Short Smut(16)

He cried out and jetted into me. My feet kicked the air. His body shook, and my ass was so tight against his groin that my body shook too. Beads of perspiration spattered the floor. I wanted to feel him fill me with seed. I wanted that goddamn condom to break but it held.

“Fuck yes,” were my first words, when I returned to sanity.

The Frenchman breathed against my shoulder. He leaned against me without strength, and I was pressed fully against the wall of the stall. I slid a little because of my sweat. My feet weren’t touching the ground, but I was slowly lowering as his cock shrank out of my vagina.

“Merci,” he said and stood. He pulled off his condom and was about to flush it when I stopped him.

“I want to keep this,” I told him. “It’s my trophy.”

He gave the first smile I saw on his face. It looked like a stranger there, but cute nonetheless. “I wish you were my trophy. Maybe I see you again?”

“Can you get to College Town?” I gave him my email address.

He gave me a slow, tender kiss, which I let myself enjoy. “Ma belle,” he murmured and left the stall.

When I was able to walk, I followed him. My Frenchman was gone, but there were three ten-dollar bills on the floor by my crumpled dress. I added the knotted-off condom full of French sperm. I turned to Jack to ask him to take a picture with his phone.

Jack wasn’t alone.

Dean was there too, with a lit cigarette and a hungry look on his face.

Next to them was another stranger—an older man, white-haired, with a pot belly. He was expensively dressed. In contrast to his wrinkles, he had a wishful young smile as he stared at my naked, sweat-streaked, and probably grimy body. I couldn’t help but smile back.

“Marylou, you’re a big hit,” said Jack, his eyes devouring me.

“I would love a few minutes of your time,” the sexy older man said, “to help me remember what my twenties were like.”

Done.

A girl loves flattery.

I walked up to him. The scrutiny from three men at once made me feel slinky and sexy as I walked.

I gave the old man a lingering kiss—delicately at first, and then more passionately when I realized he was as solid as my other men. There was nothing fragile or geriatric about him.

He wore cologne, and for the first time in my life I really loved cologne. I was going to be taken by a sophisticated man with expensive cologne.

“This is going to be good,” the man said, when I pulled away to let him breathe.

A girl’s thoughts exactly.

* * *

Whoring sounds easy, but it’s exhausting!

Forty minutes and two Johns later, I was spent, and Dean led me alone into the parking lot. I was over-fucked and teetering in my shoes. I knew what I looked like and I liked how I smelled: cologne, cigarettes, desperation, and cum—a potent fragrance that would never wash out of my memory.

“This car isn’t mine,” he said, opening the door.

“No shit, Dean.”

“I was buying pills from the dude who owned this car. He decided to steal my money and keep his pills. I was fine with that. But then he pulled his gun out and sprayed bullets. It was fucking insane, Lorelei. I was so scared. He tried to shoot me but I grabbed the gun and bent his arm back, and then he shot again and hit himself. It was a bad scene. I jumped in his car and came to find you.”

I merely sat. I was unable to understand what he was telling me.

“If anybody asks you,” he added, “tell them exactly what I said. Don’t make yourself an accessory. I’m going to prison, unless I can get self-defense.”

“Oh, Dean.” I finally started crying.

“No—this is okay. I need to stop being an addict. I need my GED. I’ll rehabilitate. This is a good thing.”

I knew the odds against all of that. “Dean…”

He put a finger on my lips. “Before I turn myself in, I wanted to tie up all my loose ends.”

“I’m a loose end?”

“In every sense of the word,” he said, which made us laugh. “Lorelei, you’ve been dropping hints about your whore fantasy ever since high school. You loved every second of this trip. Tell me I’m wrong.”

I shook my head. A girl wasn’t going to start lying at this point.

“My fantasy was to finally see you sell yourself. It’s weird, but it works for me. It was worth all the trouble.”

He gave me an ardent kiss, and God help me, I wanted to follow up on it. I wasn’t thinking too clearly just then. After more than an hour in the bus depot men’s room, my solution to everything seemed to be sex.

“Why did you bring Jack?” I asked. “Why was he my first customer? You had the whole world to pick from.”