Who Could Not Win the Mistress?

Human Performance

Life certainly wasn't easy for me. Being someone who enjoyed going out at night in the streets. That's for my nightly job. I wanted to do something for myself after I left my bastard of a boyfriend. I rubbed my head behind the building I bought my food at. I brought a cigarette to my mouth and put the lighter on. I inhaled the stick and let go.

Though my day job was shelving at a library, my night job was mainly to get advances from men. Looking at my tattoo on my arm, I was strong. I had a loose fishnet hoodie, a lacy bralette, and high jean shorts. Long boots made me more attractive. It wasn't an everyday job, but it was to make some cash for my shitty life.

I was a nineteen year old woman who knew shit about life in London. I mean, I was American but I had a boyfriend from here. He cheated on me when I found out he had some sad loser of a woman in our bed. I kicked him out of my place. A place I raise money to support.

What did I do? I take men to have fun. Or they take me to their place. Yeah, I've been an escort for about three months. It's not that fun, but I do it to get easy money.

Tonight was a night that changed my life. I took a drag of my cigarette and saw this black car by me. I scratched my blonde hair and looked toward the light. That's where cars would come and I would ask them if they needed a good time for the night.

I walked slowly to the car and tapped the window. The window lowered showing me a sunglasses clad man with a flurry of raven colored hair. He had a leather jacket on, nothing new. But there was some mystery in him.

"Hi, are you looking for directions, sir?" I ask rather innocently. He comes near my ear to whisper.

"That's why I'm here." He says. "I wanted to try something new."

I smiled and walked around the car. I opened the door and entered his passenger seat. I tossed the cigarette and closed the door. My toes were curling and I saw something familiar with this man. He put on a fedora and turned his car on.

"What's your name?" He asks as he commenced driving. I gulped.

"Angel." I said. That was my nickname as it's really Emma.

"Nice to meet you, Angel." He smiled. "I'm Jack." We drove through the streets of London. "You sound perfectly American."

"Thanks, I moved thanks to a piece of shit boyfriend I had." I shrugged. I looked at myself and then up. I was a bit of a Jennifer Lawrence type. Blonde hair, nice body. I bit my cigarette and looked at him. I nodded but he shook his head.

"I'm sorry for the boyfriend part." He told me. I put my cigarette back and cracked my fingers. "I'm a musician."

"That's cool." I smiled a little guilty.

"Yeah. I'm heading to this nice motel." He informs me. He puts on some music in his car to some gritty band called Bright Eyes. "How did you land this job?"

"I wanted to support myself since I kicked out my ex and I now had to pay for my apartment." I nodded informing him.

"Ouch." He whispers. "I just wanted to experiment."

"That's fun." I chuckle. "I like that."

"Cool." He says and we reach the place. It was a little janky. "I do like these places. Give me a sec."

He exits the car and he places his order for a stay. For two. He waves at me and I follow.

I am no stranger to motels. That's where I mostly made love anyway. Ed, my ex, actually took my virginity in a motel. I was eighteen so that was last year. So was he.

I sat down as Jack gave me a peach to eat.

"Thanks." I said and he grinned.

"You can smoke now, Angel." He tells me and I suck on the wedge. I put the cigarette in and lit it. Jack removes his glasses and hat. He was familiar.