Sex and Cigarettes
How May I Pleasure You Tonight?
For a girl with such a notorious job I sure had a nice apartment.
Persian rugs and steam showers.
I lay down on the sofa for a minute. The ceiling looked like it was going to collapse on me so I hid my eyes behind their lids and took a deep breath.I knew there was a call on the way, it was only a matter of seconds. Frankly, I spend 80% or my time laying down. So I decided to get up, make a martini and simultaneously browse for the sexy lingerie for tonight. Pink? Black? Red? It all depends on the client I get.
Sometimes I'm surprised by the number of men asking for me. I am a completely average-looking woman with hydrogen-fried hair and unusually long legs. I get on this highway to hell yet the years leave no tire marks on my face. I don't age graciously, I just don't age. But none of that's important since they all convince me that my sex appeal comes from the inside. I'll let them decide, I was never self-conscious enough to care.
The night was setting in and around 11 o'clock my telephone rang. I answered in a polite tone, even though Dave was pretty sick of how sketchy I sounded.
I've been working with Dave, my pimp, for about 4 years now. Considering the business he was in he was a pretty nice guy. I'd actually invite him over for a drink and an evening of high quality pornography. He was an all around kind of guy, a man who never seemed to sleep. He was the closest thing to a friend I had. Funny, isn't it? Well, not really, you all just watch too much TV.
Tonight's client was paying for a domina. These were the moments when I should have loved my job, but I didn't. Submissiveness of a sexual partner never turned me on. Or maybe I've just learnt to delete all the emotions and second-thoughts from my system. I don't mix business and pleasure, ever. It's just a crack of the whip anyway, nothing personal.
I wanted one more cigarette before leaving my pad. And as soon as the few drops of my feminine perfume swallowed the smoke and my heels clicked on the tiles synchronized with my heartbeat, the door slammed behind me - and I was out there by myself, yet again.
Hold me, Vegas.
Persian rugs and steam showers.
I lay down on the sofa for a minute. The ceiling looked like it was going to collapse on me so I hid my eyes behind their lids and took a deep breath.I knew there was a call on the way, it was only a matter of seconds. Frankly, I spend 80% or my time laying down. So I decided to get up, make a martini and simultaneously browse for the sexy lingerie for tonight. Pink? Black? Red? It all depends on the client I get.
Sometimes I'm surprised by the number of men asking for me. I am a completely average-looking woman with hydrogen-fried hair and unusually long legs. I get on this highway to hell yet the years leave no tire marks on my face. I don't age graciously, I just don't age. But none of that's important since they all convince me that my sex appeal comes from the inside. I'll let them decide, I was never self-conscious enough to care.
The night was setting in and around 11 o'clock my telephone rang. I answered in a polite tone, even though Dave was pretty sick of how sketchy I sounded.
I've been working with Dave, my pimp, for about 4 years now. Considering the business he was in he was a pretty nice guy. I'd actually invite him over for a drink and an evening of high quality pornography. He was an all around kind of guy, a man who never seemed to sleep. He was the closest thing to a friend I had. Funny, isn't it? Well, not really, you all just watch too much TV.
Tonight's client was paying for a domina. These were the moments when I should have loved my job, but I didn't. Submissiveness of a sexual partner never turned me on. Or maybe I've just learnt to delete all the emotions and second-thoughts from my system. I don't mix business and pleasure, ever. It's just a crack of the whip anyway, nothing personal.
I wanted one more cigarette before leaving my pad. And as soon as the few drops of my feminine perfume swallowed the smoke and my heels clicked on the tiles synchronized with my heartbeat, the door slammed behind me - and I was out there by myself, yet again.
Hold me, Vegas.