Jasmine, that's her stage name anyway, is hot, and she is well aware of it. She's older than the other bargirls, but knows how to use her assets better than any of the fresh faces right off the farm.
I was drawn to her. Not because of how beautiful she is, but because I recognized a kindred spirit. In different ways, we had both taken our bruises in the game of love and stopped playing for good. Love was off the menu.
It was just never going to happen for me. If there had been a demand for barguys, I'd probably be swinging around a pole myself. Why not? Might as well get paid to fuck if you can. I had no more delusions of morality.
We chatted over a few drinks the first night I met her. Lucky it was low season, otherwise I would have never gotten a turn with her.
"I paid your bar fine, but I only want one thing." I told her without even negotiating her fee.
"What's that stud?" she purred at me, trying to improve her bargaining position.
"When we get out of here, drop the act. Let me meet the real Jasmine, or what ever your name really is." I requested.
She looked at me, right in the eyes for what felt like an eternity.
"Why do you think this isn't the real me?" she smiled. Her curiosity was up.
"Come on Jasmine. Look at me. Really look at me. I've been lied to by the best. I've fallen for the fake dreams and empty promises one too many times. Like you, the veil has been lifted from my eyes. I know better now. I know you now. We suffer the same fate, even though we are on opposite sides of this table." I made my speech.
"Why is that so important to you? To meet the real me?" she asked. She is as smart as I thought she was.
"I'm at a point of my life where I've done most everything. I've been the good guy. I've been the hero and I've been the knight. It's boring me to tears. I'm done trying to be good. I want interesting. I want exciting. I want fun, even if it's bad for me. Out of all these brainless twats in here, you are the only interesting one. Probably the only interesting thing in this whole city. I just want to see what makes the real you tick. What keeps you getting out of bed every day. That's all." I explained.
There was a long silence between us. I had no idea what was going on in her head. She had no idea how to respond.
"Jane." She said. My real name is Jane Castillo."
She must have figured out I was not a threat, and that's true. I couldn't think of a single thing worth getting upset over anymore. Maybe I'm a sociopath, and I don't feel empathy.
Would I push a child out from in front of a speeding truck? Yes. Probably. Would I care if it hit me in the process? No. Not a bit.
Not sure what kind of mental illness that is, but it's where I'm at. Getting hit by the truck isn't worth worrying about. The next day the sun will rise all the same, so what's the point of getting mad about it? Such is life. Sometimes you are the windshield, sometimes you are the bug.
I was in her city for as long as I wanted to be. I had left the rat race for good. Defeated in love, but not in business. I had made enough to last.
I usually picked Jane up three nights a week. I left Friday and Saturday nights for the other punters. There was plenty of business then. I was not going anywhere. I could wait for the slower days. The days she was happy to see me.
We didn't even have sex until the second week I started seeing her. Mostly because we ran out of stuff to talk about and got bored. Yeah, we both got off, but it was more like mutual masturbation using each other's bodies. I was getting my release, and she was getting hers. That's all.
We are both pretty good at it though, and sometimes we put some effort into it and it was very good. Sometimes we didn't and it was just adequate. Just get our release and get some sleep. Almost like an understanding between two professionals.
Jane did show me her real self. Not often at first, but it was like at times the effort to put on the act was too much, and her real personality came out. She seemed to care less and less about putting on the act with me the longer we hung out together.
Now, if you think the real Jane was a good person, you'd be wrong. Jane could be nice. Jane could be pleasant, but Jane was not good. Jane is a whore, and I'm OK with that.
She is the first woman I'd ever met that's actually as perverted as I am. She told me stories. Like how she liked to fuck with the newbies. She got off on making them fall in love with her. She would take all their money then crumple them up and throw them away.
"It's my job to ask. It's their job to say no. It's not my fault if the are bad at their job." She once told me.
She liked customers who are good at sex. The more kinky, the better. She was down for anything exciting. She told me about a customer who paid her just so he could eat her ass for hours. Not my thing, but he paid well so she let him. She doesn't judge.
The only big problem she had was a guy into rough sex who got carried away. She has a detached retina from that experience. She let him slap her around in a good, angry fuck that got out of control rather suddenly.
"My favorite customers are the Africans." She explained. "First, most girls are turned off by the dark brown skin. I find it erotic. Second, some of them are really hung. I've had a couple that really made me scream. I enjoyed that a lot." She didn't have any shame in being who she was, and that is what I liked about her.
I admit, I've fucked a few black girls in my time. Pain in the ass to deal with, but damn good fun in bed. They just never get enough. I've done my share of freaks too.
I think Jane was trying to scare me off with the truth about her depravity. It didn't work. I actually liked her more after she told me. We just happened to be both fucked up in the same way.
Jane admitted that she knew her expiration date was coming soon. At 36 years old, she would eventually lose the battle with father time. I asked her what she would do with her life after that.
"Move back to the province." She told me. "I own a big pig farm there. My brothers run it for me. I wasn't blowing all that money I made. I have enough to last. Now I work for the fun of it. Once you get used to the lifestyle, it's hard to walk away."
