1. Paid in pleasure

OLIVER’S POV

  “Ahh yes, yes baby! Just like that, fuck me just like that, baby,” she moaned loudly, her hands gripping the sink even tighter, “that’s the spot, fuck that pussy!”

I grimaced as I watched the sweat run down her arched back. Why did she keep referring to me as ‘baby’?

  “Oh god, I’m gonna fucking cum…”

About time.

 “Yes…baby, yes…y-yes…”

I felt the way her whole body contracted and her moans became desperate, thin whimpers. Her hips jerked and I decided to fuck her harder and faster. Her voice grew raw, she had no idea what my name was, so in an awkward, broken voice, she yelled;

  “Oh bartender, fuck me harder!”

A loud cry ripped out of her throat one final time before I felt the warm, messy gush spill all over my dick. I slowly pulled out of her, disgusted at the sight of the creamy liquid spurted on my cock and my hips. I backed away from her and cleaned myself with a tissue.

  She turned around and flashed a smile at me as I pulled up my trousers and buckled my belt.

“Fuck, boy!” she exclaimed, “that dick of yours is fire. You almost murdered my pussy with it. That was damn near an hour. Damn!”

  “That’ll be three hundred dollars.”

She gasped and her eyes flickered with surprise, “Jeez, boy. Clearly not into small talk, I see. Just fuck the lady and walk away, huh?”

  I glanced at the door impatiently, “I have to get back to the bar and this is the restroom, anyone can just walk in,” I said quickly, “can I have my money?”

She picked up her purse from the sink and handed the cash to me. I shoved it into my pocket and made for the door.

 “Next time, I will make you suck my pussy longer, you cute bartender.”

I felt my stomach twist as I cringed out of the rest room. “Next time,” I mumbled to myself, the feeling of self-loathing that usually accompanied this moment washing over me again.

 How long would I have to do this? There was literally nothing I hadn’t done ever since I dropped out college. My mother was still lying sick at home, that was the only part of my day worse than being a sex worker; going home to meet my sick mother.

  Then, there was Ruby. My little sister who I was seeing through high school. Working at the bar was never going to generate enough income for me to take care of my family, so when my manager told me about this ‘side hustle’, as he loved to call it, I jumped at it. That had been, what? About six months ago?

  Now, I could barely keep up with the count of how many people I had fucked. Ridiculous.

“What’s up, Oliver?” Mark’s arm was right on my shoulder when I walked out of the rest room.

He was my manager, a man in his mid-forties whose excuse for pushing most of his sex client to me was;

“I’ve lost my juice, sonny. My waist doesn’t move like it used to, the ladies need more energy, you get me?”

 That was obviously a lie. Mark fucked only the richer women, those whose husbands were too busy with the political issues of the states to pay them any attention. He had an upper room just for them. He pushed the less rich women to me…and most of the men.

There was a hotel beside the bar whose receptionist had grown accustomed to my frequent, unwholesome visits.

   “Hey, Oliver.” The blonde receptionist would always say to spite me.

Well, that ended the night I fucked her in a cab that had broken down on our way home. She had a bit more respect for me now and began to call me monster dick. Not that I fancied it, but she just wouldn’t stop.

  The other clients who loved to take risks would ask me to fuck them in the bathroom, or even in the VIP lounge which was much darker and always cloudy with a mist of tobacco. Those were mostly the women in their mid-thirties who wanted the thrill of being a reckless teenage girl again.

 I was fed up of it all really, but what I made in a month working at the bar alone, I could raise in a night of fucking these weirdos.

  “You were standing here the entire time?” I asked Mark and he just grinned, “you fucking weirdo.”

“Are you kidding me? She was singing like a bird the entire time! I had to stop people from walking into the rest room for fuck’s sake,” he replied and then nudged me slightly, “how much did you get?” 

 I frowned at those beady, greedy eyes of his. “Two hundred dollars.”

“Go on,” he stretched his palm.

I shoved my hand into my pocket and he snatched the fifty dollar note from me.

  “Great job, sonny.” He said with a chuckle and patted my shoulders before walking away.

For the rest of the night, I stood gloomily at the counter, serving drinks to whoever cared for them and basically avoiding the eyes of every lady who looked at me. I couldn’t wait to get out of there the moment Mark gave me a nod of dismissal.

  I rushed back home, boarding a cab and dozing off along the way.

I creeped into my mother’s bedroom, not bothering to flick on the lights so I wouldn’t wake her up. She was fast asleep. I planted a kiss on her forehead and in the same manner, I left the room and went up the creaky, wooden stairs to my bedroom.

   I dropped on my bed, staring up at the ceiling for a few minutes. With a loud sigh, I dragged myself off the bed and was about to walk into the bathroom when I noticed a movement behind the curtains. I froze and then saw the little feet sticking out from under the curtains. 

 

   I sighed, “Ruby. What the hell are you doing there?”

She slowly stepped out and when I saw what she carried in her right hand, my eyes widened. I glanced at my wardrobe and found it open. She had taken out one of the dildos in it and it just had to be the biggest one!

She had an appalled look on her face and before I could say anything, she asked,

    “Are you a sex worker, Oliver?”