A Terrible Whore

I found myself crossing my legs and blushing. Maybe I was even a little horny. Which was weird, really, because he was a client, and the idea of cumming for him was more than a little weird.

I picked up my phone. I didn't feel right asking for more money. I was happy with what he was giving me. Besides, if he managed to make me orgasm... oh shit, I was blushing at the mere thought of that...oh hell.

No extra charge

Dean found that hilarious. He sent me several laughing emojis, followed with a short message

We'll make a whore of you yet Alexa!!

****************

The following day Elise rang me at lunchtime to see if I could take her to a friend's house after work so they could watch a movie and have a sleepover. I told her to give me five minutes, and in that five minutes I rang Dean and explained the situation.

'Are you telling me you can spend more than an hour at my place because you won't need to rush home to your daughter?' he asked.

'I suppose I am,' I agreed. 'But I won't get to your house till around seven, seven thirty. Is that okay?'

'Fuck, that sounds fine. Fucking perfect, actually. I remembered the Moscato, and we can order a pizza and fuck while we wait for it to be delivered.'

'It's really not a problem?' I asked.

'Alexa, your daughter wants something and I want something, and both somethings work together,' he said matter-of-factly. 'I'll see you when I see you.'

That night, I took Alexa to her friend's house. I gave her fifty dollars, more than I would normally ever dream of giving her, but I knew she was in pain with her braces and I thought 'why not?'. Then I went back home, showered and changed into jeans, heels and a cute top, and drove to Dean's house.

It had just passed eight o'clock when I arrived. I almost ran up the stairs, my heels clattering on the wooden steps, the dogs barking and rushing to the door.

Dean yelled at the dogs to fuck off and give me room, all the while ushering me inside. He was wearing yet more boardshorts with a black singlet, and he'd had his hair cut that week.

'Sorry,' I apologised.

'Don't be. I finished work at lunchtime today and after I spoke to you, I went and laid down for a few hours' kip.'

'Tired?'

'Tired and fucked off with the world,' he said. 'Idiot clients... fuck me, I've had some doozies this week. People not paying on time. Shit breaking down. I dunno, you don't need to listen to me whinge, and I don't really want to think about work now that you're here.'

'I know what you mean,' I replied. 'I have days where I wonder why I bothered getting out of bed.'

His lips brushed against my cheek. 'You look beautiful. You're unbelievably sexy, you know that? I keep waiting for the text to tell me you won't be coming around again.'

'That won't happen. Elise got braces this week. I need to keep paying them off.'

It was only after the words were out of my mouth that I realised I'd given Elise's 'real' name. That hadn't been intentional; I hadn't even told Dean my real name.

Dean noticed my error but didn't comment on it. Instead, he pulled out his phone, opened the Dominos app and handed it over.

'What's your favourite pizza?' he asked.

I took his phone. It was encased in a heavy protective case that had a few chunks missing, and there was a smear of something - presumably concrete - on the screen. The contents of a phone will tell you a lot about someone. How many friends he had, what porn he watched, how much money is in his bank account. But I looked at none of it, even though he wasn't watching me. I stayed on the Dominos app and scrolled through the options. There were a lot of pizzas that I'd never tried before.

'There are a lot of choices these days,' I remarked. 'What do you normally get?'

'I make my own with pepperoni, mozzarella, olives, capsicum, onion, pineapple and cheese.'

'Pineapple?' I wrinkled my nose. 'I was going to just get a salad and pinch a slice of yours, but obviously that isn't going to work.'

Dean walked not the kitchen. 'Sweetheart, there are many things I'm prepared to give you, but a slice of my pizza isn't one of them. Order the salad and pick a pizza. Whatever you don't eat I'll finish off tomorrow.'

I perused the pizza options as I followed him. 'You sounded very ominous there. Not a fan of sharing food?'

He opened the fridge. 'I don't know anyone gets the idea that that sort of bullshit is acceptable, but in this house, if it's on my plate it's mine and if it's on your plate it's yours and there are no ifs, buts or maybes about it.'

'Is that why you bought me Moscato?'

Dean chuckled. 'I'm not so bad that I wouldn't offer a guest a beer, but if you ever suggest sharing a tallie with me, I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline.' He pulled a bottle from the fridge. 'Drink?'

'Please.' I handed him his phone. 'Can I have any of the chicken ones please? You pick whichever one you want to eat leftover the next morning.'

'You reckon you could put the order in for me please? It'll take you half the time it takes me.' He opened my bottle of wine. 'I have a pretty cracking case of dyslexia.'

'Which is?' I asked.

'I can't read well,' he replied gruffly. 'Can't read well, can't write well, my whole fucking brain works weirdly.'

'Oh, no worries,' I replied.

He watched me very carefully as he poured me a glass of wine. It seemed he was checking to see if I was judging him. I ordered a chicken pizza, then set about ordering his, being careful not to meet his eye. Frankly, I wasn't judging him, I was judging myself, for being so quick to look down my nose at his poor spelling.

'You want me to remind me what monstrosities you believe belong on a pizza?' I asked.

'Monstrosities?' he asked, a grin tugging at his lips.

'Monstrosities,' I agreed.

'You know, I wanted the whole girlfriend experience but I didn't realise getting shit heaped on me was part of the bargain.'

I smiled at him, knowing he was joking. 'Consider it one of those freebies I throw in.'

Dean shook his head at me and tried not to smile, as he pulled out his tobacco and rolled himself a cigarette.

I started laughing.

'Oh, fuck off,' he swore, giving in to his smile. 'I'm paying to screw someone who doesn't eat pineapple on pizza, and on top of that, she laughs at me.'

He had a beautiful smile. Beautiful teeth, blue eyes that lit up, and the genuine warmth of his personality made him a nice person to be around.

~~~~~~~~

Dean gave me his credit card to pay for the pizza. I put in the order, it arrived, and we ate together, with the dogs hovering at our feet. Or, should I say, my feet. Dean hadn't been kidding when he said he didn't share his food.

He offered me another drink after dinner but I declined, knowing I'd have to drive home at some point. It was already nine o'clock and I wanted to leave before midnight.

Dean glanced at my feet. 'You've changed the nail polish on your toes.'

'Dark purple,' I agreed. 'Do you like it?'

'Yeah, I do.'

Dean picked up a foot and started rubbing it. He really wasn't the best kisser, but damn he was magic with his hands. And I was growing more comfortable with him, not simply because this was our third time together, but because his words and actions were proving him to be an altogether different kettle of fish to my ex.

I was eighteen when I met Carl. He was thirty-five. Right from the get-go he was manipulating me. I tried to break things off after our second date and he complained that he'd 'invested' in me and I owed him a third date. Thinking that he just wanted sex, we went on a third date so I could fuck him before telling him to fuck off. Only, I never broke things off. He made me feel bad, guilty. Why had I slept with him if I didn't want to date him? Why go on a third date with him?

I'd dated two men since our divorce. Both relationships had been short lived, but I hesitate to call them 'failures' because although the men and I weren't suited, they gave me a glimpse of what a normal man was like. See, sometimes I'd get caught up thinking that maybe I was a horrible person, or maybe what transpired between Carl and me was my fault, but those two men helped fix that, and Dean only cemented it.

Four men and I'd slept with, and if any one of them was to treat me like shit, you'd imagine it would be Dean.

'Do you regularly give sex workers foot rubs?' I asked.

'Nope,' he replied. 'Well, sometimes, but it depends on how much I like their feet and what I'm prepared to pay.'

I wriggled my toes. 'Out of curiosity, what does it cost if you want to touch their feet?'

'Twenty to fifty dollars. One quoted me two hundred.' He shrugged. 'I said not to worry about it. If someone's putting that sort of price on it, they think you're a freak.'

'I upped my price when you said you wanted kissing and to touch my feet.'

'True, but you were quoting way too low initially, so it didn't bother me.'

'I didn't think a hundred a week was too bad. All I wanted was money to pay off my daughter's braces. That would have covered it.'

'I'm surprised you didn't have all sorts of fuckwits contacting you.'

'I did,' I admitted. 'One offered me fifty. That's actually why I quoted you such a high price. I was pissed off.'

Dean laughed humourlessly as he did something with my toes that felt goddamn amazing.

'Is it bad form to drool?' I asked.

He ducked his head and laughed. 'Here I am, thinking that you're thinking that I'm crazy, and you're worried about drooling. Take your jeans off if you want, beautiful, and I'll do your legs as well.'

'Jeans, or jeans and undies?'

'Whatever you want.'

I very nearly said 'you're paying' when it occurred to me that what he wanted was for me to make a choice. I settled for taking my jeans off and leaving my knickers on.

Dean approved, I could see it in his eyes, but he didn't say anything. He kept rubbing my feet and legs and rather than say or do anything, I let him take the lead. I was tired, but in a pleasant, relaxed sort of way. Pizza, wine, and a foot massage was a lovely combination. Not wearing my jeans was a bonus.

'You're smiling,' Dean said.

'Am I?' I blushed. 'I'm unexpectedly happy. That's probably why I'm smiling.'

'Would taking you to bed make you more or less happy?'

'More happy.'

I pulled my feet out of his lap and stood up. Dean stood up, scooped me up, and carried me over his shoulder into the bedroom. The last time I'd been picked up, I'd been a small child, and I screeched at him to be careful. Dean just patted my bum and told me he would never do anything to hurt me.

Despite my misgivings, we made it safely into his bedroom. He placed me diagonally his bed, spread my legs, and knelt in between them. I was still in my knickers, bra and top. Dean was in his boardies and shirt, but he removed his shirt and threw it over the side of the bed.

He went straight for one of my feet. He traced his fingers over the sole, causing me to yank it back and giggle. He smiled at me and had another attempt at playing with it. This time his touch was much firmer and while it was still ticklish, it wasn't unbearable.

Very slowly, he kissed his way from my toes to my ankle, my knee, thigh, and all the way up to my underwear. He kissed me through the fabric and I shivered with pleasure. I reached down and brushed my hands through his hair. Dean kissed me several more times, his breath hot, but he made no move to pull my knickers to the side.

Last week I'd been worried about being aroused by him, but I'd had some time to consider it, and had decided it was silly to concern myself with what was obviously a very natural reaction to someone I was - as strange as it was - attracted to. And I felt safe around him, so very safe and protected. I knew if I ever asked him to stop, he would, even though he was paying for what he was getting.

Dean sucked and kissed me through the material until the fabric was wet not only with his saliva, but with my natural juices. I knew he could taste me by the way he was reacting, but he still wasn't making any move to remove my underwear.

I reached down and moved the gusset of my underwear to the side, exposing my swollen sex. I grabbed the back of Dean's head and pulled him against me. A groan escaped my mouth and I clamped my thighs tight around his neck as his tongue flicked against my clit.

I writhed beneath him, my fingers knotting in his hair, moving him in time with me until I could feel my climax building. I pushed my shirt and bra up and reached for a breast, pinching the nipple between my fingers. Dean glanced up just in time to see what I was doing and let out a muffled groan.

'Don't stop,' I begged. 'Please don't stop.'

Dean slipped a few fingers into my pussy by way of an answer. I cried out and began to twist, moving his head this way and that, smothering and abusing him, forgetting that he was the client and that this wasn't about me.

It was all about me as I cried out his name in orgasm, Dean, Dean, Dean, drawing him up tight against me as I lifted my hips off the bed.

As my climax faded away, I released my grip on him and stared at the ceiling half in shock and half in exhilaration. He was a lousy kisser but there was no denying the tongue action, when applied to my nether regions, had bought about some pretty spectacular sensations.

'Sorry,' I mumbled.

Dean kissed my thighs, one by one. 'Fuck, Alexa, you really came.'

'I really did,' I agreed.

He sat up, and got in position so I could clearly see his cock pressing against his boardshorts. He gestured to it wordlessly.

'Should I return the favour?' I asked. 'Should I suck you?'

'I reckon I'm going to cum pretty quickly.'

'I'll try and slow it down for you.' I sat up and took off my top and bra. 'Come here.'

Dean didn't need to be asked twice. His hands moved to my tits and he gave me a deep, probing kiss, sharing with me the taste of myself. I reached down and loosened his boardshorts. His prick sprung free, stiff as can be and mottled dark red, the head wet with pre-cum. I held it carefully in my hands, amazed at how hard he was.

Dean finally broke the kiss.

'That's what making you cum did to me,' he muttered. 'I thought I was going to explode when you smothered me with your cunt.'

My cheeks burned red with embarrassment.

'Oh sweetheart, you're so beautiful,' he said. 'I'll be thinking about you cumming all week.'

I didn't know how to respond. I gently massaged his cock while kissing his jaw, his neck, and his shoulders. We shifted position; Dean laid down on his back, and I knelt over him, kissing his chest. He inhaled sharply when my lips brushed against a nipple. I wondered if it felt good to him, and kissed it again to see what sort of reaction I'd get.

It was a very positive reaction, to put it mildly. I kept kissing and nibbling his chest while reaching down for his cock. Dean writhed and groaned beneath me, pushing his prick harder and harder into my hand as he grew more aroused.

'Suck me,' he requested. 'Please. Suck me. I'm about to cum.'

I hopped between his legs and took his erection in one hand and his balls in the other. I leant down and started sucking him, my tongue slipping over the velvety head of his cock while my hand cradled his nuts.

Dean had his hands on my shoulders and was groaning and gasping. Suddenly his breathing changed, he became jerky in his movements and his fingers dug into my flesh.

'Slow,' he cried. 'Slow, I'm about to blow. Just take it really slow.'

No sooner had the words escaped him than he let out a bestial cry. Jism erupted from his cock, filling my mouth and spilling out the sides. I couldn't remember the last time I'd sucked a man, and I don't think I'd ever enjoyed it before, but I loved doing this for Dean.

The moment he finished climaxing, he started laughing under his breath. 'Oh fuck, Alexa,' he panted. 'That was even better than I thought it was going to be.'

Mercifully, rather than waiting for me to reply, he handed me a box of tissues. I spat as discreetly as I could, wiped my mouth, and shuffled up alongside him. He pulled me into a hug, so that my head was on his chest and his arm was wrapped around me.

We laid together for what seemed an incredibly long, yet intensely pleasurable, period of time. He kept rubbing my arm and kissing the top of my head. I listened to his heart beat, kissed his chest and caressed his belly. Beneath it, his cock lay limp, content to be idle.

The night was quiet, and all I could hear was the sound of the dog's snoring in the lounge room and the hum of his air conditioner.

Eventually, he stopped rubbing me and his breathing deepened. I wriggled out of his arms and saw that he'd fallen asleep. I felt almost maternal as I watched him in his slumber. I wondered what his family was like, and if they knew he slept with prostitutes. I wondered if they'd tried to find him a wife.

I pulled on my bra, underwear and shirt, then flicked off the bedroom light. My jeans and shoes were still in the kitchen. The dogs stirred when I came out, but neither bothered to even get off the couch. The pizza that we'd left on the table, however, had 'disappeared' and I put that down to the contented little mutts that had been left in the same room, unsupervised, with the pies. I hoped Dean wouldn't mind.

I slipped from the house feeling oddly disappointed that the night was already over. In another world, I would happily have stayed and spent the night in Dean's arms. He really wasn't as bad as he'd first seemed. Rough, sure, but he was a good guy. He treated me well, and he didn't have any qualms about paying my fee, and that was more than enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the following five or six weeks, Carl became more and more troublesome. He'd phone me at work, on my employer's phone line, not because he didn't have my mobile number, because he did, but because he wanted to intimidate me. I would arrive home from work to find him inside my apartment with Elise 'waiting for me'. He quizzed our daughter about my love life, my finances and my mental health. He didn't pay a cent towards her upkeep, but he felt entitled to dictate to me how to raise her.

At night, I dreamed of killing him. During the day, I found it impossible to eat, and I grew teary and easily upset. I missed a week with Dean. He said it was okay, these things happened, but he didn't know why I cancelled. He didn't know it was because Carl was keeping a close eye on me, and I was terrified he'd find out about what I was doing to pay for our daughter's braces.

But the worst part, the absolute worst part was when Elise came home from an outing with him in a strange mood. I asked her what was wrong. She replied 'nothing', an answer she repeated when I asked her again later that evening. But two days later she randomly burst out crying and said 'he scares me. He just won't leave me alone.'

'I'm sorry,' I replied stiffly. 'I can tell him you're busy next time he comes around.'

'But he says he's lonely and heartbroken over you leaving him, and he says he still loves you, and he loves me, and I feel bad,' she wept. 'That's what he said when I asked him to give me some space because I had a project I needed to work on. And I did have a project, and now I think I'm going to fail because he kept messaging me after he went home, and...'

In between tears and jumbled words and much confusion and angst, I quickly managed to get the gist of what she was saying, as well as the details.

'Mum,' Elise said desperately. 'Why did he used to have to visit me at McDonalds? And why doesn't he have to do it anymore?'