operate - peaches
i just want to thank you guys for supporting this story! i was worried about the sequel crashing and burning to flames but you guys have been so nice for commenting and voting. thank you, it really, sincerely means the world to me!
l.p
"it's so grand to hear from you, james."
i hear the velvety texture of richard's voice on the other line and i already feel defeated, knowing that this is exactly what the man expected of me, james, (the name i had given him). i'm devastated, not by the insults that danielle had hurled at me, but the fact that i was no nearer to the day i finally meet my little girl. instead, i was further from what i wanted and it fucking destroyed me. on the bus trailing back to the city, i had bought a pack of cigarettes and smoked through half of them at the bus stop beside a petulant old woman. i spent the day being scolded and drenched with sweat, wondering if my self esteem will ever be restored. i felt like i couldn't even go back to zayn's apartment and give him the news — i was far too humiliated.
"are you free, richard?" i asked, my voice far too raspy for my nineteen years of age. now, as i stand in the middle of the city, near the marriott, i wanted this to be clear. i know what i'm doing and i know how this works -- don't forget that i'm from the outskirts of this filthy city and knew these streets from the back of my hand. i'm aware of what these immoral things entail, because this is what i come from. i spend so much time running from it -- but being a degenerate is what i'm most familiar with.
"in what terms are you speaking of?" he piqued and i could hear him sitting in a bar, the type where rich people sit and drink during the day with the loud rumble of prestigious laughter.
"why else would i call you, richard? i'm whoring myself out, take it or leave it." i muttered into my phone, a lady in a beige coat gaping at me as she overhears when she walks past.
heaving a deep breath in, i realize how much i fucked up for buying a pack of cigarettes when i know that due to the state i'm in, the box is nearly empty. digging my hands into my pocket, i feel guilt sparking through me for lighting up, continuing anyway with the knowledge of what zayn had went through all because of these pointless little cancer sticks. a part of me needed it, my addictions had been scraped off of my skin like an unwanted blemish, but at this moment, i couldn't stop myself -- it as if i was dying of thirst in the middle of desert and i needed something to soothe my cravings.
"oh goodie, i was feeling rather bored. you know where to find me." richard said as i ambled my way towards the marriott through a couple of crowded blocks, where i can already picture the man to be seated at a bar located on the bottom floor. taxi cabs breeze past like rapids of crashing water, the sounds of the city's atmosphere clouding my mind.
"so, tell me what you want and i'll do it. i'm only discussing money on the phone and that's it." i declare and i hear the man chuckle, knowing that it wasn't going to be that easy. i wasn't about to make quick money just from some lonely, rich bastard's dick in my mouth. he wanted entertainment and i was going to be that for him.
"you know, there's something so thrilling about you, james. you're all rough and brash, probably scare me shitless if you approached me late at night. a quick mouth that gets you in trouble and intrigues me all at once. but yet, you're endearing. vulnerable... vaguely sweet when you forget to guard yourself. you have the whole world fawning over you, yet you're clueless." he pauses, "i looked you up, you know, and what an interesting background you have. i've got people who do this shit for me, but you were fairly simple to find. i know your name isn't james, but i'm happy to pretend, darling." i could practically hear his cunning smirk which only makes me fume -- and it doesn't help that today's events have infuriated me to my bitter end. i'm close to hanging up and getting drunk somewhere, but the thought of my little girl stops me.
"look, i don't need your fucking little analyzation over me. i'm aware of what i am and what you are as well. we both know what we want, so, what do you want me to do? suck your dick? fake an orgasm? listen to you whine about your repressed homosexual feelings?" i said and he didn't even stop to think before replying.
"have a drink with me, i'll buy you whatever you want and pay you... well, your price. let's say, $700 to sit and amuse me for an hour? tell me all about your slummed up life." richard's voice was always edging on laughing to complete seriousness, but i could care less. with his labels of me, i should feel offended but my self esteem had already been obliterated beyond relief.
"$800." i project and he's so quick to respond i barely have time to keep up. another one hundred dollars means nothing to him and everything to me.
"i'll pay you $1,000 if you fondle my balls with your feet under the table." he says like the presumptuous twat he is and i scoff.
"you're fucking foul." i argue and i hear a small grunt of laughter on his end. as if he just knows i'll do anything for a buck.
"joke. i'm joking." he retorts and i sigh, entering the marriott and hoping my manager on the phone at the front desk doesn't recognize me as a housekeeper. sundays were my day off but i didn't want to be caught doing this.
"you're not, though." i say under my breath and he doesn't skip a beat.
"you decide, james."
i end the phone call once i step foot into the opulent, smokey restaurant downstairs of the marriott that i guessed richard was getting day-drunk in. broadening my shoulders, i try to sneak past a pretty colleague sitting at the front desk, taking seating arrangements. she's blonde and i've sat with her during lunch breaks a couple of times, where we've shared miserable conversation about being penniless. she recognizes me immediately and her face is traced with confusion, as if the thought of me even dining here is unbelievable. i nod to her with a silent plead, praying that she lets me through and she gestures her head and lets me go.
roaming through the lounge, beautiful people wrapped up in expensive clothing are drinking and eating like birds. i find richard almost immediately, because oddly enough, the man is ruggedly handsome and has the whole room fawning over him from afar. he is sipping his rum with lazy blue eyes, scanning the people around him with a soft, mocking grin on his lips. he finds me as i deflate nervously, my shoulders hunching over with my crippling insecurity. with his dirty blonde hair falling from it's professional style, he raises a brow at me and a points a long finger curled around his glass at me -- as if it was a loaded gun. i squeeze my eyes shut and try to breathe, walking over to him as he stands from his booth.
"christ, you just seem to get better looking everyday." richard starts with and i suck on my gums, not really knowing what to say and what to feel. i felt far from his genuine compliments. yet, i find him weirdly comforting and it's all wrong because i'm charmed by the older man without wanting to be. his eyes fleet over me and i'm breathing in his royal scent, as he motions, "c'mere james, sit with me,"
"look, that's not my name -- just call me liam, alright? it's fucking weird." i mutter, sliding into the plush seat across from him and he snickers, carelessly sitting with his legs apart and his broad shoulders resting against the leather. i swallow thickly, mortified that i'm doing this all out of pure desperation.
"rough day, love?" he asks half-heartedly and i hate that he has some sort resemblance to zayn's charisma. he's almost just like him, staring at me like a new, shiny toy like zayn had when we first met. it somehow makes me feel a little less worse about myself, like i could mean something to someone.
"you could say that." i loosen up and he nods, like he secretly knows more than he lets on. i place my arms on the table and he shrugs off his navy blazer, raising a hand to grab the attention of a waiter.
"what do you drink?" he questions and i play with my fingers, trying to find the courage to become promiscuous and rob this man of all his worth. but it's not like that at all. he's completely impalpable and i've never felt younger and more naive. he's completely in control.
"coke." i murmur and he's endeared with whatever comes out of my mouth. i don't know how it could be possible because i'm either whispering shyly or ferociously spitting out whatever i have on my mind without any filter. i subtly hide my face with my hand as a young waiter comes rushing towards us, not wanting to risk someone recognizing me -- doing this. but i'm fucking shady and i think everyone knows it.
"alright, vodka and coke it is. keep the rum coming on my card, cheers." he says and i'm quick to stop him, impulsively, fucking stupidly.
"no, just coke. i'm not... drinking." i say to richard, not feeling comfortable drinking alcohol around him or in general. i needed to be present in this situation. i lacked any power but i had to fight for it in some sense. the waiter stalks away and i sigh, still not able to hold eye contact with richard, yet.
"oh, my apologies. is it a rehab thing--" he says so casually and my heart drops with shock and embarrassment. my temper gets the better of me and i'm questioning him, wondering what else he knows about me.
"how the fuck do you— we're not talking about that. i know it was plastered everywhere a year ago, but that is long forgotten and so am i. its something i want to forget." i state, my eyes locking onto his playful eyes. he gazes at my neck and the waves of my hair, like he's wondering what he wants to wreck first. the older man doesn't hide his desire for me and i'm far too tempted by it. licking his lips, he naturally falls back into conversation that i'm trying to catch up in,
"calm down, brown eyes. i've been there. done it all, in fact, done it at least five times, i'm not judging. my alcohol problem was a serious issue -- god, glad that's over," he smirks and ironically, downs his whole drink in one swift swing. he doesn't even waiver and his eyes are completely clear and self-aware, as if it hadn't even touched the sides.
"you must have the tolerance of a slovakian and the wallet of a dirty wall-streeter." i find myself laughing quietly at his ease with humor.
"yeah, well, it loosens me up. drink around breakfast, keeps me calm at work. if i was sober, i think i would of committed a mass homicide by now. i hate the world when i don't have a drink in my hand... it's a relief, y'know? -- like many other things." he eyed me knowingly and i wanted the topic to stay on him.
"what do you do?"
"boring old people shit -- tell me about you. you're... nineteen? working as a housekeeper and hooking an old fuck like me. you know, the most interesting people have the most fucked up lives, remember that, liam."
"you don't even know half of it." i roll my eyes, biting my bottom lip and swinging my arm around the soft leather of the booth i sat in. this lavish lifestyle is something i cling to because i knew it isn't going to last long. it's not even five minutes in and the man is wanton, ready to leave the table and fill me with confidence i didn't have.
"god, you're bloody sexy. i don't think you even know it." the man is bold and cuts right to the chase which makes me smile and blush all at once. but that's only between him and i.
"you want me to suck your dick, don't you?" i play and he quirks his brow, taking a gulp of his rum as if he's trying to suppress something inside of him.
"i don't want anything from you, but i'm not saying i wouldn't mind." he says and i roll my eyes,
"would the price change?" i ask without hesitation.
"obviously, darling. haven't you done this before?" the man smiles with wild infatuation. there's something that older men love about a younger lover with a sharp tongue.
"prostitution? no, i'll have to add that to my long list of fuck-ups." i retort and he bursts with charming laughter, drinking whatever he had left.
despite my lack of experience, everything seems to happen quite quickly. we don't kiss or show much warmth, he just takes me back to his hotel room and i'm quick to fall onto my knees, swallowing my pride as he throws his blazer across the room. he just grins and taps my cheek, shaking his head.
"get up, love. i want you, you don't want me. you're my treat and i decide what i want to do to you — that's how this works." he grins and i'm completely astounded, wondering why on earth this completely charming and handsome man is even paying me. i haven't given him a single thing.
i'm told to sit on the edge of the bed and suddenly i'm watching this strong, formidable man stare at me from his knees. i lean on my elbows digging into the mattress, my brows furrowed with perplexity as he finds complete delight in trailing his hands across my body. i'm sucking in a shuttering breath from my starvation of affection, his long fingers roaming near my dick through my pants. suddenly he asks me, like a fucking gentleman and i couldn't get any more confused. "are you comfortable with this, liam?"
"fuck -- yeah, yeah." i'm shuddering and he traces my torso and the scrawniness of it, as if it were a sculpture made out of glass. i cant help but to ask him, "am i special, or do you treat all your whores like this?"
"i think you might be special." he smirks vaguely and licks his full lips, undoing my jeans with steady allure. i'm already hard and i don't even know who i am anymore -- because i'm enjoying this far too much for my liking. with expertise, he pushes my shirt above my navel and pulls my boxers away and i feel completely nude. yet it feels good, as if i had escaped my body and i'm this new pleasure-seeking person full of adventurous lust. it feels like an outlet, something i craved for far too long. it was like an escape from my thoughts when the man wraps his calloused hand around my cock and reels noises out of me i didn't know i could make.
"fucking hell," i'm moaning loud and unashamedly when he takes my length into his mouth without much warning. my eyes seem to find home at the back of my skull as pleasure embraces me from a complete stranger and in the darkness i can see cash behind my eye lids. like a flower blooming under sunlight, i'm coming undone to the thought of undeserved dollar bills landing in my lap.
it's as if i'm getting off on it, the fact that i'm going to make a shit load of money from something so wrong.