Later that night Bobby got into a very involved conversation about the last university match against his home team. I stayed for as long as I could and then wandered downstairs to the kitchen.
I won’t lie. I was looking to see if anyone was outside smoking. I don’t smoke, but I do smoke at parties. Just like I don’t cheat, except on my boyfriend, sometimes, when I’m a prostitute but not really.
I peeped through the kitchen window and saw Tom sitting out there smoking quietly. Knowing full well I shouldn’t, I stepped outside and closed the door softly behind me.
It was so cold. Chicago in December is not the worst weather; far from it, usually, but it does get chilly. Thankfully it wasn’t windy, just a low, dry cold.
Tom hadn’t taken his eyes off me.
“Yeah, I’m awfully cute. Can I steal one?”
Tom, after a languid moment, looked into his carton and then back at me. “I don’t want to be encouraging bad habits.”
“Oh shut up,” I said. I grabbed the cigarette from his fingers and slipped it between my lips. “Ew,” I said. “Camels.”
He smiled and pulled another one from his box. He lit it. “I’m trying to make myself quit.”
“Shouldn’t be hard.”
“Yeah, I just got all these urges I need to sublimate.”
I smiled at him wryly. “Where’s Beth?”
“Put the claws away, Cat.”
“I will hit you-”
He chuckled. “She has gone for the night. But I did get her number.” He flashed a scrap of paper at me and slipped it back in his pocket.
“Was that true, what you said?”
“I did indeed get her number, yes.”
“Fine.”
We smoked in silence for a bit. I felt a little warmer. Though it couldn’t have all been the cigarette.
“I think it’s true,” he said.
“Let me ask you something.”
He rolled his head against the house, cigarette perched on his lip.
“Real suave. No, um, even if someone agreed to that kind of deal, with paying. It’s still degrading.”
Tom sighed. “I can’t deny that, I guess. I mean, part of the thrill is that it’s degrading- some of it, anyway. But by paying for it it kind of sets that up, makes it more understood.”
“What do you mean?”
He took a drag and let his hand drop below the chair. “Well, it’s sort of like erotica, isn’t it?”
“You mean porn?”
“Some people call it erotica.”
“Some people like you.”
He smiled. “Some people like me, who get urges, who are fine, strapping young citizens of the nation, who wouldn’t hurt a fly but are, for whatever our reasons, kinky creatures. It’s fantasy. It’s an outlet, a channel, something to access. Does paying for sex degrade the person who’s being paid. Yes, maybe. But it’s part of the show, the price of admission. How they are used in that context is essential to the fantasy. How they’re treated before and after is just as important.” He finished his cigarette and put it out on the pavement. Then he smiled at me. “Kinky people have feelings too, after all.”
I crossed my arms. “So you have feelings, huh?”
“I wasn’t talking about me.”
He stood up and sauntered over to me. He put his hands in his pockets and I could see in his eyes, no matter how he may have denied it, that he was thinking about trying to kiss me.
But he didn’t.
He walked out into the backyard and let himself out the back gate. “Take care,” he said. And I finished my cigarette by myself.
* * *
He kissed me sweetly and crushed my body to him. I melted against him and kissed back, sending my tongue into his mouth.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he said. I smiled at him and pulled back. I grabbed at the undersides of my sweater and prepared to give him the full reveal. But he had already pushed me back against my bed.
My feet still stuck in the heels I tried to kick them off but they were strapped tight. “Hold on, let me-” I started.
“Leave them on,” he said. “It’s hot.” He pulled my skirt up over my ass and yanked down on my panties. When he got them to about my thighs he stood up and unzipped his fly. “Are you ready, honey?”
I guess so, I thought. We could take it slow later. He slid his pants down to the floor and stepped out of them. His big dick tented his boxers and then he pulled them down too, gingerly making sure to get his penis free. He leaned back over me and worked my panties past my knees.
He kissed my mouth and slipped his hand up under the sweater. “I love it when you don’t wear a bra, Katie.”
I kissed him back and reached for his cock. He was already pushing it forward.
“Wait.”
He paused over me. “What is it?”
“Condom,” I said.
“Oh, right,” he said. “Sorry.” He reached down to his pants and pulled a string of condoms forth. Ripping one open he quickly rolled it down his cock and climbed up on the bed. “Ready, baby?”
“Yeah,” I said. I was mostly wet enough. He shoved it against my cunt and I squirmed to try to get him inside. “Wait,” I said.
Bobby pushed and tried to rearrange his hips. “Like that?” he said.
“Mmhm,” I replied. We finally got situated and he pushed himself in.
“God, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” he groaned.
“I do kegels,” I said.
He smiled and kissed me, and it was a good kiss. We both still had our shirts on and the pumps were driving me crazy but we were together and doing it.
He did it to me missionary and it was fine.
It was really fine.
I made all the noises I knew he liked to hear and not all of them were lies. But when he finished and collapsed on top of me my pussy was burning and I didn’t know why.
That’s not true. I did know why.
I was thinking of Tom fucking me in the ass. It made me so angry. That he would ask that, that he wanted that. I thought of the money and five hundred easy dollars for just one assfuck. I’d never let Bobby in there.
While Bobby was on top of me and fucking me I was thinking of Tom stretching me, a month ago, stretching my arms, holding me down on my carpet while he pinned my hands to the ground and made me slide back and forth on his dick, basically using my pussy as a sheathe. But he made me slide all the way up and all the way down. And he made me do it slow. And then, while he had me stretched out like that, he blew in my ear.
He flipped me over. He pulled out and patted my bottom. I flipped over for him (because he paid me to do what he wanted) and he held my arms out over my head. He got behind me and mounted me. Just the tip. He put just the tip in. Then he made me buck my ass up against him, slide back the way I’d been doing when my back was to the carpet. I had to stretch my ass up against my coccyx to get his cock in just the way he wanted. But to do it the way he wanted I occasionally rubbed my clit against the rug.
When I did I’d jerk and pull his cock out quickly. He made me do it slow. He made me slowly sheathe his cock while I rubbed my clit against the carpet. Then he leaned down and kissed the back of my neck, burying his nose in my hair. That time, when he came I came. He shoved my ass against the ground and my clit dug into the carpet. God, it hurt but it also made my toes curl. That time it felt like I’d orgasmed in my spine.
When Bobby was inside me my toes curled too but they were doing it for the sake of a memory. A memory of that month. I was mad at Bobby suddenly, or myself. I wasn’t a whore. I wasn’t.
But Bobby was done, at least for the next hour. I smiled at him and kissed his cheek. “I need to clean up,” I said.
“Sure, honey.” He pulled out and I rolled off the bed. I unsnapped my pumps and pulled my sweater and dress up over my head. Naked, I left the room and padded down the hall.
With the parents out for the night I could walk nude with impunity. I was suddenly glad to have left my purse downstairs. Quickly I descended the steps and grabbed my purse. I took it with me to the downstairs bathroom and before I could think about it I’d dialed Tom (I told Allison I needed it to give to Beth). He answered on the fourth ring.
“Hey.”
He sounded busy. It was late and he sounded like he’d been up for days. “It’s me,” I said.
He didn’t ask who I was. “What’s wrong?” he said.
“Nothing’s wrong.” Why do they always ask if there’s something wrong? I swallowed. I could feel a trail of drying fluid on my inner thigh. “I want you to tell me what you want to do to me.”
He sighed. “I’m in the middle of something,” he said. “I need this report in by five in the morning.”
“Yeah,” I said, dropping my voice. “But what do you want to do to me?”
He paused. “Where are you right now?”
Don’t tell him Bobby’s over, I thought. “I’m in the bathroom.”
“It’s late.”
“Bobby’s over.”
I heard him shift in his seat, heard what sounded like papers flutter over his desk. “Where’s Bobby?”
“He’s in the bedroom.”
“Is he sleeping?”
“Not yet.”
Another pause. “Have you slept together?”
I didn’t answer. But he could hear me breathing over the phone. “Have you reconsidered my proposal?” he said.
“Which is?”
“Fucking you in the ass.”
I shuddered. “And?”
“And I want you to call your father.”
I leaned my legs against the bathroom cupboard and felt my vagina pulsate. “I don’t know if I can do that,” I said slowly. “Will it hurt?”
“Yes,” he said. “But I’ll be very gentle.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Have I ever hurt you?”
No, he hadn’t. Not ever. “He’ll know,” I whispered. I rubbed the back of my neck, where he liked to kiss me. I let my fingers rove over my chest, and cupped my breast.
“Do you want him to know?”
“No,” I whispered. Was that true? I dragged my fingers down the indentation of my abdominals, down over my bellybutton. “How will you do it?”
I heard him shift again. Was he turning away from the desk? Was he picturing me? “I’d undress you.”
“You’d undress me?”
“Yes, this time. I’d kiss your breasts.” I closed my eyes and inserted a finger in my snatch. I was wet again. “Then I’d lay you back on the bed and use the KY on your breasts, massage your chest, your stomach…”
“KY?” I said.
“We’d need a lot of lube to put it inside you.”
“Inside my ass?” I gasped. I rubbed my clit with my thumb.
“I’d turn you over.”
“Uh huh?”
“I’d have to play with your ass for a bit, to get you ready.”
“Would you kiss me?”