Hard Times

I shouldn't have taken the job. But she was beautiful and desperate. I could tell she was new to this kind of thing, hell, I was new. I hoped she was new. I've always been a big guy, not much of a fighter but more just viewed as intimidating. I know my way with weapons, got to the gym, and can protect myself. She needed a body guard. She was very honest with me. I knew I would have to sit in her living room or wait outside at a cheap motel while she fucked and sucked for cash. She had a day job. Made decent money. But had a kid back home who needed braces, school clothes, and field trips. I understood. Never talked about the boy until that night, with her.

I got fifty an hour. She usually took less than an hour with each and had eight to ten clients an evening. She paid me in cash and we went our separate ways. I could hear them. Whether outside the door, of course, better and more clearly when I was in her living room, the groans, the banging of the bed against the wall, the slaps and grunts. I hadn't fucked in a year. I thought about pulling it out and cumming on her floor every time I heard her moan. I didn't; I thought that would be unprofessional.

Room 9. Star Motel, 2 a.m. I heard an unusual, startling banging. Like a body against a wall. I sprung up, opened the door. Blood leaked from her mouth. She was naked and red across one cheek. His hand was slightly lowered from being up in the air and ready to strike. I slammed him against the adjacent wall. The impact of us left a partial dent and fissure in the drywall and a tilted painting over the bed. She sat and stared at us both. The guy paid her fee and three hundred more and left. I wasn't going to leave her alone.

"Wanna get cleaned up? Get some coffee?"

I stroked her hair as I asked. I want to show that I was sincere. Life is shit and we all need somebody sometimes. I felt my cock flutter. The want rushed to my brain and my cock. I blame the adrenalin. She gave me my cut.

"Good night."

I keep thinking about the boy. His mother. I didn't love her. She offered; I accepted. And when Aaron looked at his son, I knew he knew. The eyes. How could he not know? I used to see them often. I used three white balloons to make the boy a summer snow man. I drew the buttons, nose, and even the hat. Taped them together with the roll the boy's mother fetched for me. I watched her ass. I yearned for her pussy. Aaron called to ask me to stay the weekend. He decided to pick up some extra shifts. I got excited. I looked at her. I felt something and knew it was done.

She called at 4p.m. says meet at her place at six. I stopped thinking about the boy and his mother and thought of Alice. The noises with her men and her plump lips. Her white, almost perfect nakedness and the trickle of blood. I reached down beneath my covers and got the release I needed. The thought of her swallowing me down, not charging me, made it almost hurt when I closed my eyes and came.

The man she was meeting arrived at her place. I had gotten there a few minutes earlier and was sitting on her couch.

She explained, "Paul is my protection. He is as discreet as I am."

I nodded, kept sitting at the corner of her sofa. She asked me to wear tank top white t-shirts to show off my ink and arms. I spend a great deal of time in the gym. She understood how just a façade can deter violence. I flexed. He asked if she could blow him in front of me.

"Fifty more dollars to do it in front of Paul."

She didn't ask and I felt slightly uncomfortable. He fished in his pocket and uncrumpled a fifty. As I lifted, I kept thinking about her lips. I could have sworn she was turned on by my watching. I couldn't look away. I couldn't ignore the stirring in my pants. The need to bust out of them and into her. That sweet mouth. Those painted lips. I keep telling myself that she's trouble. No need to make this personal. I loved how she stroked his cock in between sucks. I was rock hard when she gobbled up his balls. He whimpered and she sucked there harder. Tongued at his rod again. She made loud slurping noise when she went all the way down and back up his meager piece. The dude blew early. I kept thinking smug thoughts like 'I know I could satisfy her.' 'I know I could last longer.' 'My cock is so much bigger!' I thought about kisses down her long neck and then up and onto that mouth. My lips and tongue exploring her nipples.

One night, we found ourselves in the same bar. She raised her glass and as I walked in the door. I was glad to go over. She bought me a whiskey. I felt obliged to sit and talk. I felt a different kind of pull to her off the clock. I watched as she spoke, carefully, not about business, says she's been thinking about how empty the world can be. Her mouth was like poetry as those fat, lovely lips parted and puckered with every other annunciation. I watched as she tossed a loose hair aside as she spoke. I saw men watch her. She was likely in her forties but had a round, kind face. Her body was her business so that was amazing. Firm natural tits and a belly that looked as if she had never had a baby.

She went to college. Got a day job. It was hard to make ends meet. My mind drifted away from her and to the boy's mother. Mexican. It doesn't matter. A black haired woman with a yellow haired boy. A good friend. She was good to me. Still could be on occasion when Aaron works nights and needs a friend to stay with the boy and his brown-skinned mother. I have declined since the snowman summer.

The boy's mother called to tell me that Aaron has started thinking that maybe something is up. He keeps looking at the boy, she says, with contempt and fear. She said he finally commented on the eyes. She says he hit the boy and shook him. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel. I'm thinking about Utah again.

Tonight 9 p.m. Two hour session. Her place. She answered the door in a small silk robe, her tits budding out, no bra and no shirt.

"I'm getting ready."

She had many candles lit, enough to make the place warmer. She sat next to me. Slid her finger across my forearm, tracing one of my tattoos. My cock sprung to attention. She leaned down and licked where her finger had touched. The client knocked. I wanted to tell her to ignore it. She winked at me, opened the door, and kissed her paying visitor. She later told me she wished she had never touched me.

I feel the same.