Myocardium

Part 5

It takes me a while to get into my working mood tonight, my body keeps telling me to go the heck to sleep. In the end, I know I'll push through regardless. As if I have any other choice, right?

With my outfit in blue and one more pinhole from the syringe in my arm, I make my way to the poker tables and pool tables to join a game of poker that Crystal and Rose have started with a few older men. They're usually my least favorite kind of people, the ones rubbing themselves against my body while I bend over the pool table during a game, or the ones pulling me onto their lap or groping me without ever asking for a word of permission, like when I'm casually walking by and minding my own business. Seriously, how do they not understand how this isn't okay, nor sexy or alluring?!

I play poker with them for a while and, as I get bored, decide to get on stage to at least catch someone's attention. It never gets that far though, as a similar silhouette, who seems to have been sitting by the bar, approaches me quickly before I reach the poles. His well-built, tall figure is so unusual in this establishment that it almost looks unique, so does his young, handsome face. 

Like the night before, he seems annoyed, the way he is walking directly towards me is intimidating. With a deadly stare into my eyes, he reaches me and grabs me by the arm. Unfortunately, it's the arm with the huge, makeup-covered bruise on it, and he squeezes it just at the right spot to make me hiss silently. What an asshole.

"Do you have time? Mind helping me out for a moment?"; he growls at me, lets go of my arm and I nod without responding verbally. With that having been our only words of agreement, I let him lead me back to where my dedicated room is located.

"You know what to do", he speaks indifferently, somewhat angrily and sighs, placing some money on the dresser. In the meantime, I take off my clothes while he watches me for the most of it. When he lets himself glide into me carefully, he grunts, "Not much of a talker, huh?"

I don't respond and instead just begin moaning to follow the demand of 'pretending to enjoy it' from the night before. What I don't know is whether what I'm doing is right or wrong, how could I?! With him not giving me any instructions, feedback, or other signs, I can't know.

Maybe it's for the better though, at least he doesn't force me to talk a load of bullshit during intercourse like many others. About half an hour of the same treatment as the night before and a tied-up condom in the trashcan later, he gets dressed and checks himself out in the mirror again, fixing his dark curls as I sit at the edge of the bed, lacking words to say to him. It's a weird tension, in a way I feel like he has something to say. But he never does. 

"Thanks, I hope you have a good night!" With those words, he leaves, not even giving me a chance to answer properly. Alright then, mysterious man, keep your secrets. I'm totally not the one to complain. 450 $ are 450 $ after all. I don't need to understand why and I don't really care enough to think about it either. 

Some people just have their own ways of doing things and it's not up to me to judge or question that. After locking up the money and showering quickly, I check my arm again and lo and behold, the bruise has indeed gotten bigger and a lot more visible, it has changed its colour to a deep, dark purple. Ah, whatever, makeup will take care of it.

"Hey Silver, get over here", Stacy calls me over to her and Jesse, she seems excited. Her black, short hair is tied into a bun and the black lingerie with the golden accents on it suits her well.
"You were the one going to the back with that hottie? No way! How was it, honey?" Jesse asks, and I sit down on the sofa facing them, pulling my knees to my stomach to make myself look as small as possible. Our group is getting some attention and people from all over the room are looking...staring...preying.

"He's...pretty straight-forward, I guess", I answer with a dispassionate expression on my face. This really isn't such a big deal, neither do I really want to be having this conversation at the moment. I'm here to make money, not to banter with my colleagues. 

"Aww too bad, I bet he could take reeeeaal good care of you if he wanted to", Jesse teases me, I just role my eyes and laugh, "Pfft, whatever."

"Talking about hotties, there was such a cute girl in here last Wednesday when you weren't here, she was literally so freaking gorgeous. You know, blonde curls, cute face, long lashes, perfect body, young...the whole ordeal", Stacy raves about this girl I don't know, and I decide to ask her about it out of mere politeness. "Well, what'd she do in here?"

"Apparently was just looking for someone to help her not suck at trying with her girl for the first time, she was super sweet. I was more than willing to teach her, too," Stacy explains, and Jesse adds how cute this sounds.

I look around the room, Kim's on the pole again and spins around it with elegance. Her long, dark hair is tied back, her bangs look perfectly styled. On her slim, tanned body, she wears nothing but a thong in neon yellow. Her perky breasts are exposed, and the men are staring at her, trying to get a taste. JJ's wedged between two husbands by the looks of it on the red leather sofa. She looks comfortable with what she's doing. She's the oldest of us, yet she's still very fit and absolutely nails her job perfectly. 

Crystal is currently leaving to the back with a tall man. According to many people around us, she is the definition of a MILF. Like all of us, she doesn't really talk about her private life. Still, she's kind of all of us' mom. Something about it just seems so natural. Yuri and Bunny are working behind the counter of the bar, mixing up cocktails and walking around the room with trays of champagne in their hands.

It sure is a long ass night for me, there are not many people who show interest. Not that the others don't struggle too, it's just a strange night. After that young man, there's only one more person I'm interesting for, yet she booked me for pretty much the rest of my shift. Summed up, it must be about four hours that I spend with her, for a total of 700 dollars. See, it's strange, how I've made more than half of that by getting railed for half an hour straight. Much easier than talking my ass off for hours on end, making up story after story to tell her.

In the end, she wants me to climax too, but I can't. I can't ever do so when I'm with clients, something in my brain just blocks that while I'm with them. No matter how much they try or how attractive I find them, I just can't. Now that I think about it, I don't think I've ever really experienced a real orgasm ever since I've started selling my body. In a way, I feel too much guilt for what I do, I don't even have the urge to jerk off anymore.

Maybe it's a curse, maybe it's a blessing to feel this way, but I have no idea which one it is. Porn has never been too interesting for me either, except for those few times I've masturbated before starting to prostitute myself for real. Before that, I've only had sex with my dealer for money, but even then, I've never climaxed. I mean, how could I, really? I was too young and too intimidated to understand even fully what was going on, which is incredibly sad to think about. Fuck, I can't change the way my body works. Maybe I won't ever climax ever again, maybe I will. 

However, this isn't important to me, sex has been different in my eyes ever since I started having it.