Night Peril

Chapter 4

I return home after being tag-teamed for $1500. I sat atop my friend’s body taking one c**k in my bottom and being pounded in the v****a by his friend. Double penetration. Stuffed in both holes like a dirty, filthy slut. I orgasmed about fifteen times.

I head straight into the shower to wash their bodily fluids off of my skin. Both of them leaked salty, sticky c*m on my forehead they had me write “w***e” across in eyeliner. Thankfully, none of them had a fetish for peeing on women.

I soap my body in my favorite shower gel, rubbing til the bubbles are giant. I blow on them, watching them fly up into the air only to get popped by the shower water. I giggle.

This is my hooker wind-down meditation. Every one of us has one that often takes place in the shower, where we remove all mental preparation for selling our bodies and save it for later. You have two mindsets when you do s*x work: yourself and your inner s*x worker who comes out and does autopilot. One of those mindsets we save for work, obviously.

My final mission is to get to sleep. I push all memories of tonight out of my head and pull down my silk sleep mask.

—

I wake up to a notification on my phone.

-

Saw you with another man. Glad you’ve found happiness

-

I quickly texted back, angry at what I was reading. I recognized the number immediately as I don’t forget names and addresses easily.

-

You have the wrong number. I am a single mother of 2. Have a good night.

-

Bing.

I read the response, my lips following along with the text.

-

You know who this is, Sasha. Enjoy your night.

-

Bastard. I want nothing to do with him. Richard Brooke. The professor who nearly swept me off my feet and backed out for an ex. I don’t even think he realizes how valueless he made me look that day.

I don’t care about how he is doing. I shut off my phone screen and go back to bed, blocking the number. I am furious at the audacity. I want to drag my keys across the passenger door of his stupid black Maserati. Just because he has the selfish gull to contact me after seeing me with one of my clients.

Oh.

I never told him I was a w***e previously.

Either way, no man edges himself into a woman’s life making such a profoundly piggish move. I am a fool for thinking he was ever a gentleman.

It is just another day at the office.

I finish off a female client with my wet mouth, repeatedly kissing her sweet spot until she is shaking and moaning out, “I’m coming” several times. Women take less effort. They don’t expect rimjobs. They pay whatever you ask for and not try to open a silly dispute as a first customer trying to keep their money to themselves. Cheapskates exist in places they have no need to be.

I wrap up in going down on her once she no longer desires any more favours.

Today, I am planning out my execution at re-entering Richard’s life. He is going to fall in love with me and I will willingly marry him. I will wait nine months to divorce him and take half his finances, leaving him with the burden of being broke again. Or maybe not. Maybe half his finances is enough to continue living off of – either way, I’m ensuring he loses in a court situation to me. He will live every day with regret having been played by a woman he crossed a year before.

I unblock his number to type out an invasive text.

-

How are things with the ex?

-

Two can play at the “give me information” game.

Ding.

-

No one in the picture. Things didn’t work out, if that’s what you are asking.

-

I leer at the screen. Has someone already beat me to lighting up his world and dumping water all over the place? I grit my teeth as I type my next message.

-

I’m sorry. It sounded promising from your end the last time we spoke.

-

His next message is instant.

-

Some things are for the best.

-

I have no interest in continuing this conversation. I hit “call” instead.

He answers sounding happy. We talk for about a half hour about recent life events and whatnot. At the end of our call, I propose we meet up to get coffee. I almost feel guilty for leading him on but remember the reason behind this. He impregnated and ditched me.

I take a deep breath. I promise myself I’m not manic. My commitment is for pure revenge. I will not screw this up feeling bad for anyone.

-

I sit across from him the next afternoon, observing his blue eyes and crooked canine teeth. Being the healthnut he is, he ordered a decaf. He sips it as he listens to me go on about my art. My contemporary art.

This is a day I’m going to remember. The day I put effort into avenging the man who disturbed my mourning and journey to peace after loss.

We part ways but that is not the end of our communication. If I know anything about pursuing men, they love to be pursued first. They hate putting effort into women who already have several men around her. Which I do, but he doesn’t need to know that.

I sit in the front seat of my SUV watching him get into his car. He checks his phone screen before opening the door to get in. I laugh. He is still pursuing other women.

My only intention is to make him mine and make him suffer. He disturbed my peace first. Then disturbed it again by insulting my independence. He deserves what he has coming to him.

My only concern is getting him to settle down. If he isn’t tied down to me emotionally due to contact with several women, I need to ensure I am the one getting through to his heart and p***s the most. He is a desperate man if attention from a past lover isn’t enough for him. Desperate men were the easiest.

I am rimming Richard. He moans like a submissive.

I must capture his soul in the craft of what i’m doing to him. I take his p***s into my hand and run my fingers up his shaft. He quivers as I lick.

I continue my fine work until he is coming all over my hand. His semen smells like fish. The texture is so sticky the c*m rolls up into clots in my hand. So much has changed. These are things I’ve never noticed about him.

When we are finished, he asks me to his. I forgot how blatant he is a person. I oblige, because I have to, making sure my eyes are twinkling when I say, “Yes.” Only that I feel so crippled by disgust.