Every time I'm down on them, my mind wanders.
Do I remind them of an old crush from social studies class? Do they fantasize that I'm an old girlfriend’s sister, or an old girlfriend’s mother, or even an old girlfriend's father? The list can go on: an old waitress from some diner off route 10; the girl from the shopping mall, the lady from the gas pump with the heels and red mustang, the married co-worker, the busty cashier graduating high school. I can be many women, but most likely clients are content with me being who I am: a grey-eyed blonde prostitute.
I wonder what parts of me bring them back 25 years. Is it the goose bumps on my breasts? Is it my waist, my shoulders, the vanilla scent between my thighs? Is it my pink, spidery hands? My tan is fading. They pay me nonetheless. They pay me well.
As I was wondering all this, the man cups his hands around my face and pulls me up to his mouth. He is breathing fast; all the pleasure and anxiety bellowing into his head -- his eyes filled with nothing but primal desire. It's a look I'm used to, that I get off on. I suppose that's why I've been doing this for three years. He whispers to me that I'm a goddess. He tells me he wants to stick it in me.
“That’s extra,” I say.
“How about just the tip.”
“Still counts.”
“Come on, baby. Just the tip”
“Extra,” I say.
He’s quiet for a bit and after a few seconds I ask him what he wants now and He says what the hell, if he’s going to spend the money then he’s going to stick it to me, and add in another girl. Go big, I guess. I go and find an available bunny girl.
My girl comes in and we kiss and touch each other for the guy. We tie him up, then he ties us up. Then he wants my partner. He wants me to watch. I get down off the bed. She’s tied down by all four limbs and her back is arched off the mattress. Her red cherry hair hangs off of the foot of the bed.
"Do the dance for him!" She says. She cocks her head around to look at me and forces her girlish laughter. "Show him that special move while he fucks me." Girlish laughter, small wink.
But I sit on the floor facing them. He enters and she makes noises and laughs and tells me to dance. Over her body, the man stares at me like I’m empty, and I wonder if I’m reminding him of a young neighbor across the street; if he looks for me every time he asks his wife to make love with the blinds open, and she says yeah, baby. She says, yeah I'll fuck you. If he looks at me hard enough, I can remind him of anything.
"Do the dance for him!" She says. She cocks her head around to look at me and forces her girlish laughter. "Show him that special move while he fucks me." Girlish laughter, small wink.
But I sit on the floor facing them. He enters and she makes noises and laughs and tells me to dance. Over her body, the man stares at me like I’m empty, and I wonder if I’m reminding him of a young neighbor across the street; if he looks for me every time he asks his wife to make love with the blinds open, and she says yeah, baby. She says, yeah I'll fuck you. If he looks at me hard enough, I can remind him of anything.
The man is lightheaded again and his face reminds me of a toilet bowl by the way his pepper hair wraps around from ear to ear; like the rim of the seat. He could be my father, in the way I could be his daughter, and he knows it. My father also looks at me like I’m empty. "Be back soon," my father said. He said, only once. Both men have kind eyes. Maybe I should have just let the customer have the tip. Maybe the only reason why he asked in the first place was because he trusted me enough to give him what a man deserves. What he as a husband, father, lover deserves. But trust is like money, honey. You spend it, you lend it, and you can sometimes get robbed and in this business, I can't afford to do any of that.
My other bunny girl sighs out another laugh and moan. She's close to climax. I can see it in the tenseness of her muscles, in the slight vulnerability that her closed eyes bring. We all love sex here at the ranch. It would be a dead business if we didn't. We have to be able to let it all go here. We have to be open, assertive and comfortable in order for the customer to be. We are paid to knock down their walls. We are paid to fuck, suck, squeeze, pinch, blow, and whip those walls and inhibitions away. The orgasm is not sacred here. Nothing is. The man’s body swells and he becomes heavy headed. I sit naked and erect on my knees on the shag carpet. His mouth hangs open and his eyes squint shut. Concentrate my dear old man. Time is money. Sex is money. My body is money. Worth nothing more, and nothing less.
My other bunny girl sighs out another laugh and moan. She's close to climax. I can see it in the tenseness of her muscles, in the slight vulnerability that her closed eyes bring. We all love sex here at the ranch. It would be a dead business if we didn't. We have to be able to let it all go here. We have to be open, assertive and comfortable in order for the customer to be. We are paid to knock down their walls. We are paid to fuck, suck, squeeze, pinch, blow, and whip those walls and inhibitions away. The orgasm is not sacred here. Nothing is. The man’s body swells and he becomes heavy headed. I sit naked and erect on my knees on the shag carpet. His mouth hangs open and his eyes squint shut. Concentrate my dear old man. Time is money. Sex is money. My body is money. Worth nothing more, and nothing less.
He wipes the sweat from his forehead and laughs, “That’s the quickest I ever came.”
The redhead says yeah, baby and I continue to stare at him and he continues to stare at me as the redhead laughs and sighs and praises him. We stare at each other like we are reminders of each other. Like he knows me from somewhere all too familiar. Like I'm the little girl his wife gave birth to. Like I'm the little girl he gave allowances to. Like I'm the little girl he that he left behind 25 years ago. I escort him out of the "Blooming Lotus" room, smiling.
"Come back soon," I say.
"Come back soon," I say.
