The phone starts ringing at half-past six. I'm awake, just back from the bathroom after a night of fitful sleep.
I frown, thinking about whom it could be. But then I remember... I've placed the ad yesterday in the local paper. It wouldn't be the first time they called me as soon as four-o-clock in the morning. It leaves me wondering if the ink is dry by then. Men are always in such a hurry. I'll never be able to understand them.
I pick up the receiver.
"Hello, early morning bird," I say.
"You're the broad who placed the ad?"
His voice is coarse and clipped, obviously in the habit of giving orders and expecting obeisance.
"Yes."
"How much?"
I laugh. Always the first thing they ask.
"Nothing at all, honey," I assure him, "I'm not in it for the money. I just want some fun without the hassle of a relationship."
I have a dark and sultry voice, very sexy and exotic. My mother used to say, that with a voice like mine men would still want to get in my pants, even if I should look better with a bag over my head... Of course she was joking about the bag. But my vocal chords are really my true magic.
This one however is a real suspicious bloke.
"All right, say I don't believe you, what's the snag in it?"
"None, none at all," I assure him, "No money, no obligations, just some wonderful moments between you and me. I am nobody's property, why should I not make some fun when I am in the mood?"
"So, you're not a hooker?"
"Call me that again and I hang up," I warn him.
"Sorry, sorry," he hasten to say.
He's silent for a long moment, muttering under his breath. But finally he puts the question in.
"When you're free?"
"Any time you want till Friday. This week I've nothing better to do."
He laughs, "You're a hot bitch, I bet. The straight stuff or ..."
"I would prefer that, but if you know some special tricks we can talk about it... However, no SM or filthy things like peeing... Anal is discussable only if you're not hung like a horse."
"Depends how good you're at it."
"Excellent, so they say. No one said it hurts anyway."
Stupid answer for a stupid question, if you ask me. But he has another laughing fit.
"All right, I'll be there by nine, if it's all right with you. I like a taste of pussy before I go to office."
I assure him it sounds good enough for me. He hooks in after I've given him directions to the place where I'm staying.
It was a short conversation and a polite one as well. Many start swearing, calling me all sorts of names I certainly don't deserve, or try to moralize or analyze my motives, or have the urge to tell the most strange stories. But this one is different, concise and to the point. I promise myself to offer him a real good time.
I decide to take a shower.
But first I make the bed neatly. I change the sheets and put a tube of Vaseline and some condoms on the nightstand. Then I take my nightie off , pausing a moment or two before the full-length mirror to admire my body.
I'm not particularly vain, but I can say that the years have been very kind to me. I watch what I eat and I spent much time remaining fit. I'm forty, but people give me at least ten years less. I'm a natural red-hair, hazel eyes, slightly tanned. I have C-cup breasts that are a natural match for my narrow waist en smoothly flaring hips. I look good in whatever clothes I chose to wear. At the beach I'm still able to catch full male attention.
Gazing at my figure, my eyes travel down my flawless, pear shaped breasts to my still flat stomach and on to my smoothly shaven pussy. They say that for a white woman I have a large clitoris and thick, protruding inner lips. I remember their size used to embarrass me as a young girl at school. But boy, that changed soon.
My smile becomes bigger as I turn left and right, looking at the sensual curve of my hips and my shapely thighs and ass. I know, mirrors makes a girl self-conceited. They make me also horny... I let a hand slip idly across my breast, sending a chill through me as I touch a overly sensitive nipple. I move my feet apart, allowing my free hand move to my sex mound. My flushed face stares back at me from the mirror as I spread the fleshy hood covering my swelling clit. I close my eyes as I begin to play with myself.
******
After the shower I prepare breakfast.
By the time I have my second cup of coffee, the radio announcer is reading the headlines of the eight-o-clock news.
I always drink coffee before a date, too much coffee. People think you're used to it after a couple of times, but that's not my experience. Each time again, I'm still a nervous wreck. Who will it be, young or older, having a nice tool or something pathetic between his legs, a competent lover or not, kind and considerate or the proverbial male pig?
I'm not afraid of falling into the hands of some sadistic predator. I can take care of myself. I'm also a very good and quick judge of character. Bad guys don't cross my threshold.
No, rather than apprehension it's a blank and nameless excitement that comes over me. I can't place that feeling, that's the whole fucking problem.
