Save Me.

Talk.

                I slipped out of the car with two hundred and fifty dollars tucked into my bra. The night was only beginning, and I had already scored. Returning to my corner, I might the indifferent eyes of Candy and Cheyenne. The fraternal twins brought their cigarettes to their lips at the same time, inhaling deeply.

                “He bite?” Candy asked, nodding to my neck.

                I raised a hand to where the irritated skin tingled, nodding slowly. “Yeah, charged him fifty more for that.”

                “Big-O isn’t gonna like that,” Cheyenne muttered under her breath.

                I straightened my stance, brushing her off. She and I had never gotten along. “I don’t care; I still made more from it. It’s my body.”

                “Actually, it’s not.”

                “Whatever,” I scoffed. “Can I have a cig?”

                Candy tossed me one from the pack tucked in her back pocket and pulled a lighter out of her bra. I quickly lit and inhaled. As soon as the nicotine hit my system, I felt my nerves calming down. I took another inhale before I spoke to either woman again.

                “Did anyone come while I was gone?”

                They shook their heads no. “That damn club over there is taking all the attention. I don’t know why he thought this would be a good idea to let that get built.”

                I shrugged, preferring not to talk about the boss.

                A wind picked up slightly, raising goose bumps on my bones. As fall approached, I realized that working was going to become more difficult. Summer was always the easier time to land a deal as the clothes were comfortable and scandalous.

                A black Honda rolled to a stop at the corner. The window rolled down and a man leaned out, eyes trained on me. He nodded for me to approach. I glanced at the other two, raising an eyebrow. Another customer so soon? I wasn’t going to pass up on this opportunity.

                “Hey there, cutie,” I smiled flirtatiously as I wandered over to his car. I leaned my arms on the open window, giving him an award-winning smile. “You lookin’ a little lonely there?”

                “Are you Hanna?” He asked.

                I faltered. “W-what?”

                “Are you Hanna?” He repeated softly.

                “Hanna?” I stumbled over the name. “Wha—No, I’m not Hanna, Sweetie. I’m Jasmine. I can promise you that I’ll be much better than Hanna, though.”

                He raised an eyebrow, but gave me a nod, unlocking the door. I grinned and stomped my cigarette out on the street before opening the door and climbing in. My dress road up my thigh, but I let it go, knowing he’d prefer the sight.

                “So, cutie, where are you taking me?” I asked as he pulled the car into drive and slowly rolled down the street.

                “Somewhere private so we can talk.”

                “Oh,” I winked and giggled, “Right, ‘talk’.”

                 He made no comment, but I could feel the nervousness flowing off him in tidal waves. My newest client must have been inexperienced in the world of priced sex. I was accustomed to silent drives, and preoccupied my mind by watching the scenery flash past.  

                 After what felt like only ten minutes, he pulled into a parking garage. I frowned as he collected a ticket and drove us to a nearly empty level. The man killed the engine and turned to face me. Quickly collecting myself, I unbuckled and began my usual talk.

                “Let’s discuss prices,” I said as I fixed my hair and slid over to his lap. He didn’t protest as I sat a leg on either side of his thighs, nestling on his manhood. My hands run over the black t-shirt, lightly clawing him through the fabric. “Head is fifty. Sex is one-fifty, but if you want me to make noises it’s two—”

                “I don’t want sex.” He grabbed my hands and pulled them off his chest.

                I froze for a moment, before realizing what he meant. Licking my lips, I whispered, “That’s quite already, Sweetie. I can give you the same pleasure with another part of my body.”

                “I don’t want that either,” he said softly. “I told you; I just want us to talk.”

                I frowned slightly, not pulling away. What was he getting at? “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I can’t just waste time chit-chatting when there are paying customers—”

                “I’ll pay!” He said quickly “I will! I’ll give you whatever you want! But I don’t want anything sexual from you. I just want to talk.”

                “Wh—” My throat failed me for a moment. Swallowing my confusion, I tried again, “What are you talking about?”

                “How much do you want?”

                “I…”

                “Name your price. Any price.”

                I blinked. “Three hundred.”

                He reached into his back pocket, pushing his manhood into me. My heartbeat quickened as I realized that despite his obvious arousal, he really was going to give me the money. The man pressed three hundred dollar bills into the palm of my hand, giving me an earnest look. I hesitantly took the money, turning on the car light to quickly inspect the authenticity.

                 “I’m serious.”

                “Alright.” I swallowed again, slipping off his lap and into the passenger seat. I tucked the money away before he had a chance to take it back. “What are we talking about? You got Mommy problems? Girlfriend break up?”

                “Not quite that…” He chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair. “This is a lot harder than I thought.”

                “Take your time. But not too much—you only have an hour.”

                He raised an eyebrow, smirking, “You’re timing me?”

                I shrugged. “I’ve got a business to run.”

                “I guess it’s only fair since most of your cliental are done in under thirty.”

                I giggled softly, fidgeting in my seat. I was completely baffled by his motives. Never before had anyone wanted to simply talk. There had been small talk, but never a conversation. It seemed like he hadn’t done this before either. I waited patiently in my seat for him to continue.

                “You’re name isn’t really Jasmine.”

                “Where did you get Hanna from?”

                “This is really hard to do,” he said again. “Hanna, do you remember me at all?”

                My eyes moved over his face, but nothing struck my memory. “I’m sorry, no, did we have something before? Are you trying to tell me I got something?” Panic filled me—I had yet to succumb to one of the ravenous diseases many of my coworkers had.

                “No!” His eyes widened in surprise. “No, I knew you when you were just a little girl. You were my neighbor.”