Self awareness is valuable information to have. Oddly, not everyone has the ability to know who they are or what they want or need. I've always known just how drop dead cute I was, something easily verifiable by simply taking my dog for a walk.
When young pretty women go dog walking the number of turned heads from drive by men gives a fairly accurate confirmation of the cute factor. The cute meter is based upon length of time the heads are turned. A brief glance being the bottom line all the way up to 'can't look away' and nearly causing an accident. Most of the time my cute meter operates at the maximum.
Also, this is a good time to mention one of the greatest fashion inventions of the modern era; black tights. Tights are basically a piece of clothing just barely covering anything while outlining perfectly every curve and detail of the female body. And don't even suggest another color because only black gives the male imagination something to think about. Black is dramatic.
I'm twenty four years old, five-five, blonde, petite with small but perfect breasts and a round, firm, killer ass that makes those black tights move the way they should. Walking my dog, Sasha, gives me the perfect excuse to display my assets and you can clearly see what men are thinking with little effort.
I like that. I like a cum dripping cock.
I think about sex all the time. So much so that I might as well have been hatched a man. My fingers were always intimately connected to my clitoris, that little kitty that can't be fed enough. My orgasms are on a hair trigger which means that if I have one I want twenty. I should walk around with a sign that says, 'pussy on demand, welcome all'.
So I had to come up with a way to meld my personal life and my working life and there was only one thing that made any sense and that was escort/prostitute. They say that the key to a good work life is to love your job so the choice seemed straightforward.
Boyfriends seemed laborious and time consuming although they continue to ask me out because I have that wholesome cute thing that I mentioned earlier. Men look at me and initially want to fuck me and that is closely followed by wanting to marry me. Apparently, I look like I should be married. Cute and married. They are genuinely surprised that I'd rather have five hundred bucks for the hour than a marriage proposal.
So I fuck men for money...and walk my dog.
I've only been at it for about a year but so far the earnings have been significant. Before that I was working in the fast food industry with minimal return but that all changed the day I met Vince at the drive thru window. He admitted that he kept coming through the line and buying food just to see me.
One day I asked him if he'd wait briefly in the pickup area because his order was slow coming out. He was a little grumpy about it until I told him that I'd bring it out to his car. He seemed to brighten up at the prospect of me walking across the lot to his car because he'd only seen the top half of me through the window.
I could see his eyes follow me in the rear view mirror all the way there. "Sorry for your wait," I said, handing off the bag of grub. As I turned to go he said...
"Waiting for you was not a problem. You're incredibly cute and I keep coming back to see you," he spit out in his car confessional.
"Thanks," I replied with my 'cute' smile.
As I turned to go, he asked me out.
"Sorry, I don't date."
Desperate to keep me there he asked if I'd just sit in his car for a minute or so and he offered me a hundred bucks. "I just want to talk for a minute."
Knowing my job would be on the line and against all better judgment I got in his car. "So, what now?" I asked, taking the bill from him.
"I just wanted to tell you that I've got a huge crush on you and please go out with me."
"I don't date," and started out of the car.
"Wait! I'll give you another hundred to stay."
"But for what? I can't stay. I'll lose my job!"
He was scrambling, "Ahhh, I don't know...ahhh, just sit and look at you?"
"What?!?!"
"I'm sorry, you're so hot and everything..."
Now I suppose I should have been concerned that he'd just drive off to some remote location and murder me but for some reason I didn't detect any malice. Thinking a minute about the fact I'd just been handed two hundred dollars for doing essentially nothing I surprised the hell out of him and myself, "Okay, pull around back."
By now, I knew there would be some chaos in the restaurant but I rationalized that even if I got fired I could always get another job and so far I made two hundred for the day.
He was shocked when I unzipped his pants and unearthed his raging boner like an excavation dig. I was mildly turned on that he'd gotten hard in the brief time I was in his car but all I could think was 'get him off as quickly as possible' and get back inside. I worked his throbbing shaft and watched his eyes roll back and knew it was nearly over. His cum shot out and grazed my cheek, most of it landing on my uniform.
In seconds after he went off my manager angrily rapped on the window, my hand still holding the evidence. I was uncomfortably stuck between two employers, one in joyful bliss and the other one pissed as hell.
"Hayley! Get out of the car and into my office!"
"Thanks for the money, dude," I said quickly as my manager opened the door and pulled me out, walking me back inside. Just before closing the door behind us I heard, "Vince, my name's Vince!!"
As we sat in my manager's office, with a stern look on his face, he informed me that I no longer had a job and really he should call the police.
I begged him not to call the police and asked, "What can I do to make things right?"
