Zip, The Nineteenth

“First time?” She asked with an eclectic accent. She’d clearly learnt her english in Germany, or at best from a German speaker, but couldn’t hide her Eastern European origins.

She sat on the bed, pulled out a long cigarette, and tilted it up toward me. I wasn’t sure if she was offering me one, or asking me for permission to light up.

She lit up.   

“First money.” OK, no problem. I pull out the money I’d set aside; I didn’t want her to see where I keep my money.

She counts it, and starts talking to me in a foreign language… It wasn’t German. German sounds soft compared to whatever she was speaking. But maybe it was just the attitude.

I finally get that I’m 20 bucks short, something about paying for the taxi ride back and forth… Whatever, I pay.

If you’re wondering what’s going on, there’s no twist; she’s a sex worker and this was my first time experiencing this event.

I made sure she was working out of choice, and not out of force. Which she was.

She asks where the shower is, and asks for a towel. She sends me in just as she gets out. Now I’m naked and she’s wearing a very sexy, silk beige long loose shirt, which covers her ‘private’ bits.

She lays the towel down on the bed, and lies down on it, gestures for me to come there to.

I lie down… I wonder what to do. So I start kissing her shoulder. It’s kind of like when someone’s going to mug you on the street. They don’t just jump you, unless they’ve done it a bunch of times. If it’s their first mugging, they’ll probably open with an ice breaker like: “Yo, got a light?” or “What time you got there?” that also allows them to see what phone or watch you’ve got. So I kiss her, as an ice breaker, but she moves away.

“No kisses”

“No Kisses?”

“Yes”

“Yes? So where can I kiss you?”

“No. No kiss” As she gestures her very sexy and lean body.

So now, I’m all confused… Am I allowed to touch her? My confusion moves away swiftly. She’s somehow maneuvered herself between my legs. I will save you the unnecessary details; we all know what a felatio is.

Then we’re at it. I’m kind of in shock… Was expecting a bit of-

oh shit…

I’m done. But I’m not finished.

And like a Jedi mind trick she just says “finished?”

“yes, finished”

With the same speed she’s out of the room, condom in hand… Wait, what? How did she even put it on, let alone take it off?

She heads to the shower, I walk to get some water from the fridge, not that I need it or anything, it’s just a habit.

As I get back, she’s dressed!

I look at her in dismay…

“Wait, I paid for an hour!”

“Yes, but if you come, then it’s over”

“Where does it say that?!”

“On my site.”

Her english level just rose by 80%… Maybe she caught that off me. Had she stayed the night, she might have ended up fluent.

I look at her up and down, there’s no remorse, as she says that she’s sorry.

I notice her jeans are half open. I point at them.

Smile. Zip. Heels. Door closed behind her. And that was my first time with a sex worker, and most likely the most expensive six minutes of my life. Fine, four.

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