Going into her room. Disrobing. Her warm body against mine, skin against skin, the healing process beginning. Touching, licking, stroking, stretching, inserting, murmuring, smiling.
Asking her, are most of them regular clients, or mostly new ones? Oh, mostly regular, some new ones. Telling her, not surprising, I can quite see the reasons, being one myself, I expect they all want to marry you.
Jenny looking at me, smiling. Yes it’s amazing, they have their wives and families, but never a month goes by without at least two offers of marriage, serious ones, they want to take me away, my children too. Also hundreds of offers to take me to on a date somewhere.
Using a tissue to wipe a glazed drip of my juices from her chin. It’s funny, I know I’m attractive, but I’m not beautiful, my legs are a bit heavy, my breasts are small, my nose is big, I'm not that young, but I must have something, the men all come back and want me as a friend, and they all come here desperate and leave smiling.
Me thinking, don’t I know it, baby, it’s your genius.
Jenny continuing, but what they don’t understand is, this is only an hour. If I said yes, I’ll run off with you, make a life, then he’ll expect that all day every day will be like it is once a week or month for an hour. Then it’ll wear thin. Then he’ll start remembering my past life. Then one day he’ll get drunk and start calling me a whore, and maybe start beating me up.
My clothes now on, Jenny still on the bed, naked, and comfortable being naked, a special form of loveliness.
Kissing me. So I just tell them, I’m flattered, darling, but no, strict rules, I’ll do anything but you pay for the time, you can use your hour to buy me coffee somewhere or for me to suck you, but you pay.
Leaving, walking down the street, London’s bright clear weather still shining. Thinking, just as well she said that, I was half going to offer to take her out for a coffee myself, good to be reminded of the realities.
