Flower on the Hook Pt. 01

When it was all said and done, there were far worse ways to wake up than buck-ass naked with a used condom leaking down one cheek. Chris knew from experience that if she didn't end up having to get a haircut from the night's activities it was like water under the bridge. A nice wad of assorted bills stuffed into her sleeping hand meant she wouldn't even have to waste time extracting payment.

What had that guy's name been again? He'd looked confident enough, must have worked out, but he introduced himself with an obviously fake name right at the start. John?

Chris didn't care especially much, she had enough dates who didn't feel like giving her a name in the first place. That said, she would be adding to the bill next time for leaving the condom on her face if he wasn't too much of a coward to use her services again.

Her back hurt and her ass still burned from the pounding he'd given her, gone at it hard for the full hour and had to extend the date since he wasn't able to finish in time. Eventually, she'd taken something from an unmarked bottle and told him to leave the money when he was done. That she'd fallen asleep on the futon rather than in her real bed didn't help things.

John had been that guy, Corey, his friend, hadn't he? The web of contacts wasn't a physical list she could check but it did pay to know where her paychecks were coming from. Corey himself was a little creep, five feet of anger issues in a trenchcoat but he paid without complaint and sent roses besides, which immediately went into the trash.

In fact, on seeing his gifts in her kitchen trash, Chris was fairly sure the little dude popped a boner. Thinking about it, she thought she'd try shoving something up his ass next time he came around. Pegging wasn't her thing but it wasn't exhausting in the same way getting reamed herself was.

Wiping the crust from her eyes, Chris hauled her creaking self up to attention and finally discarded the condom into the pile of who gave a shit in the corner. It was a chilly morning leading into the spring as the goosebumps along her skin and glass-cutting nipples could attest. After making a deposit in her mouth, the landlord had promised to get the heat working in her shitshack; wouldn't his wife like to know how the rent on that unit was paid? Such things didn't happen immediately, she knew, but ground her teeth in frustration anyway.

Next time, maintenance first, blowjob after.

Breakfast, or brunch as it may have been since she realized she'd been asleep nearly until noon, consisted of a cold piece of pizza that would begin walking around in her fridge if she didn't get to it fast and a lemon soda for a hangover which oddly enough she wasn't having for once. Thus ended her non-alcoholic stores.

Did most other people fill out a fridge? She found it hard to find enough of what she liked to get it half full for a week. Other people must have simply been hungrier than her.

Shivering, she caught a whiff of herself. Sweat and cum, what she thought her nose would be numb to by that point, but still...

The boiler was in fact working and Chris was soon able to leave the chilly air behind for a skin-reddeningly hot shower. Soap took care of the crusted up cum on her skin and melted dried lube down the drain. She shoved a finger up her stinging asshole to rub out some of the last bits of lube and wished masturbation would do anything for her anymore as she waggled a finger against the walls of her ass. Nope, nothing good, it just ached all the way through her belly and against her bottom ribs.

Then and there, she decided that she wouldn't arrange any more dates for the day, take one off for a change to rest and recoup on some sleep. It did take a while to recall what day it actually was, but the lack of clomping around by her neighbors upstairs meant it had to at least be a weekday.

And those bastards had the nerve to complain about a rotating door of "boyfriends" going on downstairs? Did Chris go to their places of business and stomp around?

Well, once, but just to prove a point. A couple of creampies in the back of a car dealership later and her neighbor in the corner got awfully quiet until the husband was seen leaving with a suitcase full of his shit and a bruise in the shape of a frying pan.

Chris chuckled into the spray of hot water, good times.

She was loath to step out of the warm mist, but knew her cheapass landlord got the worst boiler on the market and she had to get out before it cut out completely and chilled her to the bone. So, wrapping her damp self in the fluffiest towel she owned, Chris got out and made a mad dash to the bedroom where she kept some actually warm clothes with proper coverage.

This room at least smelled reasonable. She closed the door against the wave of garbage and sour cumstains and breathed a sigh of relief in her little sanctuary. An automatic oil diffuser puffed from the wall socket as if in greeting its master, fighting the good fight against the pervasive odor that had claimed the rest of her apartment. Perhaps it was this burst of rose that kept her nose from adjusting to her lifestyle, but whatever.

Even if that was the case, her mild disgust, unspoken of and cowering in the corner, was one of the only things she could eke pleasure out from anymore. What was left after so many dates to look forward to? Nobody had come up with a new way of humping as far as she could tell, and she'd had the sampler platter.

Outside of mom's control, Chris draped a blanket over her shoulders which would serve well for cuddling and picked up woolen long johns which were not, as the woman would have said, dowdy and unappealing.

Chris slapped herself in the face to get rid of that mental image. Mother wasn't there anymore and there was no reason to keep picturing the bitch.

Returning to the living room to "rest" on the futon with daytime television, she saw that her phone, left in the one clean spot on the floor, was blinking with a text.

'Hello,' it said, 'I got this number in a bathroom, are you really a prostitute? Can I arrange for an appointment today between five and seven PM?'

Not one of her regulars, they were smart enough not to leave a paper trail. Probably not a cop either, they already knew all about her and either tacitly approved or didn't give a shit if she worked in their town.

"A virgin." Chris scoffed. How long had it been since she'd popped a cherry? It was always refreshing to see that look of gratitude on a man who didn't have any better options than her. "Guess he won't be brave enough to ask for anal..."

She typed back, 'We can hang out around then, sure. You know where?'

The response came so quickly that the virgin was sure to have been leaning over their phone since sending the first one. 'Yes, it was also on the wall where I saw your number. Sorry but I had to scrub all of it off the wall since we're preparing for the freshmen coming in this spring.'

'Sure, whatever. Bring a hundred and we'll hang out for an hour, cool?'

'Of course, would you like the money in small bills or would you take a check?'

Chris pinched her nose. 'I srsly don't care, just have it one you.'

'Yes, thank you for your time, ma'am.'

That was that, considerably more formal than most of her dates. Some goodie-two-shoes who would volunteer to clean dorm bathrooms at the local college it sounded like. These days, most of her dates were a single text saying they were going to be there soon or a knock on the door, and she'd resisted change despite the scheduling difficulties it presented. To wit, men arriving while she was with a previous date and being unwilling to wait his turn.

Chris found that such a situation resolved well enough with a coin flip to take dibs on holes. Sure, made it a bit more difficult to arrange a day off, but turning off the ringer and latching the door was good enough for that, if she did have to endure some frustrated knocking.

And she had planned on doing just that, becoming a vegetable in the living room, but fucking a virgin was already like taking a break. She would meet him half dressed at the door, strip on the way to the futon, and if he was lucky he'd get a few pumps in before busting his nut. Not many of them ended up using the full hour.

With five hours left before her date, Chris settled in front of the tv and let it drone on while she took a nap.

A phone alarm woke her at four and in her dozy state she went to get something to drink out of the fridge. As it turned out, the only thing left was a bottle of imported shit she'd been given and hadn't yet given out enough to get rid of it. She hated the idea of walking out to the corner shop for something palatable on her pseudo day off, but she would have to put on clothes at some point either way after all.

Daisy dukes were the choice she'd settled on for her date with the virgin, but there was no way she would be exposing her bare legs to the windchill when there were already goosebumps on her skin standing inside. Sweats it was and a sweatshirt for good measure.

On the very first step outside, she realized that running shoes weren't the best choice for the trip, but it was only five minutes both ways and sucked it up with chilled toes.

The neighbors knew damn well who she was and what she did, the novelty had worn off over the years so nobody craned their necks to get a look. It wasn't approval or acceptance, but once the cops have been called and done nothing a half dozen times already, they'd been faced with the choices of let it go or leave. For her part, Chris ignored the wives' heads shaking as she passed a couple on the stairs.

She resisted the urge to tell them if they'd spent half as much time working out as gossiping, they would still be attractive enough for their husbands that there wouldn't be any problem with wandering eyes. Chris' own twice weekly exercise along with plenty of "alternative activity" had done wonders for her waist. It was jealousy, plain and simply that they didn't cut the same stylish figure as the hooker next door even with that month's fad diet.

Rush hour had stopped traffic near the corner as Chris entered the shop. It was funny to her how these people would have thought their jobs were more important than hers but here they were stuck in bumper to bumper traffic just like every other weekday while that was her second clue that it was, in fact, a weekday. She might have blown a kiss or winked at the cars just to see what reaction she could get, but today a little, irritable bug was squatting in the corner of her head so she just headed inside.

"Hey Jimmy." she said, waving offhandedly to the cashier and catching the start of a blush while she crossed over to the booze. She'd seen him a few times a week since he started working there at a couple of years ago, gave him a free blowie in the back room as a birthday present when he turned eighteen. Sweet guy, too sweet to make use of her since then. She set a pack of bottles and a twelve-pack down for the guy to scan, not enough for a full weekend but she didn't feel like heavy lifting. "How's it going with Twiggy?" she asked.

He was making a conscious effort not to stare at the swell of her chest just as she was making an effort to thrust it toward him over the counter. He said, "S-she quit a few weeks ago."

"Too bad," Chris was truly leaning in, belly creased on the counter's edge, and patted his cheek. "She doesn't know what she's missing, but did you at least rock her socks once or are you still a cherry boy?"

He resembled a tomato so much that Chris had to purse her lips to keep from laughing in his face. "Um, no. We weren't ever really dating, she said... I tried to kiss her one and she kinda made this face, you know. So that's, yeah..."

Chris couldn't help but laugh a little through her nose and she caught him shaking a little. "D'aww~ That's young love for you, isn't it? Wanna go by her house with me on your arm, let her see what a player you turned out to be?"

"I don't think that would work."

"Well yeah, I think she did see me a few times." Chris made no effort to pick up her items since there wasn't anyone else waiting to be served and she was having too much fun. "I got a wig, you know? Some guys like brunettes after all. How about it, twenty bucks for a few passes to make sure she sees how well you're getting on without her and I'll throw in a nice, deep kiss for good measure." She punctuated the offer with a lingering lick across her lips that she made sure he would see.

She wished the other side of the counter was transparent so she could see the guy's frustrated stiffy straining his tight jeans.

He said, "That's not going to win her back. What am I saying, 'back'? She was never with me anyway. Anyway, I have a long time to find someone else."

Chris clapped his shoulder. "That's the spirit! Don't worry about it, you nerdy guys always peak later anyway. Just make sure you look her back up once you're set up in your thirties and she's a single mother, then pump and dump. You're too good for her after all."

Jimmy's mood seemed to brighten. Then, as Chris was about to grab her stuff, she suddenly grabbed the hem of her sweatshirt and let him know in no uncertain terms that she'd chosen to go commando, taking her things and fleeing before he could get a word in edgewise.

What had Twiggy's name actually been? Didn't matter much when you could say the word Twiggy and everyone would know exactly who you were talking about. It hadn't occurred to Chris that the homely thing would string along poor Jimmy, but he was the type who needed to make his own mistakes in the dating scene. At some point, Chris had to think she was doing him a favor by acclimating him to the naked, female form.

More importantly, it was an easy and accessible form of fun.

But her heightened mood didn't last long. Ascending the stairs with an open can, Chris saw someone standing at her door, timidly knocking.

It was a thin, young woman with straight, black hair in a cardigan and a long skirt. A backpack hung from her left hand in tight fingers and she was flitting her head back and forth, but that didn't help her see Chris approach despite being in the definite field of view. Too nervous to see straight?

Chris leaned into the girl's space, up to her ear and shouted, "Oy!"

The girl jumped back, hitting her ass on the railing and clutching a hand to her chest as if she were having a heart attack.

"Well? Got business here or what?" Chris stepped past and unlocked the door, placing herself so she could slam it in the girl's face at a moment's notice. "You one of those from miss Bledsoe upstairs? I already told you people I'm not going on Sunday or any other day, but now I'm fixing to come in a g-string and a towel to see if your pastor can keep his eyes to himself!"

"Umm, I-" the girl squeaked.

"Gotta speak up, churchmouse. Or what, I took your boyfriend 'r something? Could give you some pointers on what he likes for a fiver if you're willing to get up to some sick shit." Chris' words had a backing of laughter. She watched the girl turn bright red, clutching at the strap of her bag like it was the only thing tethering her to decency, eyes trained on her toes. "Who knows, it might be one of the guys who just comes here to sniff my ass, or that one that loves getting kicked in the balls. Bet'cha even a skinny thing like you could satisfy one of those freaks if that's what you wanted."

"That's not-"

"Ooh, it might end up being that older guy who likes me putting out cigarettes on his thighs. Guess you'd have to take up smoking, 'less that's your dad or something. Not that I care if you two were shacking up." This was too much fun, Chris wondered if she could get a blood vessel to pop in the girl's nose from the pressure. "C'mon, you can tell me. What's up?"

The girl swallowed and forced herself to meet Chris' gaze. "I'm here for an appointment..." she managed.

"What?"

"I know I'm somewhat early, but class ended and this is when I could get here by bus. I'm sorry for any inconvenience, but could I come inside?"

Unusual, but not so much that Chris was taken aback, she waved the girl inside and threw the deadbolt behind them. The sound of it startled the girl, but she continued, clutching herself tight enough that something might have snapped inside. She looked upon the state of the apartment, obviously disconcerted by the mounds of garbage and the background scent of old sweat and cumstains: the scent taken up by an athletic sock hidden under a man's mattress. Quietly and uncertain, she cleared off the clutter on top of a stool and took a pert seat, care taken not to touch too much else.

Chris dropped her sweats to the girl's shock, threw off the sweatshirt as casually. The girl's fingers held a tight clump of skirt and her eyes kept stealing peeks of Chris' nudity, flitting away in embarrassment.

"Alright, you got the two hundred?" Chris said.

The girl reached into her bag, but paused and seemed confused. "Didn't you say it would cost one hundred?"

"Thought you were a guy. Price went up."

"But I only..." the girl stuttered, "I took out a hundred dollar bill. Why is it cheaper for a man?"

"I like men." Chris approached and the girl shied away from the bare flesh as she plunged her hand into the bag and retrieved the crisp bill herself. "Ha, went to the bank for this or what?"

"An ATM. Are you sure it will be so much?"

Cute, sure, but business was business after all. "Tell you what, half hour for this. Deal?"

"Ah, yes." She seemed disappointed, but half an hour was more than enough time to get her off, Chris thought, more bang for the buck. "I'm Bernadotte, and I understand your name is Chris?" she said, the formality of it giving a little more strength to her voice. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance." The disgust she hid behind that smile wasn't well camouflaged but Chris let it go without comment.

Instead, she leaned in close enough that the girl had to bend away so their tits wouldn't meet, reached over her shoulder to tuck away the bill in a stack of unopened mail on the counter behind. Then she retreated, letting the girl think there had been a kiss or somesuch on the way and yanking it away. The poor thing was literally shaking from the anticipation and they hadn't so much as touched yet, would she cum with a kiss?

"I'm not saying that whole name every time, Dot." Chris smirked. She ran her palm down the curve of her body acting like it was normal stretching, squishing a boob on the way and achieving rapt attention. "Well, clock's ticking. Whadda you want?"

Dot squirmed atop the stool, if only she knew some of the things that had happened there she wouldn't be so keen to rub her little ass against it.

"I-is anything okay?" Dot asked, burning ten precious seconds.

Continuing her 'stretch' while showing a gratuitous amount of ass, Chris said, "Not gonna do anything that leaves a mark, 'less you wanna shell out a couple more hundred? Most anything else's fine. Want me to piss on ya or spit in your mouth?"

The squirming intensified as if Dot were seriously considering such degeneracy. That's it, good girl, Chris goaded in her mind, let your fantasies race by. More likely a virgin like her would be the same as a virgin like Jimmy, too frightened of the act to ask for any more than a handjob.

She brightened inside at the scene in her mind, cajoling Jimmy until she was able to get his pants down to his ankles and push him to sit on top of a milk crate to slurp him up. He didn't cry, but Chris always thought she could have pressed hard enough to make him.

Burning another half minute in deep thought, Dot finally responded, "I think... it would be more appropriate to have normal intercourse for my first time..."

"Normal, eh?" Chris took the chance to take the girl's cheek in her hand. In that cold room, the contact was hot as hell. She put on a slower, seductive tone to say, "Dot, you gotta be more specific to get what you want. I could lick you all over, we could scissor, or I've got some strapons I could slam inside your pussy." They got disinfected with each use, she wasn't a monster, but Chris let Dot have the idea of the plastic cocks being used already on indiscriminate asses.