Digital Girl ▸ z.m

one

"Six-hundred dollars for a blowjob?!?"

Magdalena looked at her nails and pushed herself off the passenger side of the car as a patrol car sped past. The blue and red lights twinkle in her eyes while she watches it run a stop sign and turn the corner. She waits a moment before returning to the conversation.

Magdalena cuts her eyes. "Did I 'stutta?"

"No bitch's mouth is worth six hunnid."

"No," She pops her gum. "Just the bitches you fuck with."

Her client's jaw clenches and he runs a hand through his hair. Magdalena smirks, aware of the fact that she's ruffled his his feathers. She watches him mull over her statement.

"Fuck you, hoe."

"You wish you could, but I'm afraid you won't be able to afford it."

"You changin' prices now that you think you poppin'."

"I don't think, I know." She says. Go home, Jordan."

He glares at her for a second before he turns his car back on and puts it into gear. "You'll be nothing but a cam girl for your whole life."

This only makes her laugh harder as she steps back onto the curb. Jordan sticks his middle finger up and backs out of the spot before he speeds off. Magdalena lights a cigarette and begins to walk back to her apartment building. Her platform heels beat against the concrete, and her hair blows in the wind.

Initially, Magdalena became a camgirl to pay her way through college, but after a while she became addicted to sex work. She quickly realized that she would make twice the money as a camgirl, and escort than she'd make as a freelance journalist. The risk of being a camgirl 'for the rest of her life' didn't bother her like Jordan thought it would. She knew he didn't even know who she was anymore. He couldn't differentiate the girl who wanted to get through Stanford University from the girl who pimped her way through life and became a thousand-aire.

She changed, big time.

Just as Magdalena reached the glass doors of the complex, her phone rang. She dug it out of the inside pocket of her fur jacket, taking another drag of her cigarette before putting it out.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?"

Magdalena went into the building, putting her hand up as the doorman attempted to make conversation with her. "I'm home."

"Why's it so loud then?"

"What do you want, Trey?" She rolled her eyes and pressed for the elevator.

He laughed. "I want you to bring your sexy ass to the club."

The elevator doors open with a 'ding'. Magdalena steps on. "I told you I don't dance anymore."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah I know. I need a new bottle girl though."

He knows her weakness.

Her shoulders slump in acquisition. "How much you payin'?"

"Four racks a night."

This information almost makes her knees buckle, but she was too headstrong to let Trey know that this deal was dynamite.

"Alright, I'll be there." She leans against the wall as the elevator stops and more people get on. "Only to check it out though. I need to sign a contract before I ever work for you again."

"Like a moth to a flame. . ."

"Don't get too happy, T." Magdalena hangs up and gets off the elevator at her floor.