Lan was 88 pounds and 4
"Why do you laugh?"
We negotiate price. She takes out a pencil and a notebook with a black marbled cover from the bedside table's drawer, and writes down the money, the date, and the time. I'm about twenty pages in, and there are twenty smeared lead lines per page. Double column.
When I come back to the bed, she asks me to go, and says she'll refund the balance.
I agree, and she does.
Later, I realized she'd taken my Swatch: A "Timeless Nice Popsies" cereal box parody in colorful red, blue, and yellow. She must have wanted it badly, to refund the second service.
And Saturday I go out to play. Payroll came through once again, deposited money in my account, and it's all there. No liens.
Now I can pay the rent and visit Jennifer. Or possibly, if I can find an actual female instead of a "100%" one, get myself pegged.
My second three-way. The madam had two whores unoccupied at the end of the night, one new, the other Jane. Already having had Jane, I pointed to the other, but the madam suggested that I take them both.
I thought it would be a two-for-one special—some massage parlors will use a "four hands" session for training, and pair an experienced masseuse with a novice—but if it was, the price was too high.
And, alas, I wasn't very imaginative. Jane from behind twirled and plucked at my nipples with wet fingers and tickled my balls when I started to come, doing the new whore doggy style: Her plump cheeks gave me good sound.
Was I the plump one's first client?
Questions for study and discussion
Why not, at the next opportunity:
I stopped by 8141 at the usual time, 4:30.
"Jennifer!" I said.
But from behind the curtain came another whore, not Jennifer.
"Jennifer!" I said.
And the mama-san brought Jennifer out to me: She was wearing a faded blue-checked shirt and jeans; her face was lined and worn in the light, not like I remember. I tugged on gently on her sleeve. She pushed me gently to the other whore, who took my hand. "It's OK," Jennifer said, and pushed me gently toward her.
And upstairs I went with her. "Jennifer, her breasts—" she said.
"Jennifer is my friend," she said. "Can you pay?"
She kneels to work in front of me, digs her finger into my anus up to the first knuckle while sucking me, but she hasn't induced me to let myself go, and so my ring is still tight: The pleasures of the second or third knuckle, of greasy, heating reciprocation aren't present.
The act registers as lewdness, rather than provoking as pleasure. The fact of service, rather than the experience of this service, becomes the gratification. "Oh, now she's doing this?" More like a spectacle in which I am a ticket holder, at which I assist, in the French sense.
Perhaps I am jaded; perhaps I experienced Jennifer as if she was from the country, fresh of the boat.
Deftly, she swings round to 69 position, still sucking and fingering me, and puts her lips to my face: The house seems to require shaved pussies. Can they imagine hairlessness is attractive? I don't want a child, that's not the attraction. Then again, the hairlessness shows that she's clean, without lesions. Brownish pink cushiony outer lips, light stubble: I press down on her cheeks and grind her pelvis against my chest to give her some proprioception.
During the table shower, she'd paid special attention to my crack and hole, and since the specialites de maison include rimming, I'd expected that: But not a little ripping sound, as of a foil package being opened.
She smacks her lips noisely, slurps, and chews on my cheeks: But all I feel is warmth, and flat pressure: No roughness of tongue at my anus: She's using a dental dam. The latex transmits pressure and heat, but no fluid or touch—for which, gladly, I'd trade the sound effects.
She lies back and opens her legs. Generally, I avoid missionary because I worry I'll fall out, and in any case doggy style is less strain on my back, but—What the heck? I'll never choose her again. So! Why not test myself, even if I will miss looking down at her dragon tattoo—
So crawling over her I point myself at her and she reaches up and puts me to her, then insert myself—vertically, down—and she sighs, once:
Cupping her skull in my hands for a point of leverage head raised as if dog paddling:
She contracts?! If I didn't know better, I'd swear she contracted. Again?
Raisng myself up on all fours I withdraw very slowly and carefully, so she could be sure the condom had not slipped off or spilled, then scunch down on the bed and lie between her open legs, my head between her breasts. Gabrielle: "I can feel your heart beat." She massages my neck with strong fingers
"What is your name?"
"My name is Lucy. Ask for me when Jennifer is not here."
I wonder if they talked about me after.
Questions for study and discussion
I woke. The blinds were gauzy. Lan always drew them, saying "Someone can: see." I lay on my back. She was curled on her side with her back to me. The covers were tangled down at our feet. It was August and already hot. I reached round and found her twat already sopping.
Today I must check my post office box. God knows what's built up there. Letters. Demands. Liens. Taxes on me. Taxes on my company.
The emotions of capitalism are greed and fear. I seem to be doing the fear part just fine.
All characters and situations fictional. Copyright (c) 2003-2007 by "John Psmyth."