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Christina
It’s been two weeks.
My hidden cash is shrinking, and before long, it will be gone completely. I can’t bear the thought of being stuck in this house every weekend until I can’t afford it anymore, already having to take a seasonal cut in my hours at the hotel. Sliding further into a tighter budget would be stifling and soul crushing.
One night, I finally take out Thomas's business card. I flip the glossy rectangle through my fingers, readingoff:
Thomas B., 702-669-7399 // 702-NOW-SEXY
I mull over my options in my mind and decide to call him. Maybe he is right. Is it really possible to make $5,000 in a single weekend and have the necessary protection?
"What would it be like to work for you?" I ask as soon as Thomas picks up the phone. I don't have time for small talk and want to cut through thecrap.
"Hello doll," he replies. I can almost hear him smiling.
"You get an 80 percent cut," he says. "I keep 20 percent, and in exchange I'll curate the clientele. You don't have to worry about a thing, honey. You'll have more wealthy men than you'll know what to dowith."
I stay silent for a moment, contemplating what he’s just toldme.
He continues, "Also, those men you fuck—yeah, they'd never dare fuck with you. I can promise you won't end up a corpse in a suitcase. You won't be a sad statistic, doll. These men will treat you right, or they'll pay the consequences and everyone knows I'm not a pimp you want to fuck with. I'm not a person someone wants to screw over, I can promise youthat."
I don’t know what to think. Am I really going to do this? This all started by chance and now I feel like my life is spiraling in a direction that I can’t put the brakes on. I already fucked two men for money and I enjoyed it, though I definitely worry about the fact that the instant the sex felt even a little good that I couldn’t stop thinking about David.
This is easy money, but I never dreamed I would meet a pimp and make a career out of this. But having met Thomas during my time in Vegas is making me reconsider everything. With protection, could I do this once a month? And what would I do about that unavoidable tingle between my legs – the one that I felt every time I whore myself out – the one that makes me imagine it isn’t a cock of a random man that I’m pleasing – but a much more familiarone.
“I am doing this, yes, thank you,” I tell Thomas.
“Good, you won’t be disappointed. You can text me, anything you need. Let me know when I’ll see you again and don’t worry too much. Think about it all and get me a solid time,” Thomassays.
He’s not laying the sales pitch on thick, and that’s because he knew he had me from the moment I dialed his number. That’s fine. He says that he knows what he’s doing, and if he heard about my little amateur stint, well then he probably knows everything he says — and he can take mepro.
The weight of the world can be lifted from my shoulders for a moment. And if I enjoy the next client more because I'm thinking about David?
Well then so beit.
