A good part of the four hours was spent on random conversation. I felt a lot more comfortable around Swash now. Maybe the slap released all the resentment I had bottled in. There was a visible bruise where I hit him and he said that we had to come up with a lie for him to tell boss tomorrow. We made several stupid suggestions and laughed freely. I also noticed more body contact. It seemed innocent enough, but I count more than five as no longer innocent. Stuff like gentle punches, hand resting on my thigh, feet somehow in contact. I felt he was doing it on purpose. After a lot of conversation, he asked:
"So are you seeing anyone?"
And there it was. I saw that coming.
"Kind of."
"Really. And is he okay with your...job?"
"We met because of the job."
"Doesn't he get jealous?"
This was getting a little uncomfortable.
"No. He knew what he was getting into." I was speaking as if Malone had ever actually asked me out. Sure, we had dinner one time and sex several times afterwards, but nothing was official. I felt like we were hanging somewhere between an actual couple and fuck buddies. Swash stared at me for a few seconds as if trying to process how such an arrangement would work before he decided to change topic.
"So, Cheryl is getting a divorce."
"Who's Cher- Oh. What about Bradley? He already has a complicated situation going on. What would it be now? Three-way custody split?"
"No way. I'm his biological parent and a lot more stable right now. He's coming to stay with me."
"So when is he coming?"
"Oh, I dunno. Sometime soon. Cher seems to be holding out until the divorce process is underway before she'll let me know anything."
He didn't seem very bothered by the whole situation. I knew what they said about children from divorced families and all the psychological drama that went into it. I frowned a little as Swash and he must have caught my expression.
"Don't look at me like that; I'm not the one breaking them up. I heard they've been arguing and it seemed like only a matter of time. I'm just happy to have my son again. They always used the 'stable family environment' card when we had custody proceedings to keep him away from me. Well, guess who's stable now?" He laughed a little and I joined him. The situation was a little ironic.
We had a little more banter before I felt it was time to go. Not that I wanted to, but Michael was a paying customer. But it felt good to have a normal conversation without the prospects of having to spread my legs or bend over afterwards. I got up to leave and Swash escorted me out of the condo block. I couldn't help but notice that the clothes I wore were actually well-fitting. I thought they belonged to Swash but they were definitely not his size.
"Swash, who owns these clothes?"
"You?" He raised an eyebrow as if I had just asked a stupid question.
"What do you mean?"
"I bought them for you."
I looked at him, stunned. Swash was grinning at my expression. I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Well, how much did they cost, I'd have to pay you-"
"Stop."
"What?"
"The whole having to repay me thing. It's like you're constantly keeping score. It's not everything that has to be repaid and reimbursed and refunded. I bought you those because I wanted to."
I fell silent. He was right, of course, but that didn't matter at the moment. I just hated the feeling of being indebted to someone. It made me feel like I was beneath them. And I didn't want to be beneath anyone. Unless they're paying. Swash continued to smile as he studied my face. I took in his handsome features and laughing moss-green eyes. His muscled torso played peek-a-boo as the wind blew his shirt around him. There was something about the orange slow of the sunset that made him look absolutely stunning. I swallowed and turned away because I realized I was starting to stare. He chuckled a little and I mumbled something about having to leave because I'd be late. I couldn't stand being in his presence any longer.
I wanted to fuck him so badly.
Swash hugged me as I said goodbye. I had to go home to prepare for Michael Clive. 21 year old virgin? This I had to see. I was always a bit excited about doing virgins. I always felt a little more eager to please, as I'll be their first sexual encounter which could set the tone for everyone else after. And I never wanted to be remembered as a shitty bang. It was a matter of personal pride. I wondered how he was still a virgin at 21. Was he fat? No, even chubbies got some action. Unless he was morbidly obese. Ugly? Low self esteem? Did he have weird fetishes that drove everyone away? I pondered my client idly as the cab took me home. Once I got to my apartment, I proceeded to get out of my clothes. I felt a little bad about how much I had neglected it in recent days. I laid out my clothes for the eveningm showered.and changed into my outfit for the night. A graphic tee and slim jeans. The point was to look sexy yet approachable. I knew how nervous a first time could be. Anything to help ease the tension.
Parkview was not my ideal destination for anything these days, especially in light of recent events. The circumstances surrounding Jason's hospitalization were a major shock, but that couldn't make me avoid the area all together. I guess I just had to watch my back a little more. I got to the texted destination and met what liked like ay college party. Loud contemporary music, overly excited guys, girls dressed provocatively who were not very likely to put out, people throwing up outside and passed out bodies sprawled in interesting and sometimes comical positions. I made my way into the venue, not entirely sure of whom I was supposed to be looking for. I did my best to avoid people carrying drinks and those who looked like they were on the edge of puking until a hand gripped my left shoulder roughly.
"Meat!"
I spun around to meet the gaze of a laughing drunk-looking guy. It wasn’t easy to make out his features in the annoying mood lighting, but I knew he was the one to follow when he said something about "virgin" and "shy". We got to a door and I was told something about 'rock his world' before I got pushed into a well lit room. A timid looking guy was sitting on the bed in the middle of the room and perked up to look at me. He was a little on the chubby side, had light brown hair and brown eyes, and actually looked boyishly handsome. I thought his size fit him. If he was any skinnier, he'd be left with an oversized head. I couldn't gauge his height, but I figured he was taller than me. I guessed he was the client.
"Michael?" I asked just to be sure.
He raised his eyebrows in recognition but sat silently. Awkward silence. I hated these bits.
"I don't bite," I said. "Unless you want me to."
He smiled a little but still looked distant and troubled. I crossed over to the bed and sat beside him.
"We don't have to do anything you don't want to."
"My friends are such assholes."
"What? Why?"
"They said they were bringing a girl."
A girl? If he was straight, then what the hell was I doing here? I frowned a little and he saw the look in my eyes then tried to explain.
"I haven't come out to anyone yet."
Oh. But somehow, his friends knew and had this thing set up. I now understood his position. If he had sex with me, he'd be indirectly outing himself. If he didn't, he'd remain a frustrated closeted gay virgin. He was right, his friends were assholes.
"So what happens now?"
He seemed to think it over for a few seconds and I sat there in the awkward silence. Suddenly, he grabbed the back of my neck and kissed me. Good choice Michael. Have sex and deal with the consequences later. You won't be any less gay if you pass me up. His kissing was a little clumsy as I had not been expecting it, but I tried to make it work. I smiled through the kissing. He had so much to learn, but he was making the effort. I kissed him back, teasing his lips and tongue. He moaned into my mouth. His hands snaked under my shirt as he suddenly got on top of me, holding me down as he kissed me. I could feel his hardness pushing against his jeans. He was insanely horny. He paused in the middle of our make-out session and growled in my ears.
"God, you're so hot."
I moaned into his ear to encourage him and he pushed his legs in between mine and started grinding against me as he kissed me. He obviously wanted to take charge. I ran my hands over his body, careful to avoid any places that may tip him over the edge. He began to fuss with my clothes and yanked my t-shirt off me. I had to help him with my jeans. He dug his hands into my boxers and wrapped his large hand around my cock. The roughness of it made me groan a little. He jerked it a few times and basically barked in my ears.
"Turn over."
I followed orders. He began to toy with my hole, slipping his wet finger in and out. Sometimes he hit my spot, other times he just tickled my hole. It was a little enjoyable and I moaned my appreciation. He grunted and grabbed a condom as he pulled off his jeans. And that's when I saw it.
Michael had the largest cock I had ever seen.
I began to sweat nervously. I was in too deep, bent over with my butt out. His member was at least 14 inches long, and it didn't even look fully hard. I doubted I could get my hand around its girth. I felt something touch my hole and I flinched in anticipation of the pain I thought would come. It was his finger again. This time he was lubing me up. I was a little thankful that he did not intend to go in dry, but waited through the process nervously. I wasn't sure I could take him in. Michael positioned himself behind me and the pressure built as he started to push in.
Pain.
Excruciating pain.
My fists clenched at the sheets as Michael pushed myself deeper into me. I felt like he was ripping me apart. I gritted my teeth as tears welled in my eyes. It hurt so much, I couldn't breathe properly. He began to move inside me, every thrust felt like a small explosion. I couldn't hold myself anymore and began to scream. He pushed his fingers into my mouth to silence me and I gagged at the intrusion. He continued to push as I wailed into his hand. Then he held my sides firmly and made a loud grunt as he climaxed and collapsed on my back. I felt his sweat dripping on me and he pulled out after a few seconds. I suddenly felt very empty and I was glad he didn't last very long. I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold on without passing out. He leaned against my ear and breathed.
"Thank you."
He rolled over and lay on the bed. I felt incredibly sore, and just lay still for a few minutes, trying not to cry even more. I suddenly felt the need to go home, like being in the room made everything more painful. Slowly, I inched off, careful to avoid making any sudden movements that could worsen the pain. I got dressed and tried to walk to the door. I couldn't walk straight, it hurt too much. So I had to feign a limp to avoid looking awkward. I left Michael sleeping naked under the covers and walked into the party. Thankfully, no one was watching as I left. I got to a drinking table and knocked back some vodka shots to try and numb the pain, but I only ended up limping and tipsy. I wasn't sure how I got out of the party or into a cab, but somehow, I found myself in front of my apartment.
I collapsed on my bed, still wearing my clothes and shoes, and buried my face in my pillow. Today was one of those days when I absolutely hated my job. I was in so much pain, my head was spinning from the vodka shots and I wanted to throw up. This actually felt worse than the gang rape incident, strange as that sounded. I felt my resolve to get out of the sex worker industry grow even stronger. A few more clients than this one and I wouldn't survive. Hello job market. I tried to turn over in bed and felt even more pain. This was going to be a long night.
Fuck.