Chapter 7

Sunny looked at me with those beautiful big green eyes, praying I wouldn't put her to sleep. She was grateful that hers had inherited light, almost ash hair, courtesy of her father, as well as olive green eyes with blue flecks.

At two years old, Sunny was not a very talkative child. I thought she was the legacy of her father, very little talkative. Randy was not a bad customer; a little eccentric, but he left a good tip. Unfortunately, one day we were lucky that the condom broke, which caused the accident called Sunny.

Randy was married, a man in his late fifties, with a textile company; High profile. I couldn't stay in Florida any longer because Malcolm would never put me down with a baby bump, and while there are a couple of men with a fetish for fucking pregnant whores, most of them didn't like it. Wendy offered to help me while she got a new job.

I just had to have Sunny and after three months I started working again. By six months I no longer had milk in my breasts. However, Sunny was as healthy as a horse.

Randy sent money monthly, but not the amount needed to quit the job; besides that she was used to earning money on my own; he couldn't imagine me doing anything else.

"Come on, dwarf. Mom has to work," I whispered, taking her in my arms and kissing her forehead. I started singing her a lullaby, which always worked with her.

At eight o'clock Dolores—a neighbor who thought she worked at a phone agency on the night shift—appeared, not minding taking care of Sunny at all for a good pay.

This was a regular customer; he never gave me a name, nor did he tell me what he did or what his story was; It was just about fucking in a luxurious suite. I didn't care if he was rude because he gave me a good tip, in addition to what he paid at the agency. There was nothing fancy about him; he just looked indifferent most of the time.

I immediately remembered another person who seemed just as indifferent as my client; the difference was that he used me, whereas for Bradley it was as if he had never spoken to me.

It became a constant when working to compare it with each client he had. The sad look in contrast to the lustful one. The friendly smile versus the mischievous one. The friendly treatment against the plaintiff. In every way he stood out, which she wasn't sure how it made me feel.

I have seen it other times. Three while holding hands with Jones and another with Clinton. In all those times he ignored me and I didn't try to talk to him either, even though I knew he was smoking on the terraces.

I wondered during all those nights if it was normal to think of a stranger; that was him to me. The way he got under my eyelids, like a catchy song playing over and over in your head, filled me with despair.

Client-No-Name thrust into me, which was so normal to me, like watching TV. I closed my eyes and just played my role, but at some point, my mind focused on stormy eyes that looked at me sadly.

There he was, even when it was all over, even when I got paid, he stayed in my head.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

 

Discos were the only thing that kept me going after a day of being used. It was when I could be me and use men. They paid me drinks; They invited me to dance and I had sex without charging. It wasn't a very frequent habit because I didn't have many free nights. However, I took the opportunity to go out with Wendy; it was good to dance and drink a little. 

 

She was not one of those who walked with decorum in a disco. She was twenty-four, she was pretty and there was nothing to lose; no modesty that she should protect.

I found myself dancing in the middle of the floor. The air conditioning was barely felt from how cramped the place was; girls touching others in a suggestive way, the guys took advantage of the alcohol mist to get closer and bring fresh meat to fuck. Inhibitions were the bottom of the list for people in this place. I loved feeling free and in total control.

A blond boy with dark eyes approached me, taking me by the waist and pressing his body against mine. I didn't think about it, I just let myself go; I was not at work, I could continue or stop if I wanted. We danced three more pieces; Upbeat songs, but being so tight between us, I felt his member rub my clit.

"Do you want to go somewhere more private?" I suggested in her ear. Out there I set the rules; decide when and how.

He nodded with a mischievous smile. Surely believing that it will be on his terms. Nevertheless, I took his hand, leading him to the bathroom, where he had fucked countless men.

I locked the door and lunged for him, hearing his back hit the bathroom wall. Immediately, I kissed his neck, his earlobe, while my hand made its way up his pants. I was not surprised by the bulge that was hidden between his legs; I knelt down without caring if he was dirty. I unzipped his blue jean, pulling his boner out.

"Wow," he murmured as my mouth went straight to his cock without a word. He was very firm and his precum mixed with my saliva every time my lips put pressure on his member.

"Doll, I'm going to run," he warned between gasps. I knew she wasn't lying by the rhythm of her hips fucking my mouth. In other circumstances, perhaps because she was contrary to her, she would have sucked harder and would take her dick to the bottom of my throat;but she was not there to please him. I wanted an orgasm with a dick, instead of getting it from my dildo. I was in charge, he was just an object of pleasure.

I gave it one last lick on the tip that made it hiss. I got up from the ground, asking—: Condom?

He smirked and, possibly, it was a smile that made girls go crazy, but what I didn't want happened: I compared Bradley's smile again with that of the unknown guy, feeling my stomach turn with disgust, losing desire. to follow.

The seconds it took her to look for the condom felt like forever. If she didn't place it on his member quickly, she would leave with her balls loaded with semen.

I groaned impatiently, taking the condom off him, ripping the packaging with my teeth and placing the latex on his penis. Again, without foreplay, I hiked my skirt up to my waist, sliding the panty to one side, and thrusting her cock into me.

He felt bad, in a way he couldn't describe; Like I knew Bradley was watching me, judging my quest for release with some stranger in a filthy bathroom. I refused to let him win that round, so I closed my eyes trying to find the tune with the penis that filled my insides. However, it was my worst mistake, because there was an older blond man, giving me that stormy look, full of censure and sadness.

I needed to end the torture of seeing his eyes everywhere; I thought maybe if I imagined Bradley fucking my pussy, instead of the guy penetrating me gladly, the chasing gaze from him might end. Perhaps that he had rejected me was the reason why his eyes haunted me. So, I changed the face of the unknown boy who fucked me from behind, to put Bradley's.

That alone caused my entrance to contract, making it tighter and more eager. My movements became frantic, and the guy with the Bradley face raised my left leg for more reach; He brought his other hand to my chest to play with my erect nipple, while my hand moved directly to my clit, squeezing that sensitive little button. My moans were getting louder and I was sure that many would know what was happening in that place covered in old ceramics, but I didn't care. It was the first time I felt so horny in a public bathroom.

I leaned back on the sink giving the man more depth. The position worked like a glove, because the hard surface of the ceramic pressed my clitoris, which mixed with the guy's thrust led me to climax; I exploded into a bunch of pieces, experiencing the best orgasms I'd had in a long time.

He kissed my back, causing me to open my eyes, finding that Bradley's face was gone, leaving him with that normal-looking blonde. I found nothing there; nothing that gave it a slight resemblance to the gray storm. Swallowing my sigh, I pushed him away smoothly. My legs were a little unsteady, but not because of what had just happened, but because of that feeling that it wasn't enough. Playing dumb, I tucked my panties into place and then lowered my skirt.

I gave him a sidelong glance, seeing that he took off the condom, making the typical tie to the latex, to drop it in the basket. Realizing that she was looking at him, she cleared her throat, and I caught her intent to speak.

However, my reaction was to deny both with my head and with my index finger.

"I'm not interested," I warned. Whether I turned into the best fuck he'd ever had, whether he wanted to give me his name or ask me mine, none of it mattered to me. I wasn't looking for a relationship, even pretending I could date or fuck the same guy for a while. My job left no room for any of that.

He froze, looking at me in disbelief. I ignored him, washing my hands in silence, to leave the bathroom without giving him a single glance.

I found Wendy at the bar, making out with a guy. I touched her shoulder to get her attention. She averted the man's face, meeting her glassy pupils. She asked, "Better?" I nodded. She knew we didn't come looking for love. We only wanted to own our body, allowing whoever we wanted to enter our pussy.

-Leave. He wasn't asking her permission, but she didn't want him to worry. She smiled at me, then turned to face her guy. That was the difference between her and me: it had been many years—perhaps ten years—she hadn't kissed a person on her mouth. Maybe I forgot what it was to kiss or the sensations that came with the act. I became someone without room for feelings of sadness or memories of the past, but at the same time, without aspirations for a better future.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

 

I should feel nothing when I saw it; I practically fucked a stranger in the bathroom using his face, and according to me, that was enough to kill whatever emotion he evoked in me over the past few months. However, I found it in my search for a little distraction. As was customary, he was smoking in a pool, looking mysterious due to the stillness of the place, added to the low lighting.

The party inside the hotel was in full swing; an event about donations for a mental institution or something. However, my only interest at that precise moment was Bradley.

I wondered what was wrong with me; it was as if seeing him behind my eyes wasn't enough anymore. I found that all my skin was on fire from him touching me. I understood very late that imagining it in sex triggered the repressed desires and sensations. He hated that he had that right, without doing anything to deserve it. It was a physical attraction she hadn't experienced since she was fourteen. And even then, it wasn't as overwhelming as I was feeling standing there, looking at him.

Definitely, I turned into a stalker spying on him from a distance, not knowing how to approach him.

He was on his second cigarette. In my spying I learned that sometimes only one smoked, stayed for a while looking at nothing and left. However, that day, he had smoked two in less than five minutes.

My feet grew weary of being planted behind the glass window, while my body yearned for more than watching from a distance, daring to go to him, even as my brain cried out for some self-control.

I stopped next to him, sitting down on an empty lounger, anchoring my eyes on the dark blue of the pool.

Bradley looked at me sideways, making a hint of a smile that didn't end its tour of the cigarette in his mouth.

After taking a drag, he turned to me, cocking his head. "Long time no see," she commented as if we were the best of friends; when she spoke, the smoke she held in her mouth took the opportunity to escape, making me believe that she was under a spell.

"Yes," I whispered, unable to tell him that I had seen him, more times than I could count and more than he knew.

Most nights she watched him from a distance. In the end I didn't get to him because Jones stopped me or because my brain refused to figure out why I needed to talk to Bradley, even though it made me feel small.

Today he came with Clinton. After a mediocre fuck in her hotel room, she got high enough to forget I even existed.

Bradley was looking at me as if he expected more than a flat yes, but he had the ability to hold me back, making me feel like nothing I said would matter.

"I'm about to think you're just a stalker," he said with a smug smile. He knew it; he had no idea how old he might be, but Bradley was aware that she was desirable and certainly fuckable.

I had met older men throughout my work, but Bradley seemed to me from another world. There was something in him, in his mysterious air, in his voice, in his gaze or even his smile, that made him someone I would definitely take to my bed.

"You're not that handsome," I murmured, hearing how pathetic I was in refusal.

He laughed very loudly, causing my gaze to follow the sound. He looked amused and I could feel my own smile breaking through.

-OK. He nodded, not looking offended. Surely he was a man who had no shortage of women. It was with that thought that I understood that maybe that's why I wasn't attractive to him. He could have anyone, why pay for a fuck? The discovery didn't make me feel any better.

Silence reigned again, getting my discouragement palpable in the environment. I secretly hoped that he wanted to fuck me. Maybe that way I would end the crazy fantasy I had about him possessing my body like the stranger did in the bathroom.

She wanted to ask any trivia, just to hear him talk, but she was finishing her second cigarette and maybe she was about to go inside. Then she would go another week or even more without seeing him...

I forced myself to take a deep breath, asking, "How old are you?" I was aware that he was asking basic questions, but I was hoping that it would work and that it would keep him talking.

He dropped his cigarette butt, putting his expensive, shiny shoe on top of it to put it out. She exhaled, bringing back that mystical moment as she responded, “Forty-four. There was a trace of discouragement in his confession. He wanted to tell him that it wasn't that many years; he had eighty-year-old clients, go figure. Although, she didn't know why, he reacted that way.

"It's not that bad," I offered sincerely. The last time I spoke so casually to someone I was fourteen years old. My first and only boyfriend: Timothy.

-You are starting. Tell me when you're thirty-five,” she replied, raising an eyebrow, without abandoning her friendly smile. That smile had haunted me along with her sad look.

I sighed, fixing my attention on the stillness of the pool, trying to let the darkness in it absorb all my problems; like wanting a man who was out of my reach.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm that age." "I didn't mean to say it. Although, as with him, things escaped my lips, even before my brain managed to stop the nonsense I was thinking.

"Claire?" She—she called me her and, the way she did it, she squeezed my chest in a weird way. My eyes searched her gaze, noticing that the gray was gone, however, her face was so intense that the knot tightened even more inside me. It's not that serious," he returned my words.

At first I frowned, not understanding, but his gaze softened, understanding the meaning of his answer; it wasn't bad to feel old even if he wasn't. It was good to feel like I had lived enough of two lives together.

He trapped me in that dark gray storm, feeling that it was pulling me from all sides until I was left defenseless; without protection, shaking every piece of my being.

He put his hand on mine and without understanding what was happening, everything stopped. My breath, my heartbeat, my will; then, in less than a second, I regained my faculties, but with an amazing intensity. He didn't take his eyes off her, nor his hand, nor did he look away, let alone resist his touch. If that tingle was caused by a simple touch, what would it be like to have sex with him? She definitely needed to fuck Bradley.

He lowered his head, perhaps looking at our hands, and then shook his head; she lifted her face, apologizing with her gaze. She sighed heavily, getting up from the lounger. She was leaving and she would never see him again. My hand flew to hers, stopping her walk. Bradley turned to see me with a frown.

My reaction was weird and unusual. However, not caring about his confusion, I asked, "Don't go." That wasn't my voice; She wasn't shy, nor was she hesitant, nor was she the type to whisper, but with him, I didn't function as I normally did. He made me into someone different.