I jump slightly and level him an angry glare. “No!”
“Then you didn’t ask for it,” Mick remarks, standing. “He’ll be handled. As for you, no guy is going to pay for a chick with black eyes and a busted nose. No sex this week. Oral only, and that’s if we’re lucky,” Mick instructs, leaving me to sit on the nasty motel floor with tissue shoved up my nostrils.
***
As the week went by, so did what was left of my conscience. Every day, I woke up from a night filled with nightmares of wings and walked my sorry ass to Mick’s motel. I’m numb, my emotions gone. My thoughts are gone. I’m… gone. I can feel my heart beating, can taste the air entering my mouth. The two important things I need to live, yet I don’t feel alive.
I gave head to two men, and one a hand job. Surprisingly, they were all good-looking. But still, with every rip of the foil to a Jimmie, as Margo calls them, a little piece of my heart goes a shade darker. Although, Jayden and I have a fully stocked fridge, and air conditioning. The day after that john gave me a bloody nose, Jayden and I went home to find a new couch with a TV sitting on a box crate. Mick has kept his word; he’s taking care of us.
Jayden finally got praise from him after he watched her performance with a trick in room 2. His words were along the lines of Jayden looked like she belonged in a porno. Doesn’t surprise me, though. Smith returned for round two. He wanted sex but Mick told him no, so he offered six hundred dollars instead of the usual four. Money speaks wonders in this business, because Mick accepted his offer. Mine and Smith’s round two was an experience I won’t soon forget.
“God, you’re sexy. Better-looking than my fiancée even,” Smith groaned as I rode him.
“Yeah?” I laughed, holding myself up with my hands on his chest. I’m the other woman. Deep down, I felt a little sorry for his fiancée. But I had to admit, it gave me a rush that he thought I was sexier than the girl he planned to spend the rest of his life with.
“Oh, yeah. In fact, I can’t get you out of my head, Fancy,” he panted, cupping my cheek.
“Well, aren’t you sweet,” I flirted, sweat building up my chest. It was actually a little creepy. I lolled my head back and moaned loudly as a flicker of ecstasy built in my abdomen, my sound of bliss Smith’s undoing as he came. He stiffened and pulled my chest to his face, riding his release and depriving me of mine.
“Fuck, I love you, Fancy,” he groaned. I stilled, my eyes wide. Margo said the rule was I had to say it back.
“I—” I choked. “I love you, too,” I whispered, my voice strained. My vision blurred, like all the blood in my system fled, leaving me lifeless. I just told a stranger I loved them…
A knock at the door breaks me from memory lane. I don’t get up, though; I just sit here with my legs crossed. My skimpy purple dress climbs my thighs, revealing my fishnet stockings.
A fat guy walks in, causing me to swallow hard and my eyes to widen. He has red curly hair and overalls that fail at hiding his large gut. The warm air from outside sweeps past him into the room, and I draw back and gag. He smells like body odor. Imagine an entire football team throwing their sweaty jock straps into a pile after a football game to simmer in the summer sun. That’s exactly what this guy smells like.
“Hello, I’m Dave,” he greets, his double chin jiggling as he talks. I swallow and nod. I can’t talk, because that means more air — and therefore body odor — entering my lungs.
“What—” I choke. “What can I do for you, Dave?” I ask, trying to hold my breath.
“Do you suck cock?” he asks, a big yellow-toothed smile wide on his face.
When I said I reached rock-bottom before, I lied. This is rock-bottom.
Before I answer him, he’s undoing his overalls, letting them fall to his sneakers which are not tied but velcroed.
“One hundred and fifty,” I inform him, holding my wrist to my nose for the smell of my perfume. Margo told me that even if men stink, you have to do it. There’s no backing down from a trick. Think of roses, suffer through it.
Dave shuffles his legs to the bed and sits down, out of breath. He starts fisting his cock, and my throat retches. I can’t do this. There’s no pretending with this guy. I’m not strong enough.
“Come on, baby,” he encourages. I look at him from the corner of my eye and try to pull every ounce of willpower I have. I slowly kneel in front of him and hold my breath. I spread his legs using his knees, and then my lungs demand air. I inhale, and the rancid smell does it for me. My gag reflex hurdles puke upward. I turn, finding the door to the motel room, and quickly open it. I crawl forward and expel my dinner on the sidewalk.
“You took one of mine, so I’m taking one of yours!” I hear beside me as I heave for fresh air. I turn to look at who’s talking, but before I can get my head turned all the way, vomit races up my throat again.