A/N: So this was originally part of my drabble collection, The Science of Lies, but you guys wanted to see more of Loki the prostitute... oh wait, I'm sorry, Loki the male escort, so here you go.

Jane Foster was not a desperate woman. She wasn't even a lonely one (okay, maybe a little bit sometimes). What she was was a single, working woman moving up the corporate ladder, reading scientific texts on the side and saving up for her annual week in the summer to Norway with her godfather. He'd been doing very well since retiring to the mountains, and Jane was eager to see him again.

She had a small pool of friends, if not very close ones. Most were left over from her high school days. At least one was a former intern she had never lost touch with. All of them had gone on to their own lives, with careers and families and all that jazz. Darcy had been the last of them, marrying the sweet and somewhat dorky Ian just three months ago. Already, they were expecting their first child from a rather wild honeymoon, as Darcy described it.

Jane was happy for her, she really was. She was happy for all her friends, but maybe there were times, when she had a slow day at work and nothing good was on TV, when thoughts of what it would be like to have a significant other again came to mind. So what if her first (and so far last) big attempt hadn't worked out? It wasn't her fault she and Don had grown apart. These things just happened sometimes. Fairy tales were for storybooks and real life did not come with happy endings. Not completely happy anyway.

But none of that was the reason she had found herself in this 'bad' part of town, driving along an empty road amid neon street signs and scantily clad woman in gaudy make-up, walking up and down the street turning tricks. It had absolutely nothing to do with the wedding announcement for Donald Blake and his beautiful fiancee, whatsherface (Jane had forgotten), complete with sickeningly sweet photograph of them hugging, with Don kissing the woman's cheek as she beamed. It was definitely not because of the necklace the woman wore, which looked rather suspiciously like the one Don was going to give Jane for Christmas before they broke up.

Jane would never admit to anything.

If anyone asked, she was just another lonely, pathetic old maid to be looking for a night of excitement. Nothing more, nothing less.

A few of the many female prostitutes eyed her car as she drove by, only to lose interest once they saw it was a woman behind the wheel. One of them kept watching, but now it was Jane who was uninterested in her. She kept driving.

On the curb near the end of the street, she considered turning back and trying again. Finding a male escort was proving harder than she thought. The only ones she'd seen so far were either taken, smelled like sweat, or were looking to be picked up by men only. It was a real shame that this wasn't working out for her. Her favorite old vibrator back home would just have to do…

"Pardon me, but are you lost?"

Jane had stopped the car for just a minute to check her GPS. The voice came from the street corner, where the man with a newspaper that covered his face folded it neatly under his arm, revealing himself to Jane. For a moment, she forgot to breathe. She hoped she didn't look as stupid as she felt, gaping like a fish in the face of the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen in her life. She used to think Don would always hold that title. Boy, had she not seen anything yet.

The man was tall and thin with angular features, and he wore a black suit and tie that was way too fancy to have been a prostitute's get-up. Most likely, he was another one looking for some action tonight. Too bad. Maybe he could at least point her in the right direction.

"I'm not lost," she said, steeling herself not to say anything too humiliating next. "I'm looking for someone to… you know, take home for the night. And I'm having some trouble finding what I'm looking for.

The man appeared thoughtful.

"I see. And what kind of woman are you interested in?"

Jane flushed red.

"I'm looking for a man actually." This was harder than she'd thought it would be. "Do you know where I can find one?"

"That depends," he said. "What is your main criteria?"

"My main… I don't know, I want him to smell good, I guess."

It was half a joke, but the man grinned and stepped a little closer to her car. Though he had yet to give Jane a dangerous vibe, she glanced at the open glove compartment anyway, making sure her trusty mace and the Taser she borrowed from Darcy were within reach.

"Tell me," the man said. "What do you smell?"

Despite the oddness of the question, there was a very noticeable scent in the air of cologne. It was hard to place, but not altogether unpleasant. She said as much, and the man nodded.

"Excellent. I charge a rate of 350 dollars per hour for the first five hours. Afterwards, it is 75 dollars for each additional hour. If you would like me for the entire night, the price would be-"

"Woah, woah, woah, hang on," Jane all but wrapped her hands around the man's neck to make him stop talking. "Are you telling me that you are a prostitute?"

"I prefer the term, 'escort', but yes, I am. Why, what did you think I was?"

'Some kind of rich corporate bigwig?' Jane thought. She had comparatively little to say, except that if she'd known the only decent pros- escort around would charge so much, she would've just invested in an HBO subscription.

"I only charge so much because I always make sure that my clients get their money's worth." He stepped off the curb and got into the car in the passenger seat, not bothering to ask permission first. "You will see for yourself soon enough."

Jane could not recall for the life of her where in the conversation she had agreed to hiring him for the night or even alluded to wanting to. Either this guy was the pushiest escort on the face of the earth or he was just that sure of himself and his bedroom prowess. That alone made her willing to take him on. Jane Foster was not a desperate woman, but she was one who loved a challenge.

"What if I'm into kinky stuff?" she asked him. She really wasn't, but he could find that out later. Maybe.

"That would depend on how you define 'kinky'," he answered, very much like someone on a job interview. "It's different for everyone, you see."

"What if I wanted you to tie me up and spank me?" There was about a negative twenty million percent chance of that ever happening, possibly more when he started to smile like that.

"I do have experience with that kind of play, yes."

Jane swallowed.

"Okay… what if I wanted to tie you up?"

"So long as you pay me and promise not to make any attempts on my life, my body is yours to do with as you please."

Something about how he said that went straight to Jane's stomach and crept lower.

"Uh huh… what if I wanted to use whips and chains?"

"Once again, it is your money and your choice. I have very little by way of limitations in the bedroom."

'How can he be so freaking calm about this?'

"Okay, what if… what if I don't want sex at all? What if all I want you to do is sit there and listen to me talk about my problems all night?"

He laughed, and not in a snide or a rude manner, but very much like he found her and everything she was saying truly adorable. That would be even worse as far as Jane was concerned. Nothing infuriated her more than being looked down on.

"My dear, if you think you would be the first person who needed a shoulder to cry on during the hardest of times, you would be sorely mistaken. Almost half of my workload is that alone."

"You're telling me you'll charge women hundreds of dollars just to sit and talk to you?"

"They're not all women, and I do give discounts."

Somewhere in the interim of their discussion, Jane had started the car again. They had driven out of the red light district back into respectable society, where someone in a Toyota just about crashed into Jane's car after running a red light.

"What if I changed my mind? I don't think I want to pay all that just to talk."

"Then we should do more than talk." He wore a lecherous grin that Jane shot down with a glare.

"I could stop at any time and kick you out of this car."

"No doubt, but you should know, I charge an entry fee of fifty dollars."

Jane stared at him. "An entry fee?"

"What I mean is that as soon as I get in your car, you owe me fifty dollars."

Jane's car came close to slamming into a tow truck, but she hit the brakes in time and tried to shut out his uncaring chuckle at her slip-up, as if it had just been her life in danger and not his as well. Never before had Jane met a more difficult man. Was this how all male prostitutes acted?

"I'll tell you what," the man said (Jane realized that she forgot to get his name). "Since you're a first time customer and clearly in a fragile state of being, I'll give you a fifty percent discount. Two hundred and fifty dollars, and you have me for the entire night, and I'll even throw in the morning after for nothing, should you like a quick early morning romp."

Jane refused to delegate that with a response. She'd just be feeding his ego.

"There are those who would pay out their ears for just an hour with me. You should consider yourself lucky I'm feeling generous tonight."

There was a police station up ahead. Maybe she could pretend to be an undercover cop engaging in entrapment to pick up street walkers.

"You won't get anywhere ignoring me."

"I'm just trying to figure out what divine entity up there hates me so much."

"I would think none since it's me you picked up instead of one of my co-workers."

Jane growled, and came very close to ripping the steering wheel out and beating him with it until he got the hell out of her car. She seemed to have reached some kind of breaking point. The combination of Don getting married and trying to find a cheap, angry lay and picking up the world's most pretentious manwhore had finally gotten to her. She laughed like a madwoman.

"Okay, you know what? Fine. I will take you up on your offer. I will pay you two hundred and fifty dollars out of my own pocket for the whole night. I will pay cash or write you a check or give you my blood or whatever you want."

"Cash is preferable."

"And let me tell you something, if this doesn't end up being the best night of my life, I'm not paying you a dime, and you can just go back to the mud hole from whence you came, get it? This had better be worth it!"

It was.