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“Yes,” I reply.
“Was it good?”
“Yes,” I say.
She thrusts harder.
“Oh, fuck. I’m coming,” I say.
Her thrusts are deeper now and hitting just the right spot. I can’t hold on any longer, so I scream out in pleasure. I flop onto the floor face first, and she slips out of me. She rolls me over and climbs on top of me, her hands at either side of my head. She’s breathing hard, but her eyes are soft.
“Was it because I wasn’t there?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say.
She nods.
“And it was good, I won’t lie to you, but no one has ever made me come how you do,” I say, wrapping my arms around her neck. “I mean that. I’ve spent the past two months thinking only about this.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” she says, leaning down and pressing into me, her face buried in my neck. “How did she touch you?” she asks softly.
“She didn’t,” I say, running my hand through her short, now sweaty hair. “I was behind her.”
“But she didn’t touch you?”
Now wasn’t really the time to tell her there were two women present, so I just nod.
“Is it unfair for me to say that I don’t like the idea of anyone else at these things touching you?” she asks.
I kiss her temple and smile. I shake my head.
“Get the champagne,” I say.
“The champagne?” she asks, lifting up.
“I want you to lick it off me,” I say.
She smirks again and stands, still wearing that strap-on and looking fucking sexy doing it.
“Where should I lick it from?” she asks, holding the bottle.
“Dealer’s choice,” I say, spreading my legs for her.
MONTH 4. PART 2. – What I Need
(POV Escort)
The past month has been a whirlwind of awfulness, mostly. I’m barely present at work, and I’m sure my boss has noticed – it’s only a matter of time before all the sick days I’ve had to take, to take care of her, come back to bite me in the ass. I can go on short-term leave, but that won’t pay me my entire paycheck, and we need the money. The tests, the hospital stays, and the treatments – only so much of it is covered by insurance. The rest is on me now that her savings are all gone, and there’s no one else. It makes me want to move back to the old country, as she calls it, where her parents were from. There’s universal healthcare there, so we wouldn’t be worried about all of this – just the part where she’s dying.
My friends didn’t go to the party last time, either. They stayed with me in solidarity, and when she came home, they were there with dinners and helped with some cleaning when they could. They really are the best, and they’ve been with me through so much. I wish I could get rid of my pride and let them pay for this, but I just can’t. I’m not there yet. I made good money for the first two events, and I used that to pay off some bills, but now there are more. It’s likely I’ll need to stay on at the monthly events for the rest of the year, maybe longer.
I decide that while everything around me is terrible right now, the one place that’s not is with her. So, while I probably should’ve stayed home, I waited for her to fall asleep, as I’ve done before, and then told the home nurse that I was going out and would be back late. She costs a fortune, but she helps when I’m not there, which is what allows me to still go to work and to come to these things and make extra money.
“Hi,” I say when I see her. “Leaving so soon?”
She turns around and sees me.
“No. I decided I didn’t want a drink, after all,” she says, referring to the bar.
