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I felt myself losing control in the room, and there was something very exciting about that. He was all the things that I liked, unfortunately. He looked like the actor Kevin Bacon, with rusty red hair and blue eyes. He was lean and bad looking. He could play that role in my movie anytime. But as usual he just wanted to ask me out. 'You wouldn't really want to go out with a working girl,' I said, 'think about it.' 'Wouldn't I?' He looked back, apparently sincerely. These types of guys, the shy dorky ones, were always good in bed. They didn't twitch their restless horny dicks around in the sheets. This one didn't respond to the massage, but I think he was worried about an exam. I said, 'I knew you'd be trouble for me when you walked in.' He liked that. This type always asked you to the movies. I said, 'Yeah, imagine me in my fishnets and eyeliner and you in your jeans and sweater. I'll balance the open box of oily popcorn in my crotch, and do you think they would recline the seat so that we could fuck during the show?' He said, 'You're joking!' They always feel like fools when they get rejected or you ask for the money next time. So what else is new? What do they think this is Rorke's Drift? This is my motel room. Once inside I become tense and fresh. I push him down into the pillow and touch his face in a way that makes him hard.
I smiled and felt numb. He was finally harmless. 'I want to see you in daylight,' he croaked, taking my hair into his hands and searching my face for any sign of reciprocation. My heartbeat was heavy inside my lingerie. I'm not one for hiding the fear in my gut, so I turned away and focused on the fifty condoms in the drawer. They were partially buried in sachets of gel, moisturiser and white towels. 'I'm a lady of the night,' I said. He tried to lead me into the bright bathroom of the motel room. Before he left he acted up like a forlorn pound dog, playing every trick in the sad book of love. He tried to preserve whatever he thought it was that we had started to develop. Even though we both knew that it was my job, to keep them coming back for more. My defences were down momentarily. He smiled with that boyish 'I'm sweet and sexy and attracted to you' look. Then he stood up and my eyes fluttered. Some excess fluff from the bedspread had caught in my lashes, and they quivered like wings independent of him. He was so proud of himself, standing up and drawing me close to his lean and masculine chest. 'You better get out of here now or the boss will be down,' I said.
When Sharlena rang a second time, I said he was showering. But he was still on the bed with his full erection, smiling like a morning. He hadn't come yet which might explain this incident, but I had. Yes, he was one of these guys whose primary motivation and pleasure was in satisfying a woman. But he didn't care whether he actually finished off or not. I'll be honest with you here, when I say that I can only take so many of these guys in one night. They tire me out, my cunt, my heart, this guy. I'd read about his type in The Sex Workers Handbook. He wanted free sex. The boss rang the phone for the second time. 'Get him out of here,' she said, 'or I'm coming down!' I smiled and turned to him, 'Go! You're a very naughty man, okay!' 'You won't ring me,' he said. The loss of him was like a puddle drying up after a storm. He left with his head hanging down, wondering if he should actually ring up and leave a message on my slut phone. The problem was that he would want the sex for free from now on. He had a way in through the sex worker. The usual story applied, in that he was lonely and didn't have a girlfriend. As for me, don't worry about it. It doesn't matter.
After the booking was over Sharlena looked at me, and I felt all happy and dirty like a street slut who gives it all away for nothing every weekend, hoping for true love in exchange. I was like a puppy who had got into the garbage and rolled in horse shit. 'Well,' I said, 'I liked him.' 'It happens,' she said, 'but you better get rid of that, honey. If you want to be a good hooker, you're not to see the clients outside working hours.' 'Has it happened to you?' I asked. 'Yes. He was my fifth man that night and we made love for two hours on an hour booking. He licked me from head to toe and held off coming. I gave myself a treat, that's all. It was Christmas Eve. He was gorgeous and I know where he works, and you know something, sweetheart? I said to him right there and then, I can never see you as a client again. Oh, he was persistent, asking me to date him and all the usual rigmarole. But it was useless. Never tell them what you do, or you'll never live it down, Nikita.' Later I announced to the other girls that I had failed at my job. 'I went seven minutes over with the red head.' I was disgusted with myself, and yet kind of proud. 'You're a miserable hussy, you are,' Sharlena said, smiling like a good mother. As if soon I'd be falling in love on every booking. |
