Selling Myself Cheap

The sun had just come up, and I had been working all night. I was desperately in need of a shower. It had been a long, very hot night, and all I wanted to do was get to my air conditioned apartment and sleep all day. My one piece dress was wet with sweat and probably other bodily fluids. I was wearing sandals so my feet hurt more than usual, and my jaw ached as well. But I couldn't go home, not yet. My problem was that I was short, about $100.

Early Sunday morning, the chances weren't great that I'd find a customer, but I stuck to where the Johns usually searched. All but the most desperate working girls had gone home. I was never out this late, usually I made my money and then some before the bars closed, but tonight I spent three hours with a friend at the ER. She had overdosed - or maybe it was her epilepsy - but either way, the time I spent taking care of her was time I wasn't taking care of business, and my pimp, Michael, wasn't going to want excuses, he was going to want his money. Tif, the girl I was babysitting wasn't even Michael's girl, so he wouldn't care that I was looking out for her.

I needed at least two customers before I could go home and face my pimp.

I saw a car, black, old fashioned but well maintained. The guy inside was like eighty, and dressed in his Sunday best. I saw Eve, one of the older working girls, step out, so I stepped out about a one hundred feet past her. I was so much younger and prettier than Eve, who was kind of old and used up. The streets and meth hadn't been kind to her.

The car slowed down and Eve said something I couldn't hear. There was familiarity in her voice - whoever this guy was, they knew each other. Probably a regular, but then the John saw me, and passed Eve, stopping right next to me.

"You working?" asked the guy, reaching over to crank down his window.

"Yeah," I said. "$40 for head, anything else in negotiable."

The man frowned. "Eve only charges me $20."

"Eve doesn't look like me," I said.

"Hey!" yelled Eve, staggering her way towards me. "You fucking cunt!"

The John let me in his car. "Where to?" he asked.

"Away from that crazy bitch," I said.

He drove, and eventually I directed him to the back of a church, where I do most of my business. The John seemed nervous. "Can we do this somewhere else?" he asked.

I directed him to my second location, in back of a strip mall. The place was overgrown with thorny vines and smelled liked garbage, which sucked, because the John's old car didn't have air conditioning. He had to roll the windows down.

Once we were parked, I touched his knee. "So what are you looking for?"

"Oral," said the John.

"Cool," I said, smiling. "Money first. $40."

"I only have $20," said the John.

"What the fuck dude!" I said, angry. "I told you it was $40."

"I only bring $20, because that's the rate I'm used to."

I opened the door to leave. "Fucking asshole."

In the narrow space behind the strip mall, the door would barely open. I couldn't open it any wider, and the John freaked out, because I was going to hurt his car.

"Wait!" he said, "I'll drive you back."

"Good," I said, but then reconsidered. I was still short. I needed the money.

"Wait," I said. "Give me the money."

He gave me the $20. "Lean back."

I undid did belt and unzipped him. Brought out his old cock, which was small and white and surrounded with gray pubes. It smelled of talcum powder. It was clean. I sucked it into my mouth and bobbed my head, noisily. He got rock hard in seconds.

I felt his hand on my tits, massaging them under the tee shirt I wore. I moaned like I liked it (I kind of do like having my tits played with when I'm sucking cock) and I felt him starting to pulse. He moaned, the shot three short spurts in my mouth. I held his cock in my mouth until he relaxed, then let him go. On instinct I went to open the door to spit out the cum, then realized the door wouldn't open. I also couldn't spit it out the window easily because of the thorny vines.

Fuck it, I thought, and swallowed.

"That was amazing," he said. "Can I see you again?"

"I'm not usually out this late," I said, "So find me closer to midnight. And bring me $60 next time. You owe me."

He smiled weakly and backed his car out from behind the strip mall. I got out and started walking as he drove away.

"Fucking bitch!" said a voice, and it was Eve of course.

"He stopped right in front of me, Eve. What was I supposed to do?"

I thought she might attack me, but all she did was yell and act up for a bit. "I'll claw your face whore!" she said. I walked away and she followed me a bit, cursing and acting out, but eventually she gave up.

I was still short though, and now the streets were filling up with normal people. Like church goers and early risers. Even families packed for the beaches. The temperature, which bare got below 75 all night, was already creeping up. I was sweaty and probably smelled like the cumrag I was.

Then I saw the John's car again, in the parking lot of the church. He was in the doorway, speaking to an elderly couple. The woman stared at me with disgust, the John just looked away, embarrassed.

I heard a car coming and looked back, hoping for another John. It was my pimp, Michael. His car was a black Mustang with red trim, a muscle car.

"You're working late KitKat," he said, his voice stern.

"I'm still trying to make my nut, Sir," I said, worried he'd be mad. "Stacia said you were MIA all night."

Fucking Stacia, I thought. I came clean. It was better than lying. "I was helping a friend at the ER. I can still make it."

"Nah," said my pimp. "You can make it up tonight. How short are you?"

"Eighty."

Michael nodded. "Okay," he said, sounding reasonable. "Make me an extra double that tonight."

"Yes Sir!" I said, cringing inside. Sunday night's were impossibly slow. I'd have to pull at least a dozen tricks, probably more. Most Sundays I was lucky to get ten.

I got in the car and handed Michael all my money. "Fuck you stink, KitKat," he said, "Make sure you wipe that seat down when we get back to our place."

"Yes Sir," I said, feeling helpless.