Hello, friends! It's been a while, and I am here with yet another story to replace my other unfinished stories.
I hope you enjoy!

You see, sex is a lot of things, but for me sex is a living, it's food on the table and perhaps a bed for the night – if you're lucky.
Sex is supposed to be fun, right? Or maybe some would call it a thrill or some pity's play. But for me, it was a job, and I was good at it.
So when I picked up some lonesome bloke with a crease in his brow, a hunch in his back and a scowl on his face. I knew it was time to make some cash.
"Hello," I called out, and he looked back at me before he kept walking. "Hey, can I talk to you?" I asked gently. He stopped reluctantly and turned to me.
"Look, I'm not interested, really."
I smiled softly, "I didn't say you were, and I didn't say I was selling. I asked if we could talk."
He took a hesitant step closer, "What do you want to talk about?"
"Books."
He quirked a thin eyebrow, an irritated look on his face, "Books?"
I grinned for him, "Books." With a reassuring glance.
"Look, I'm sorry, but I really don't have the time. I got to get back to my brother-"
I interrupted, "Mind if I tag along? There's all kind of weirdos out here, and you seem like a nice guy."
"I'm sorry, but I don't think-"
"Just down the block, please? There's this one guy who keeps trying to reach his hands up my skirt without paying." I fidgeted with the cheap ring on my finger, the one that turned my fingers green if I left it on too long.
He softened, the lines around his eyes eased out, "Okay, just stay close to me." He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and continued, "Where to?"
"Just this way, then I'll leave you to your evening." I tugged at the hem of my skirt, and smirked - he was playing well at my game.
"I'm Isabelle, by the way."
"I'm Sam." He said with a slight smile, his bangs playing over his dark eyes.
"You're new around here, Sam." I stated, glancing over my shoulder, but giving him my full attention.
"Me and my brother just pulled in yesterday morning."
"Vacation or business?"
"Business." He said with a small laugh.
"It's always business," I said, "No one comes to Birmingham for vacations." He smirked.
"I don't suppose many."
"How long are you staying?"
"Just a few days, or at least until business is done."
"Fair enough." I stated. "Where at?"
"The motel down on main." He replied.
The cold of December settled heavily upon us, and I shivered before shrugging, "I'm not much for small talk, Sam. Lets talk about books."
He laughed lightly, "You sure are adamant about books."
"Well you do too, not just anyone uses words like 'adamant'."
"I suppose you're right."
"So, books." He said, looking around just as cautious as I am.
"Books." I said, "Any favorites?"
Sam shrugged, "You probably wouldn't know much about my favorite books."
"I might have taken offence to that!" I remarked sarcastically.
"I didn't mean like you're not smart…I just meant," his brow furrowed, "Never mind." And smiled easily at me.
We walked in silence for a little while longer – I didn't like silence; silence didn't earn me money.
"So, what do you and your brother do?" I asked.
"Uh," He dug his hands deeper in his pockets. "Can you keep a secret?" I almost laughed, he looked like a puppy.
"Depends, what's the secret?"
"We're FBI."
I actually laughed that time; no way Puppy Boy was FBI. "FBI my bottom lip."
"We are!" He defended.
I stopped in my tracks and turned towards him, "Badge." I commanded.
He shuffled through his pockets and patted down his jeans, before pulling out a badge and flashed it at me. I looked at him, "It says bikini inspector."
Sam flushed, shuffled his feet and stuffed it back in his pocket and said, "No, it doesn't."
Impersonating FBI, another thing I can write him up for.
The poor guy must not have been older than twenty-five, and with his shaggy mane and calloused hands, there was no way he could have honestly expected me to fall for that.
He was young, and so was I, but I had something he didn't – experience on the streets.
I'd serviced some of the top drug dealers in Birmingham, Washington, San Antonio, and Los Angeles. I had been their undoing.
It was fun to watch years of what people had worked for unravel in my hands in minutes, I was odd like that. I had a strange addiction that required a lot of work to fuel, but my highs lasted longer than most and I was patient.
So, you may be wondering, why did I choose Puppy Boy off the streets? Because you couldn't make every bust some high up, you had to calculate, had to be precise.
Plus, this one was cute. I enjoyed the cute ones.
I took a step forward and leaned against his chest. It was time to make my move.
"What if," I traced the bone structure of his face, "We have a little fun, and I make sure not to tell anyone about what you do during your off hours as a 'Bikini Inspector'."
Sam took a nervous step back, "And who would you tell?"
I smiled, placing a hand on his chest, "The police." He tensed beneath my hand. He was a tall one, and so I leaned up on the tips of my platforms. "Impersonating an agent holds a penalty, y'know? Up to three years behind bars." Plus, "I imagine that's not the only thing you're hiding, Sam. You could have all sorts of punishable behavior on your record, it could only take one little search of your name."
"And what if I run?"
I flicked my tongue over my lips, "Then you'd miss a heck of a good time."
He smiled at me.