Swipe Right - The Chronicles of an Unpaid Prostitute

Chapter Thirteen

I realized I needed to kiss a lot of frogs before I found my prince and I wasn't going to give up because of bank robbers or guys who couldn't afford their own groceries. Although I'd never met so many entrepreneurs in my life. Everyone was an entrepreneur these days - the club promoters, the MLM companies, the sub-contractors; what they didn't realize was being an entrepreneur wasn't impressive anymore if you still lived with Mommy in her basement and she did your laundry.

Before we'd even gone out, I'd received a text message: Send me a good night pic, babe.

Clearing my throat, I started my reply: I'm sure asshole is one of your best qualities, unfortunately I've reached my quota... for my life, but good luck to you and sweet dreams.

Sunday evening my sexter was back and oh what a joyous night it had become. Closing my bedroom door, I locked it behind me and got comfortable on my bed. Let the festivities begin. I loved the mystery, the taboo behind it all. And when I started to receive intimate photos of him, I did something I never thought I would do. I saved them in my phone for tougher times to come. It was a pathetic move, but necessary. In turn, the combination of his words and my hand were some of the best sexual encounters of my life.

Tuesday night was dedicated to Zack. He took me to an art gallery and showed me how bougie he was as he described each painting with an air of confidence. Naturally I dropped my panties for him. Well I would have had I been wearing any. It was very hard to resist all that education packed into a well fitted pressed suit. I would have told him that we didn't even need to go to the gallery, but he wanted to show off and I wanted to let him. The suit and education were stripped away and replaced by a mattress on the floor. On the floor. Well, this was a new one for me. It got worse. Anticipated excitement filled me as he moved to stand and pulled me so I was sitting on the edge of the bed. And then it happened. He slapped me. In the face. With his dick. WITH HIS DICK. "Now tell me you want it, dirty girl."

I was shocked and horrified then outraged all in the matter of one second. When he moved to do it again, I grabbed his wrist and raised an eyebrow. "Come on babe, we're just having some fun, go with it."

"I'm not, nor will I ever be going with you slapping me. With anything."

"Are you sure? It's a huge turn on for me."

"I'm sure."

"Okay. Lay back, let Daddy take a good look at you." Oh god, I couldn't do this.

"How about less talking. Quiet time, now."

But he didn't listen. Daddy didn't listen. "Tell me how much you like it."

What if I didn't like it? Why do guys always assume? "Um..."

"Wait for it... wait for it. Oh god, you're so dirty. I'm going to come. Get ready, get ready. Get on your knees, I want to come on your face."

Oh hell no! I pushed him off me, grabbed my jeans and left, shoes in hand. I heard him calling after me, I didn't stop. I ran for the damn hills. Holy sweet baby Jesus hell.

I met Ben for a lunch meeting at a new restaurant downtown. He was still tense and stuffy, maybe his pants were too tight. We talked about my progress and any changes he wanted to make. As he excused himself to use the restroom, I checked my phone in an effort to make it seem like I wasn't sitting at the table alone, like one does, when I saw I had an unexpected text message. It was a one liner from the person I was least expecting, my dad. 'I'm going to be in town, let me know when you're free.' I was still staring at the screen when Ben came back. It was becoming clear I was terrible at hiding my feelings.