I can't believe he stood me up again!
It was quarter past nine, and the movie that he promised he would take me to started fifteen minutes ago.
I knew it wasn't his type of movie, but I never asked much of him. Hell, I did so much for him; I gave him all the sex he wanted; when he wanted, the least he could do was sit through this movie for a couple of hours.
To make it worse, I had spent half the day getting ready for tonight. I thought I would surprise him with a new semi-gothic look. He had mentioned several times that he liked that look, so stupid me thought, why not surprise him?
I should have clued in when he called me that evening and told me that he was running late and would meet me at the cineplex instead of picking me up. I knew that running late meant he was drinking at his buddy's place. I disapproved, but he promised he would show up. Stupid me...again.
So there I was in the lobby waiting for my piece of shit boyfriend, questioning why I always let men treat me like this.
I called him, but there was no answer. The later it got, the more obvious it was that he wasn't going to show up. I'm sure he was drunk with his ignorant pig buddies.
I was feeling hurt and seriously pissed off.
Well, fuck him, I thought. I went outside and paused on a bench to gather my thoughts. How could I somehow salvage this night? I knew he was at his friend's place drinking, and I was pretty sure he was expecting me to show up there, just like all the other Saturday nights. Well, not this night. I had enough of him.
I pulled my long black coat tight around me. My hair was blowing in the wind, and I could feel the biting wind against my stockinged legs, my short skirt not offering much protection.
An older man came and sat on the bench beside me. Lighting up a cigarette, he looked me over and said,
"Nice look. Goth or emo?"
"Neither," I replied as I turned away from him. I'm sure he got that I wasn't in a good mood.
"Are you interested in having some fun?" he said.
I didn't respond, as I wasn't really interested in anything he had to say.
He took a drag of his cigarette, then dropped it to the ground, grinding it out underfoot. He pulled his wallet from his jacket pocket and counted the contents.
"What can I get for $200?"
Oh my god, does he think I'm a hooker? Do I really look like a hooker? He has my attention now.
I turned to look at him. He had longish but greying hair, smooth features, and was attractive in a bookish kind of way. He was dressed in a suit, dark blue, with a white shirt and a pale yellow tie. His leather jacket looked expensive, as did his shoes.
"Are you serious? I'm nineteen, and you're offering me money for sex? You fucking old pervert." I sneered at him.
The entire time I was scolding him, I was thinking $200 was a shit load of money (back then), and I was really in no position to walk away from such a windfall. At the time, my father was not working due to an illness, and my family was struggling financially.
He smiled and put the money back in his wallet.
"I'm in town on business. I was supposed to meet someone for dinner, but they've just canceled. I'm at a loose end. I'm sorry if I offended you."
He stood up and made to leave. I had to admire his audacity.
"Cash up front," I shot back. I was momentarily stunned that those words actually came out of my mouth.
He stopped and looked me over. I stood up. I had on my long black coat, short black leather skirt, black stockings, and knee-high leather boots. Under my coat, I had on a scarlet bra and a lacy blacktop. I had gotten carried away with my make-up, lots of dark lipstick, and tons of black eyeliner. My mom said I looked like a panda, the bitch. I was going for the semi-Goth look that evening, and I had nailed the look, so I thought.
"Half now, the rest later," he said.
I nodded and took the offered $100.
What the fuck was I doing? Getting back at my piece of shit boyfriend? But I was strangely attracted to this older, well-dressed man, and well, it was $200--more than two months worth of working at my part-time job and babysitting stints combined.
"Where are we going to do this?" I asked.
He pointed to the hotel across from the cineplex.
"I'm in room 306. I'll go ahead, and you follow in five minutes. I'm trusting you not to be a runner."
He turned, crossed the road, and disappeared through the hotel revolving door.
I could just run. I thought it would serve him right for soliciting a young girl.
Could I actually go through with this? What was the alternative? Go hang out with my dumbass boyfriend, get drunk, and then have unsatisfying sex with him. At least this guy seemed nice. I'm sure he wouldn't have stood me up, either. I told myself to think of it as just another date. Awe, fuck, why not?
My mind was made up; I stood up, crossed the road, and entered the hotel. I could feel the stares from the staff as I walked through the lobby and headed to the elevator.
The elevator seemed to take forever to arrive, and my hand was shaking as I pressed the button for the third floor. The elevator doors opened, and I saw the sign telling me the room I wanted was to the right.
I paused, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door. There was no turning back now. He opened the door and stood to one side, letting me in. He closed the door behind me, motioning me into the room. I heard him lock the door with the latch and the deadbolt behind me. Yikes, there was no escaping now.
As I entered the room, I couldn't help but notice the size of the bed. I'd heard of king-sized beds but had never seen one before. The lights were dimmed, and there was soft music playing in the background. How nice.
He undid the cufflinks on his shirt and placed them with his expensive-looking watch on the dresser.
"Would you like a drink?" He opened the mini-bar so I could see the contents.
"Umm... a white wine, please."
He took out a premixed vodka and tonic for himself. There was only one glass, and he poured the wine into it. My classless boyfriend would have just given me the unopened bottle.
The room was pleasantly warm. I took off my coat and went to throw it over the chair. He took it from me and hung it up in the closet.
I stood there in my short black leather skirt and lacy top. He smiled at me.
"Relax," he said. "I want you to enjoy this as well." I guess he sensed my apprehension.
I smiled back, despite myself. I sat on the edge of the bed.
"I'm going to take a shower," he said.
He took off his shirt, revealing a nicely toned body. He stepped out of his shoes and removed his socks, then took off his trousers. He wore boxer shorts and left them on as he turned on the light in the bathroom.
"I won't be long. Make yourself comfortable." He motioned to the bed.
Oh wow, this was moving fast. I guess this was my cue to get undressed? Never having done anything like this before, I was taken aback at how quickly things were progressing. I wasn't sure what I was expecting. As much as I tried to convince myself that this was just like any other date, it wasn't. He had purchased my services. The outcome was predetermined.
I could hear him in the shower. I finished my drink and took off my boots, kicking them into the corner, and my clothes followed. At nineteen, I had nice perky breasts (34B), stood at 5'5", and was a skinny 105 lbs.
I was feeling uneasy, as I wasn't sure what the protocol was for this type of situation. Should I get under the bed covers and wait, or was that too forward? Instead, I sat on the bed and nervously waited with my arms and legs crossed tight, trying to cover up as much as possible.
The shower turned off, and I could hear him moving about. The door then opened, and he stepped out, naked. I couldn't help but look at his package. His pubic area looked like it was freshly shaved. His bald and clean cock was semi-hard as it swayed from side to side as he walked towards me.
He came and sat on the bed beside me. His eyes took in my body, from my brown hair, down over my perky breasts, my stomach, my pussy, down my long, skinny legs, to my dark purple-painted toenails.