The ceiling of the unfamiliar bedroom Katya woke up in needed re-painting. So did the toe nails of the man snuggled to her side. There was a heavy, hairy arm wrapped around her chest, painfully pressing on her chest, and a pounding headache that reminded her of the fact that she was no longer eighteen. She could taste yesterday's cigarettes on her tongue and smell the stale scent of sex in the stuffy bedroom; combination of cum and sweat.
The curvy body on her left stirred as she slowly moved the hairy arm off of her and wiggled her way out of the double bed. Where the fuck was her underwear?
There were piles of clothing scattered around the bedroom floor and only the fourth one brought any results. Katya pulled the t-shirt on and glanced at the couple on the bed. What the fuck was wrong with modern society so that twenty-something-year-olds needed to "spice up" their sex life with additions such as her?
The walls were decorated with multiple framed photographs of the couple's trips abroad, their happy moments. There was a statue of a cat on the dresser and candles Katya figured were lit on special occasions to set the mood. Fuck romance, she personally couldn't even fucking spell the word.
The fifth pile of clothes was a jackpot, containing mostly just her items. She dressed as quietly as she could.
She grabbed her bag and tiptoed next to the guy on the bed. Men did the paying in hetero relationships, right? She had nothing against the bear, or hairy dude - straights didn't get called bears, did they? - and didn't want to wake him, but she really needed the agreed $180. Money in the dresser, girl! Had she learned nothing?
"Dude," Katya whispered, "Fuck man, wake up."
The bear stirred and looked up to Katya, clearly hungover.
"Dude, I need the money."
The beast groaned and sat up. He pointed lazily to his left and Katya rolled her eyes. Maybe it was too much to ask of the males of the species to communicate in full sentences? She eyed the direction the bear was pointing at and spotted his wallet - or she assumed it was his. She grabbed it and gave it to the man who after a brief pause handed her $200 in twenty dollar bills.
"Thanks, man," Katya whispered. Whore or not, she hadn't been raised by fucking wolves. She weaved her way quietly to the door and was about to leave when a low grunt made her turn once more. What now?
"Same time next week?" the bear asked and Katya smiled politely.
"Sure, text me," she said and closed the bedroom door behind her.
*
The morning sun was bright and hot. Katya found the mints, the coke and the cheapest bag of crisps she could find in the gas station and threw them onto the counter.
"And Lucky Strikes, the click and roll ones," she said to the severely overweight cashier.
"ID?" the man asked in a low baritone and Katya wanted to roll her eyes. Instead she flashed him her driver's licence, revealing her age close to thirty, and smiled the sweetest smile she could muster.
The horizontally challenged cashier wiggled his plump ass to the cigarettes and back, tempting Katya to ask for another pack, just to give the bastard some exercise, but she figured that in a state where a Mars bar costed half the price of a fresh salad the man was probably doing his best anyway and so she decided against it.
"Anything else?" the man asked and Katya snorted.
"A condo with a working bathroom, pretty husband and a job where I can keep my clothes on?"
