At Her Best.

One.

"Oh shit, that's it! Yes! Yes! Oh my!" I yelled.

I stifled a laugh at my fake cries, and tried my hardest to act like I was enjoying this sexual activity. It was only the first round and my client was already out of breath, which was only adding to my annoyance. He was the third for the night, and without a doubt the last. And to think I thought no one could be worse than the man before him. Tuh. These men were pathetic, but it was all good because I was laughing my way to the bank off of their incompetent asses.

"You like how big poppa puts it on you, huh?" Stanley murmured, huffing excessively.

I rolled my eyes and continued fake moaning, thanking God that this stupid man couldn't see my face. We were in the backshot position for the past two minutes, and for some reason this man just couldn't catch the rhythm. He was giving black men a bad name for sure. But I don't think he cared. He just wanted to bust a nut. And I wanted that for him too. His sweaty palms were sealed on my lower back and that shit was making me uncomfortable.

At last, Stanley stiffened and released all over the sheets. I smirked, and bounced off the bed, heading over to the dresser where my money was. I always required payment before entry of the pussy. Those were just my rules. I counted my bread happily, for each Benjamin was making me sigh with relief. Three thousand, four thousand, five thousand. Now this was making my coochie regain its wetness. Talk about another job well done.

"So, what else we 'bout to get into?" Stanley asked, breathing restlessly.

I rolled my eyes heavily. Hasn't this man had enough? Counting my bands made me forget that his ass was still here. The elderly man was stretched out on the hotel's bed, looking absolutely satisfied. Turning to fully look at him, I realized how much of a rich lowlife he was. Stanley was a first timer to my prostitution/escort experience, but he'll get the memo quick. This disgusting man only paid for certain advances. Any extra shit he wanted would have costed him way more than what I just counted. I already knew breaking the news to him was going to start an uproar...but it's not like I cared. I wasn't going to bend my rules for anyone, especially not this sleazy getup.

"Well judging from your funds." I replied, hefting the cash that I was just happily counting. "Not a damn thing else. What the fuck do you think this is? Get the hell up outta my room."

Stanley's face turned sour, which I was already prepared for. Thankfully, I had my own personal bodyguard for shit like this. My brother Renzo was my bodyguard/protector/unnecessary advisor/whatever shit else I needed. He held me down and I did the same for him financially. 

I strongly believed that this was one of the reasons why I lasted this long in the prostitution game. Having protection was key. Being in such a cut throat business, you needed to protect yourself at all times. You had to be just as smart, if not smarter than your clients. Grabbing my robe, I slipped it on as Stanley came charging at me. His stomach jiggled as he quick walked, and I thought that was the funniest shit ever.

"Look here you bitch!" Stanley yelled. "Do you know how much money I just gave you? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

Damn, where did this renewed vitality come from? I smiled when Stanley got up in my face. Our noses were touching and I guess he thought he was scaring me, but he was plain laughable. He wasn't the first, nor would he be the last man to try to threaten me with violence. I was so used to the shit, I played a game in my head where I ranked from 1-10 the men who were the most intimidating. Mr. Stanley here was coming in at a close 2.

"I think, no, I know I'm the baddest bitch." I answered coolly. "But then again, every woman thinks that, as they should. You have way more to lose here than I do, Mr. Mayor. Pack your shit, and leave quietly. We both know you don't need any problems. Plus, I have a whole goon outside who ain't scared of nobody. So play with your life if you want to."