip from her martini. It was nasty, but Trang insisted it suggested a certain amount of class.

Don’t fret, he insisted.

I’m not fretting, she lied. I am fucking freaking out.

I see one-percenters hitting on women here all the time, he assured her.

Ali looked around. There were plenty of rich-looking men, all of them older. Much older. She hadn’t thought about that. What if it’s like kissing my dad?!? Her brain vomited at the thought.

We can leave if you don’t think you can pull this off.

I have to pull this off. Evan will die.

Maybe we can think of something else? A food truck, he offered but her withering look cut him short. He turned his attention back to his drink.

Ali touched him on the shoulder. Whatever happens tonight, promise me again you’ll never tell Evan.

My lips are sealed. He watched a tall, distinguished man seat himself at the bar across from them. Target spotted, three o’clock.

Ali glanced over. At least he didn’t look anything like her dad.

Good luck, he winked. And remember, I’m right here.

Ali forced a smile and attempted to casually saunter over to the empty barstool beside the man. He looked up from a menu as she sat, gave her a benevolent smile and returned to the menu.

She had rehearsed an opening line a hundred times in her head. Her mind went blank.

Not everything’s on the menu, she improvised in her best husky voice. WTF? I sound like a frog-waitress.

The man glanced at her. Excuse me? he said.

She doubled down. There are hot specials not on the menu, she croaked, then inhaled deeply, trying to inflate her small breasts.

He smiled. Really?

OMG! He’s responding! I’m in.

He turned to a high-haired woman seated beside him. She was texting, pecking away with one finger like an aging hen, and looked up to glare at Ali suspiciously.

Hey, hon. This young woman says there are spicy specials.

Great, she said testily, returning to her slow-mo texting while her husband eagerly waved to gain the bartender’s attention.

Enjoy, Ali meekly offered as she stood up. She caught Trang’s eye—he gestured.

Standing at the end of the bar was a black-suited younger man, his eyes dark in that sexy, bad-boy kind of way. She smiled broadly and brought the martini glass to her crimson lips. The rim collided painfully with her teeth, and gin splashed down her dress. Classy, she thought. Super classy. Bad-boy seemed to agree—he grimaced in disgust.

She blotted the gin with a napkin and spotted another potential. Age-wise he was somewhere between the older married dude and the younger bad-boy. She made her move… and stumbled as her stiletto caught on a barstool. Trang grabbed her just as she was about to face plant. The man shook his head dismissively and turned away.

Chill, Trang whispered.

That’s when she noticed him: thick wavy hair, a fitted suit, sitting alone and smiling. She imagined his name was something erotic, like Luca or Jared, as she made a beeline towards him.

Hey babe, you looking for a good time? she asked breathily, leaning in what she hoped was a seductive pose against the bar.

Luca burst out laughing. Ali’s self-esteem tumbled into the abyss and she slumped, defeated.

No, it’s not you honey. I’m just more interested in your friend over there.

Ali followed his gaze to Trang, who smiled enticingly from behind his raised martini. Seriously? He’s supposed to be my wingman!

Help yourself, she replied. As she scurried to the exit, she mouthed good luck to Trang.

Alone in the luxury hotel’s bathroom stall, tears turned her face into a messy raccoon as a cold fear began to consume her.

How am I ever going to save Evan?

* * *

Ali had managed to un-raccoon her face before she left the hotel. By the time she made it back to her neighborhood, her feet had become so sore she had walked the last couple blocks shoeless.

Hey, a familiar voice said. Ali turned to face Jack. You look incredible.

Yeah, but I feel like shit, she thought as she fixed her eyes upon his smiling face.

You live here? he asked.

Ali nodded, too caught up in his enticing eyes to speak.

Wow. How is it we’ve never met? We’re neighbors. My friends call me Jack. But you can call me whatever you’d like, babe.

Ali’s expression hardened. How about Jack-ass? We met yesterday. And last year.

She turned and walked away, trying not to grimace as her stockings shredded against the sidewalk. And your pick-up lines suck, she added. Bewildered, Jack watched in silence as she hobbled to her door.

* * *

Don’t block the screen, Evan pleaded as Ali entered the apartment and headed straight for the couch. She collapsed beside him. Glancing at her face, Evan immediately paused God of War.

What’s wrong? he asked. And why are you dressed like—

A hooker?

I was gonna say Bella Thorne, but yeah.

Ali didn’t want to cry, but there was no holding back. The tears flowed like a monsoon.

What the hell, Ali. Are you okay?

I so failed you, she said between sobs.

Evan knew his twin well enough not to respond. The pained look was all he needed to know that patience was the best he could offer.

I… I was a hooker. Or I tried to be, but I couldn’t hook anything. She broke into another round of sobs.

Evan was incredulous. Did somebody slip you a molly?

I was trying to score money for you.

"By being a prostitute?!?"

Ali nodded.

Evan burst out laughing. "You—you, virgin wonder—were going to sell yourself for me?"

Ali gave a brief recap, intentionally leaving out her run-in with their father.

Evan was never one to reveal his inner emotions; they were too raw. He tried his best to keep his voice steady as he said softly, You seriously did that for me? but she knew how deeply it affected him.

Yeah, was all she said as they embraced in a tight hug. We’re each other’s comfort food, she thought.

"Evan, I don’t know what else to do. We need money."

Scratch prostitution off your resume, he joked.

"It's not fucking funny! This is serious, Evan. You are going to fucking die without your treatments." She broke down once again.

You think I don’t know that? he said, unsuccessfully quashing the shakiness in his voice. He shook his head slightly, trying to regain his buoyancy. You’re right. But Al, that was—obviously—a terrible plan. We can do better, we can do this. Let’s think—what are we good at?

Nothing. I seem to blow at everything.

That’s not the Ali I know. What about the job you had at camp? You were the youngest coordinator they ever had.

How’s being able to organize a bunch of middle-schoolers going to help us get rich? she asked.

You did more than that— he started to say.

The door burst open, and Trang stumbled in. His hair was uncharacteristically disheveled. Howdy, he giggled, showering them with hundred-dollar bills.

What the hell? said Evan, rising from the couch.

Trang gyrated as he spoke. I got laid, I got paid and—he pointed to Ali—I got her to thank for it.

Are you high? Ali asked, wiping away the remaining tears.

On life, Trang said, jumping on the couch. That guy at the bar you hooked me up with?

I didn’t hook you up.

"He paid me one thousand dollars."

To sleep with you? asked Evan skeptically.

Sleep? If you really want to know, he—

We don't want to know! shouted Ali and Evan together.

He wants to get together next time he’s in town.

I don’t suppose he has a friend for me? Ali asked, slumping back down on the couch.

Hardly. But he has tons of moneyed buds who’ll pay to play with hot young guys like me. Unfortunately, there’s only so much Trang to go around.

Seems to me you’re in need of a pimp, said Evan as he scooped up the cash.

No. Pimps are abusive parasites, said Ali, lighting up like a firefly as a crazy idea took hold. She paused. What Trang needs is a manager.

Evan, the last hundred in his hand, locked eyes with Ali. Someone who’s good at organizing? Ali smiled.

So you’re saying I do need a pimp? asked Trang, confused.

Not a pimp, said Evan, putting his arm around Ali. Trang, meet your madam.

Chapter 3

I was delusional. Overseeing an escort service is hard AF. Ever try running an illegal business while attending college full time? Yeah. As I said, hard AF.

* * *

Ali, we’re still waiting, said an irritated Trang. He was standing impatiently by the door with two of his frat bros, Adam and Juan, fine-tuning his hair in the hallway mirror. Adam coolly chewed gum while Juan paced nervously. All three wore tight jeans, which Ali insisted on because they showed off their assets. First impressions count.

Ali held up her hand, signaling Trang to hold on, as she listened to the burner flip-phone pressed to her ear. Yes, she responded into the phone, and your reference? ... Ok. Thank you. She terminated the call and entered some info onto her iPad.

Alright, guys, listen up, she announced. First off, Adam, did you remember the non-fuzzy handcuffs this time? Adam dangled a pair of steel cuffs and blew a bubble. Great. Oh, and lose the blue tie. Steve dislikes blue.

Ali turned to Juan, who stopped pacing. When Michael lets you in, don’t beat around the bush. Say ‘hello,’ then force him to go down on you.

And Trang, she said, referencing her iPad. Pop a Viagra before you show up at Hotel Ember. Enrique likes to see in advance exactly what he’s paying for, and he may want to go a few rounds. Trang gave her a thumbs up and went back to grooming his hair.

Ali’s phone buzzed, and she read the message. Any chance one of you is bi? she asked. I’ve got a potential female client, and it would be great to expand our business.

"I might be able to drive