I'm loving all the comments and feedback I'm getting; I'm so glad people are enjoying the story and characters I've created here. Hope you enjoy the next installment.
There is a time jump involved in this chapter that isn't spelled out until later. If something seems disjointed or sudden, please stick with it and it should make sense later.
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"Jaya stop that!" Jasmine said.
"I'm fine Jasa," Jaya snapped.
Jasa
When they were kids, Jaya, at all of three, had decided in her child's logic that the largest injustice of the world was that her name didn't sound like her big sister's. Everyone tended to call her Jas or Jasmine, and neither of those ended with an "a" like hers. Jasmine, being the sweet, accommodating person she was, had suggested the nickname Jasa.
The only person it ever stuck with was Jaya. As they got older it became almost like a secret code for them. And the exchange had played out probably thousands of times; Jasmine, worried for her sister when she was doing something, from sneaking toward a squirrel to dating a questionable boy, would say "Stop that, Jaya!" And Jaya's response would almost always be "I'm fine Jasa."
The two stared at each other.
"Where is she?" Jasmine whispered.
"What?"
"What did you do with my sister?" Jasmine said louder.
"Jasmine-"
"TELL ME!" she shouted, coming forward.
She grabbed Jaya's shoulders and hauled her out of the chair, knocking it over and almost tripping both of them to the floor. She kept pushing until they hit the wall near her front door.
"How do you know that name!? Jaya's the only one who knows that name, HOW DO YOU FUCKING KNOW THAT NAME!?"
"Jasmine please! You're hurting me!"
"WHERE'S MY SISTER!?" Jasmine screamed and slammed Jaya against the wall.
Jaya's head hit and she was dazed. She dropped to the floor and Jasmine let her fall, then backed off.
Jaya groaned, her vision tunneling a bit as she tried to sit up. For some reason that seemed to startle Jasmine.
"Oh...oh my God what...Mariah are you okay?"
"Hurts," Jaya said.
"I...I'll get some ice." Jasmine said.
When Jasmine turned to go back to the kitchen, Jaya got up, yanked the door open, and ran.
* * * * *
"Dallas, hey, I know you already got someone lined up but they're a two-block, right? You think you can fit in someone else? It's a twofer, so good scratch on that."
"Why are you even asking, Brock?" Dallas said dismissively.
"Well I mean I know it's a long day, baby-"
"Don't call me that, how many fucking times to I have to tell you!?" Dallas snapped, "And stop pretending you care. We both know you already told them yes and we both know I'm up for it."
"Well you don't have to be a bitch about it," Brock snapped.
"I'm your best earner. By far. We both know I could go independent and get whales begging me to work for them. And we both know why that ain't happening. I don't want to pretend this is anything other than what it is. I do enough pretending."
"Fine, whatever, I'll send you the details. And tomorrow you got your session with me," Brock said.
"Fuck you, Brock. We had our session last Wednesday; I remember because my brain isn't dissolved in drugs like your other girls. You want me again you pay me my rate or you wait a month."
"You're lucky I let you get away with this shit. My other girls-"
"Need you for a fix and nobody would take them if you paid them. You could try to blackball me but we both know that won't hold. Now give me the details and get off my fucking phone."
Dallas closed the phone and considered throwing it out the window, but despite her earning power she couldn't afford to casually toss an item that might cost a few hundred to replace.
She ignored the email she got from Brock about the two-fer, though she did check her purse to make sure she had two bottles of lube that were still somewhat full. A lot of guys' favorite solution to avoiding sloppy seconds in a pussy was to use her ass instead. And if they were less homophobic than average johns, or if they got themselves worked up enough, they would want to DP her. Either way, assuming they had the money for it, she was getting sodomized tonight.
She arrived at her next client's house. Unlike many of her customers it was a local with a house on the outskirts of Vegas. It was a lower-middle class neighborhood; most of the houses were thirty to forty years old. The house in question was in an area where upkeep was spotty. Some houses had well-maintained lawns behind solid chain-link fences. Others had weeds for lawns, rusted gates, and a pool in the back yard half-full of water no living thing would want to swim in.
She knocked on the door and found what she was expecting; a middle-aged, balding man in shorts and a wife-beater, clearly several hours into polishing off a case of cheap beer. They exchanged first names. His was John, ironically enough.
"So what can I do for you?" Dallas asked.
"It's my anniversary," John said.
"Congratulations," Dallas said.
"'Fore she left me, she only fucked on our anniversary. Figured I'd keep the tradition going," John said, putting bills out on the coffee table. Dallas was surprised but not disappointed; most people paid with online apps these days, and she'd had to learn the bare basics of cryptocurrencies as a matter of necessity given the number of naïve, paranoid johns who insisted they had to use untraceable currency to dodge the cops. Like the vice squad did deep dives on johns' finances. She'd also privately added a $100 surcharge to her services if they made her listen to a spiel about what new currency she should get on "right away."
John had Dallas booked for two hours, but only because that was her minimum. Brock had tried to convince her to go as short as a half hour, arguing she could fit in more clients with shorter time blocks. But she charged enough that it didn't matter; she still earned more with less clients than most of his girls.
She started with a blowjob but John wasn't into it except as a way to get hard. As soon as he was stiff enough to perform he had her on top of him, her breasts practically smacking him in the face as she rode him. He goped her roughly, wanting to get a feel of her tits and ass with no care to her enjoyment. She got pleasure out of it, cumming once before they switched to doggy with her bent over the couch arm, but she wouldn't say she enjoyed it.
She braced herself on the cushions as he thrust, her tits swinging free as he slammed into her. His hands were on her hips but then one of them started to drift.
"You got another five hundred lying around?" she snapped.
"No," John said.
"Then you don't put that finger or anything else anywhere near my asshole," Dallas said.
John only grunted in reply, but then his fucking got more aggressive. He slammed into her twice as hard and his fingers practically bruised her hips. He never said anything, which was interesting. Often clients would bitch her out when she cut them off, even as they continued to fuck her.
He finished about when Dallas expected him to, and she managed to ensure another orgasm herself before he did. When he pulled out a cigarette Dallas had to shake her head, wondering if John was authentic or if he was trying to play into the stereotype, to whose benefit she didn't know.
Dallas tried to feel out if he was done or would let her go early; very few single guys used an entire two-hour block. He made her stick around insisting round two was coming. She put her panties back on but stayed topless as she scrolled through her phone.
"How much for you to play with yourself?" John asked her when their session had 30 minutes left.
"Fifty," she said immediately. He pulled out another couple of bills. Dallas set her phone down and spread her legs wide, pulling the fabric of her panties up against her pussy. She rubbed herself through the underwear first, groping her own breasts and maintaining eye contact with John as much as she could. He focused more on her tits and pussy, stroking himself as he desperately tried to coax some life into his pecker.
Dallas could make herself cum in less than a minute if she really tried, but she saw no reason to rush this. If she strung John along right, he would get so excited and distracted watching her that he'd either jerk himself to completion or lose track of time and she'd be able to leave. She did the cycle of rubbing her pussy over her panties, then dipped her hand in and rubbed for a bit before bringing it to her mouth to seductively suck her own juices off. She knew a lot of girls so grossed out by the thought of eating pussy that they'd do that without actually touching or tasting themselves, just letting the saliva stand in for their pussy juice. Dallas never faked it, but she never minded going down on women either.
Her stalling tactic didn't really work. By the time she pulled her panties to the side so she could rub her pussy in the open for him, John was hard again and he knew it. He stood up and walked over to her. She moved as if she would blow him but he made her bend over the table and took her there. The edge of the table dug into her hips every time he slammed into her. She tried to work it into the experience, like how sometimes if someone bit her nipples hard the pain went with the pleasure, but hips weren't much of an erogenous zone. He managed to cum before his time was up and pulled out to jizz on her ass, which had the side effect of forcing her to stay a little longer to clean up in his bathroom. She re-counted her money to make sure he hadn't tried to take any back and then left to go to her car, tossing a "happy anniversary" over her shoulder as she left.
She pulled up Brock's e-mail about her next client and decided she had to call him.
"What'd he do?" Brock said immediately.
"What? Oh the john? Nothing. This is about the two-fer."
"You already said you were fine with it," Brock said warningly.
"Brock they're on the 30th floor of the Bellagio!" Dallas said.
"So what?"
"So those are the fucking suites! Are these people loaded or just on a binge?"
"The fuck should I know? You know what questions I ask the customer when they call? Who, where, and what. Why don't enter into it."
"And this is two women. Brock this is sketchy as fuck."
"You like working with women. Hell everyone does, they're a safer bet. Except for the random psychos that lose their shit every now and then."
"Brock, no offense, but if you got two women in a suite at the Bellagio, you are not their first call. They're going to find an agency or just troll for an independent operator."
"Well fuck you very much, which, oh yeah, happens to be your job. So go do it. They asked for you specifically, by the way, so maybe that's why they talked to me," Brock said.
