𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐕.𝟐 .

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐭𝐰𝐨.

* * *

𝟒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓, 𝐝𝐨𝐣𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐭 .

★

┌─⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─┐

𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐭𝐡..

└─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─┘

* * *

𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐚'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐯.

"when can i speak to you next?"

"never" is the immediate words that manifest as an answer to the eager curiosity projected in the man's voice coming from my pink laptop. truthfully, i'm not sure if i should allow him a next time. being that he isn't one of my usual clients, i don't have any obligation to follow up. instead, i merely sweep my hair off my face, readjusting my bang before shrugging.

"send me the payment confirmation and i'll text you." i hum before actually glancing into the screen the man smiles cluelessly into. he's no different from the usual victim- white, silver, and pockets just as heavy as both his bmi or ego- maybe with a family or children, a daughter my age- i don't know, and i don't care to. even if he did, it's not something that concerns me. i'm good at seperating business from morality, but then again i can't quite say i know what that is, or would care to. my computer dings with the confirmation the man sends me without a second thought, so dog-like in his eager advances, unknowing that it's the last time he'll ever see me in my life. a "thank you" is not the first thing that comes to my mind. instead, a subdued smile, a mere expression of curved lips and creasing lines sit upon my glossed lips as i wave my fingers coyly. "we'll talk soon hun."
"can't wait ba-"

i accidentally hang up on the man, letting out a sigh of relief as the skype call collapses and i can rest my body. my shoulders relax as soon as i am truly alone, allowing me absorb the silence that surrounds my room illuminated by dark pink lights that remind me so much of the club i own, gifted to me by yet another man that has come and gone like many others. i've had lots of clients throughout the years- some for three months, some for four years. though today's video-call is enough to let me know i'm no longer seeking a fourth, i keep a good foundation of three consistent clients that I see based on week and day, and i reason that three is more than enough because while i'm paid for it, having sex with people that have no real meaning to me can get exhausting.

sex work is funny that way. i get paid to have the sex i'm not even really wanting to have. still, fucking those three high-luxury, devoted clients are enough to send me into an early-retirment if i desired. it just gets.. draining. i stand from my desk, running my hands over my bare, sore muscles that i can still tire in from going to the gym this morning. i ignore it, staring at my exposed body in the mirror in front of me with a sigh. i may be exhausted,  but my rent is paid for the next two months just from a thirty-minute conversation with my tits out.