A/U Finchel; Money Can't Buy Me Love

“My name is Rachel Berry. You gave me your card last night but I must inform you that I have more self decency and worth than to become a prostitute. I don’t judge you for being in that line of work because I’m sure the pay is rewarding and there’s a certain freedom in sleeping with rich men but that is not who I am and I definitely don’t have the body for that kind of thing since my boobs are non-existent and I tend to ramble on during sex when I’m nervous which doesn’t contribute to a very romantic atmosphere though it’s-“

“Hold up.” Rachel snapped her mouth shut, the tips of her ears pinking. “Firstly, shut the hell up because it’s not even ten and I’m still trying to adjust to the damn sunlight.” A lot of cursing in Spanish followed, and though Rachel didn’t understand it, she felt embarrassed at the no doubt vulgar words she was listening to. “You talk way too fast and way too much, so can it for now. I’m not a prostitute, I’m an escort.”

Rachel waited for the punch line, but when there was only silence, she laughed a little breathlessly. “Okay, but everyone knows what that means.”

“Clearly you don’t, Doc. Prostitutes put out, escorts don’t. Capeesh?”

“Excuse me?”

Santana sighed loudly. “You pay a prostitute for sex-“

“I know that, I’m not completely-“

“-but you pay an escort for friendship.”

“A friend, are you serious?”

“Stop being so narrow minded! God, look, here’s the deal. As an escort, you escort people to wherever they need to go. Sometimes you go as a date to a fancy work dinner, or sometimes you go as a plus one at some charity opening. Point is, the night doesn’t end in sex, it just ends.”

Rachel paused as she tapped her fingers against her chin. “So what you’re saying is that there is no sexual intercourse involved whatsoever?”

“Bingo.”