by Abby Angel
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 the crap.
"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 do with."
I stay silent for a moment, contemplating what he’s just told me.
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 you that."
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 familiar one.
“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,” Thomas says.
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 me pro.
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 be it.
Christina
I let Thomas know I’d be coming and now that the day I chose has finally arrived, I drive through the desert with my windows down, the wind twisting like fingers in my hair, and the cacti standing and waving like cowboys. I think I could get used to this—the shifting landscape, the solitary drive, and the anticipatory unknown.
Day turns into night, and when I finally see the Vegas strip in the distance, it resembles a jewel-encrusted necklace spread out across the horizon and holding secrets too good to keep. I feel ready for the work ahead.
Thomas is waiting for me in a location directly off of the Vegas Strip. The place, Frankie's Tiki Room, is housed in an unassuming white building. It looks like any other building until you walk inside. The décor resembles something from the South Seas, but with more kitsch—hand-carved furniture and excessive amounts of bamboo. Polynesian pinup posters adorn the walls, while taxidermied puffer fish and brightly colored antique glass fishing floats hang from the ceiling. Exotica music and cigarette smoke mingle, further rounding out the atmosphere.
"Well, ain't you a sight," Thomas says, sitting in a dim booth resembling a grass hut. "Sit down doll, let's talk business."
I sit, sliding into the vinyl booth and ordered a drink, the Wild Watusi.
"Nice choice," Thomas remarks. "I'm drinking the Bearded Clam because even if I don’t like the real thing, I don’t mind getting tipsy to an alcoholic one.” He chuckles. Then he hands me an envelope.
"What's this?" I ask.
"An advance," Thomas replies.
I open the envelope, thumbing through the bills as I count it all out. It is $1,000. I wonder if this is a standard practice, to receive an advance from a pimp.
"Why are you giving this to me?" I ask.
"Because you are going to take on some special jobs," he replies.
"What does that mean?" I ask, my mind racing with thoughts.
"Well doll," Thomas explains, "These men won't be touching you…but they get to finish on you. You’re going to get them off with your mouth, without ever touching them”
"What the fuck are you talking about?” I’m confused right now. What the hell kind of creeps does he plan to set me up with?
"Relax," he says. "These men are clean, not at all creeps, I promise. They will pay a whole hell of a lot more for something even more exclusive.”
I light a cigarette to calm my frazzled nerves. Holding the smoldering tip between my red fingernails, I say, "I can't do it. I…don’t know how to be a whore that doesn’t let a man fuck me!”
Thomas laughs. “Don’t have so little faith in yourself. I mean, I hear the way you move, you’ve got this. Between those lips and those hips, just let a man blow it on your tits and you’ll be set. This is a fantastic opportunity.”
"An opportunity?" I interrupt. “I must be out of my mind—I can't believe I thought I could do this."
"Like I said, this is an opportunity," Thomas continues. "If you do this, I assure you that you will be bringing in $1,500 an hour—not even a neurosurgeon makes that kind of damn money!"
I remain silent. The dollar amount is outrageous. And Thomas is right—no one made that kind of money in an hour—in a day maybe, but an hour? My thoughts are momentarily broken when a waitress brings Thomas's drink to the table. She lights it on fire, giving him a seductive hula dance before blowing it out.
“Gotta love this place," he grins. "Now pull your head out of your ass and listen to me. $1,500 an hour is serious business. You're going to be making more money than you know what to do with, doll. You can handle this. I know an enterprising woman such as yourself can handle a new challenge, am I right?”
I inhale, taking another second to ask myself…can I do this?
I answer the only way I know how. I give him a lascivious smile.
“Yeah,” I reply huskily. “I’m in.”
Christina
I knock on the door of my first client, a paunchy man named Carl who is supposedly a successful orthodontist in Ohio. As soon as I step inside, I realize that he booked himself a penthouse suite. The room offers sweeping views of Las Vegas Blvd., and in the center of the room sits a pool table.
Carl seems to be trying too hard to set the mood for me, and has lit what seemed like a dozen candles all over the room. Internally, I chuckle and think, You have to be fucking kidding me.
But I keep my demeanor professional and immediately ask him to put the money on the table. He walks over to the pool table and spreads out each of the hundreds in an overly emphatic gesture.
I walk closer to him. ”Let's get to work, shall we?" I say with a playful smile.
He slowly unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants. Carl doesn’t touch me, and I know I better step up my game to be sure he’s getting his money's worth.
I honestly expect to panic a little but I don’t. I reach for my clothes, pulling them off just as slowly. I push the straps of my dress down, letting my tits spill out, and then I pull myself up onto the pool table, spreading my legs.
“Do you like watching me play with my tits?” I ask Carl while I grip them, bringing my tongue to swirl along each nipple.
Carl’s cock is in his hand and he’s already jerking quickly.
“My pussy is so wet, Carl,” I tell him, saying his name in the most erotic way I can manage. I wonder if this isn’t totally emasculating for him, but at the same time, I feel powerful knowing how much he’s paying me to touch myself and make sure he gets to come on me from whatever I
do during our time.
I drop one of my hands down, trailing down and lifting up my dress. I yank down my panties and throw them at Carl — he can touch the panties and feel how wet I got thinking about doing something so wildly immoral as this for money — and then I spread my legs, wide. My time at the Spearmint Rhino as a stripper means that I’m capable of doing quite the spread.
I watch Carl’s eyes as he looks at my bare pussy.
“Stroke your cock and think about how my pussy aches, Carl,” I instruct. I peel my dress off and rub my inner thighs, tease all around my pussy.
Then I turn around and give him full view of my ass and pussy, my tits in view too with the way I’m arching right now. I squeeze my own ass and trail my fingers down to my wet slit, sliding my fingers through to lube them up.
I slide a finger inside my pussy and I start to moan. I’m really banging it out for the cheap seats, but I also am getting a huge rush from the fact that I can hear him grunting already.
“Fuck, yes, fuck that perfect pussy,” he begs me, his voice going hoarse.
I slide my now soaked finger out of my pussy and slide it in my ass, then bring the fingers of my other hand to my pussy. I moan ridiculously. “Do you like seeing me stuffed, Carl? Do you want to come all over me while I’m being such a bad girl?”
I am about to continue, but then I hear Carl gasping like he’s going to suffocate, and a hot stream of cum lands on my ass, dripping down my fingers and my cheeks.
Carl has good aim, I’ll give him that.
“Mmm, thank you, Carl,” I say, pulling my fingers out of my holes and scooping it up and licking them. Thomas says his clients are clean, and I hope so because I taste the saltiness of cum on my fingers — cum that isn’t mine.
“Fuck, that was perfect,” Carl says.
I turned around and when I’m about to get off the table, Carl hands me several tissues and my clothes. Well, that was thoughtful.
“Have a good night,” I tell him, nodding and taking the tissues and clothes. I don’t know what else to say to him, and I kind of want to get out of here as soon as possible. Sure, Carl did nothing so terrible, and this wasn’t so hard, and the pay is amazing…but once again, my body burns, unsatisfied and all I can think about is David. I am going to text him, of all the things that I don’t do, as soon as I get back to my hotel room.
“You too!” Carl says.
I can’t believe how much money this guy paid for this, but he seems to be thrilled, so I’m definitely not sticking around to get him to fill out a comment card.
I wipe myself off, leaving the tissues on the pool table so that I don’t have to needlessly investigate Carl’s room for a trash can, then I pull back on my panties and my dress, then I head out the door, glad the job is over and seemingly successful and I go.
I pick up my phone to text David. I know I never text…and I know that I have a slew of texts from him, but I don’t let anything in my mind dissuade me from texting him.
Thinking about you.
Okay, so not the filthiest text ever. But I had to start somewhere. The message quickly change from ‘Delivered’ to ‘Read’ and I expect to see the three dots on the phone that mean that’s he’s writing a response. Instead, my phone starts ringing. I deeply regret texting him before I got back to my room.
“You do know how to text,” David says. There’s something sensual in his voice that stops my heart for a moment.
“I do,” I say stupidly.
“I think I’d rather hear you,” David says.
My insides melt at those words. I don’t know why I'm so hung up on him, or how he brightens my whole day if I so much as think about him, but I just know that I never want this feeling to go away.
Christina
Just the sound of David’s voice makes me so wet that I actually shiver. I get into an Uber to take me back to the hotel that I’m staying at tonight, and I listen to David’s words.
“I’ve been thinking about you, too. You rushed off the phone with me after being so happy to spend time with me,” David says.
There’s something about the words he’s saying—they sound playful, but he’s anything but. My whole body stands at attention.
I don’t say anything. Partially because David has me stunned, and partially because despite the fact that I’m a prostitute now, I kinda don’t want to scare my Uber driver with whatever filthy thing would come from my lips right now.
“Your hotel room synced on the family calendar, I thought I’d surprise you and show up…you heading back to your room?” David asks.
Holy fuck.
“Yes!” I exclaim.
“Good. Tell me your room number and I’ll be up there shortly to fuck you,” David says.
My heart thunders so loudly that all I hear is the blood rushing to my ears for a moment.
When I get to the lobby of the hotel, I see him right away. David and I manage to stand still the whole time before we get to the room, even keeping our composure in the elevator.
It is a hell of a thing—I came here to earn a pile of money in Vegas, and the old family calendar that ironically my cheating husband insisted on linking to our hotel and flight booking accounts outed me. When we get inside the room I yank off my dress quickly and David’s mouth crashes against mine.
David kisses me so intensely it feels like he can’t live without my lips on his. And...well, while that's both flattering and totally how I feel when his lips are on me, I'm also reminded of how I want to tease him. He just slides me over his cock and thinks because I acted like I couldn't live without that cock before that I can't now? God, my pussy is aching for him and I'm soaking wet. But, like, I'm hoping to be able to tease him, okay? I'll be strong, just to give him as good as he gives. Then, I'm riding that cock like I'm getting a prize. Umm, because I am. I'm going to bounce on my stepson’s big cock and show him how much I like it—and I’m not rushing off the phone or out of the hotel room. I am so glad he’s here and I’m not taking a moment of him for granted. I crave him more than anything. I won’t even have to text with him to come tonight. He’s really here!
David’s hands close over my ass and he pulls me back over his cock.
I wiggle away and sit above it. It gives him a moment to tear off his own clothes, and I can’t help but stare at how fucking perfect his body is. I suck in my lower lip and steady myself, because I can't tease him much longer without exploding myself. "I need you to fuck me, and I don't think that has anything to do with me wanting to bolt, just so we’re clear.” Fuck, the head of his cock is so close to my pussy, I can almost feel the heat from it. Like, maybe I am feeling it, or maybe I'm imagining it.
"Oh yeah?" David reaches one hand behind his back and tugs off his shirt.
"Yeah. I was just tired that night. I need you to fuck me. You came here to fuck me.” I look at his rock hard abs, and I turn my head for a second to hide my inhale at the sight of his toned body and what it is doing to me and my willpower. I start to undo my bra but he grabs it and tears it off. It's like he is Kryptonite to clothes. One touch, and they're gone.
"Well, I'm not going to fuck you," David says in a slow, tantalizing voice.
My jaw drops. I can't help it. I'm trying to tease him, and he's going to turn me down? My pride is nearly wounded. But there's a glint in his eyes that tells me to shut my mouth, hold my tongue for now.
"Yet," David says with a wicked grin.
Oh, thank fucking god. "You're fucking with me instead?" I let out a nervous giggle. David isn't like other guys, not like my beta male clients for example…he's so much fucking more, and I start to wonder if I'm in over my head. If I am, well, that's fine by me. I’d be out of my mind to pass up fucking him, however he wants to tease me. The teasing experiment will have to get a fail for today, but I'm certain that given another chance I can try again and succeed. Right now, I'm putty in his hands.
"I'm going to eat your pussy first." I gasp and like some kind of fool, almost fall over.
Maybe I'd rather melt in his mouth.
He brings my soaking wet pussy to his face and I can feel his breath on me. He sits me on the edge of the bed and takes his teeth to my thong, pulling it down.
"Look, Christina, no hands," he says, laughing and captures my wrists. He flips me around, bends me over, and dips his tongue all the way through my slick folds. A massive moan pulls from my lips and shivers challenge my spine.
"Keep that ass up. I'm not fucking you until you come all over my face. Twice."
I gulp. Goddamn. That's how to eat pussy; men of the world take note. Of course, David is the only man I have any interest in fucking, I realize. What I do with my clients isn’t even really fucking anymore, and I crave David so much I can barely breathe.
But before I can parse any further thoughts, his hand is applying pressure to my abdomen and his thumb is on my clit. My knees are shaky already, and his tongue could be writing the Constitution down there and I'm using every drop of energy that I have to keep myself from losing my grip. I could come now, almost. "I'm so fucking close," I gasp.
"You are, but I’m not taking you anywhere just yet," David says.
I don't know why, but his words set something off in me. Then he pushes several fingers into my pussy and I'm too busy screaming to respond or question what he said. "Fuck!" I groan as he pumps impossibly fast in and out of my pussy while his tongue takes over my clit. His whole mouth sucks in my clit. "Please, please," I start begging.
What? I'm begging to come. The way he fucks me, I will gladly beg to come now and again as long as he doesn't stop.
"Fuck yeah, Christina, you come all over my face for round one, because round two isn't going to be so quick," David says. His words vibrate on my pussy and then his mouth is back on me.
My eyes roll back in my head. I scream out, my pussy squeezing his fingers for dear life and my whole body rattled with a very powerful orgasm.
While I'm still shaking, David sweeps my legs up. The moment his face leaves my pussy I ache for him and the pressure and shocking sensation of his mouth leaving makes me whimper. He lays me down on my back and I feel the warmth of his breath on my pussy. His tongue flicks my clit while he looks in my eyes.
