Page 8
By: Toffer Wayne
Stacy- “Hi Babe, good to see you, ...” As I entered her room I resisted our normal hug, and embrace. Her room was messier than normal - clothes on the floor, a bowl of weed on the table- and to top it off there was a distinctive smell of sex in the room, that I had never noticed before. “What’s wrong hun? You seem off tonight?”.
Layne- “I don’t think I want to do this tonight ... I saw your last John leave before me, which has turned me off.”
Stacy- “Come on babe, grow up a little!! You know I see other guys, that’s the deal here. Did you think we were exclusive or something?”, and with that she preceded to get undressed in front of me, exposing her breasts, and trying to embrace me. “Just put the money on the table, and come to bed.”
Layne- So there I stood, with a beautiful girl in my arms, begging me to go to bed. But on the other-hand I couldn’t ignore the situation before me. Here I was in a cheap hotel, with $200 in my pocket, to pay for sex with a woman who 10 minutes before fucked a fat slob I wouldn’t even dare to shake hands with.
Stacy- Her phone continued to buzz on the end-table, her BF or pimp probably was keeping tabs on her. These men are the ones who book the rooms for the girls, and set their routines between hotels. If a John is taking too long to finish or time-wasting as they put it, he’ll message her while she fucks him to encourage her to get on with it. “Hun gotta make you mind, I am busy soon.”
Layne- What should I have done? I wish I had your resolve - your inner voice with me that night. Instead I reached into my pocket and put the money on the table, then slept with her once more. It was the last time for us and as I left I had a new feeling of disgust and self-loathing that I had never experienced before. I couldn’t get clean when I got home, I took several showers, and washed myself, but the shame of my rendez-vous persisted in me. I couldn’t escape her, I couldn’t escape myself. My dark passenger had won that night, I had no defense that was sufficient to defeat him. It was that night, for the first time that I found myself drinking alone. I was desperately trying to quel the rage and shame running rampant within my mind; however it didn’t work, it never worked.
typo *your