When it was all said and done, there were far worse ways to wake up than buck-ass naked with a used condom leaking down one cheek. Chris knew from experience that if she didn't end up having to get a haircut from the night's activities it was like water under the bridge. A nice wad of assorted bills stuffed into her sleeping hand meant she wouldn't even have to waste time extracting payment.
What had that guy's name been again? He'd looked confident enough, must have worked out, but he introduced himself with an obviously fake name right at the start. John?
Chris didn't care especially much, she had enough dates who didn't feel like giving her a name in the first place. That said, she would be adding to the bill next time for leaving the condom on her face if he wasn't too much of a coward to use her services again.
Her back hurt and her ass still burned from the pounding he'd given her, gone at it hard for the full hour and had to extend the date since he wasn't able to finish in time. Eventually, she'd taken something from an unmarked bottle and told him to leave the money when he was done. That she'd fallen asleep on the futon rather than in her real bed didn't help things.
John had been that guy, Corey, his friend, hadn't he? The web of contacts wasn't a physical list she could check but it did pay to know where her paychecks were coming from. Corey himself was a little creep, five feet of anger issues in a trenchcoat but he paid without complaint and sent roses besides, which immediately went into the trash.
In fact, on seeing his gifts in her kitchen trash, Chris was fairly sure the little dude popped a boner. Thinking about it, she thought she'd try shoving something up his ass next time he came around. Pegging wasn't her thing but it wasn't exhausting in the same way getting reamed herself was.
Wiping the crust from her eyes, Chris hauled her creaking self up to attention and finally discarded the condom into the pile of who gave a shit in the corner. It was a chilly morning leading into the spring as the goosebumps along her skin and glass-cutting nipples could attest. After making a deposit in her mouth, the landlord had promised to get the heat working in her shitshack; wouldn't his wife like to know how the rent on that unit was paid? Such things didn't happen immediately, she knew, but ground her teeth in frustration anyway.
Next time, maintenance first, blowjob after.
Breakfast, or brunch as it may have been since she realized she'd been asleep nearly until noon, consisted of a cold piece of pizza that would begin walking around in her fridge if she didn't get to it fast and a lemon soda for a hangover which oddly enough she wasn't having for once. Thus ended her non-alcoholic stores.
Did most other people fill out a fridge? She found it hard to find enough of what she liked to get it half full for a week. Other people must have simply been hungrier than her.
Shivering, she caught a whiff of herself. Sweat and cum, what she thought her nose would be numb to by that point, but still...
The boiler was in fact working and Chris was soon able to leave the chilly air behind for a skin-reddeningly hot shower. Soap took care of the crusted up cum on her skin and melted dried lube down the drain. She shoved a finger up her stinging asshole to rub out some of the last bits of lube and wished masturbation would do anything for her anymore as she waggled a finger against the walls of her ass. Nope, nothing good, it just ached all the way through her belly and against her bottom ribs.
Then and there, she decided that she wouldn't arrange any more dates for the day, take one off for a change to rest and recoup on some sleep. It did take a while to recall what day it actually was, but the lack of clomping around by her neighbors upstairs meant it had to at least be a weekday.
And those bastards had the nerve to complain about a rotating door of "boyfriends" going on downstairs? Did Chris go to their places of business and stomp around?
Well, once, but just to prove a point. A couple of creampies in the back of a car dealership later and her neighbor in the corner got awfully quiet until the husband was seen leaving with a suitcase full of his shit and a bruise in the shape of a frying pan.
Chris chuckled into the spray of hot water, good times.
She was loath to step out of the warm mist, but knew her cheapass landlord got the worst boiler on the market and she had to get out before it cut out completely and chilled her to the bone. So, wrapping her damp self in the fluffiest towel she owned, Chris got out and made a mad dash to the bedroom where she kept some actually warm clothes with proper coverage.
This room at least smelled reasonable. She closed the door against the wave of garbage and sour cumstains and breathed a sigh of relief in her little sanctuary. An automatic oil diffuser puffed from the wall socket as if in greeting its master, fighting the good fight against the pervasive odor that had claimed the rest of her apartment. Perhaps it was this burst of rose that kept her nose from adjusting to her lifestyle, but whatever.
Even if that was the case, her mild disgust, unspoken of and cowering in the corner, was one of the only things she could eke pleasure out from anymore. What was left after so many dates to look forward to? Nobody had come up with a new way of humping as far as she could tell, and she'd had the sampler platter.
Outside of mom's control, Chris draped a blanket over her shoulders which would serve well for cuddling and picked up woolen long johns which were not, as the woman would have said, dowdy and unappealing.
Chris slapped herself in the face to get rid of that mental image. Mother wasn't there anymore and there was no reason to keep picturing the bitch.
Returning to the living room to "rest" on the futon with daytime television, she saw that her phone, left in the one clean spot on the floor, was blinking with a text.
'Hello,' it said, 'I got this number in a bathroom, are you really a prostitute? Can I arrange for an appointment today between five and seven PM?'
Not one of her regulars, they were smart enough not to leave a paper trail. Probably not a cop either, they already knew all about her and either tacitly approved or didn't give a shit if she worked in their town.
"A virgin." Chris scoffed. How long had it been since she'd popped a cherry? It was always refreshing to see that look of gratitude on a man who didn't have any better options than her. "Guess he won't be brave enough to ask for anal..."
She typed back, 'We can hang out around then, sure. You know where?'
The response came so quickly that the virgin was sure to have been leaning over their phone since sending the first one. 'Yes, it was also on the wall where I saw your number. Sorry but I had to scrub all of it off the wall since we're preparing for the freshmen coming in this spring.'
'Sure, whatever. Bring a hundred and we'll hang out for an hour, cool?'
