It was a painful routine to wake up every morning with her stomach twisted into a knot. It wasn't her ideal job, being a prostitute; then again, Chica was supposed to be a star. A great, big star as her mother exclaimed after every performance. She didn't know to expect each day, every night roaming the streets. Holding the fear that any moment she could get a gun held up to her head or a knife to her back was not benefiting her health. (Not saying anything like that didn't happen…she's had some creeps in the past that resulted her running out before the session ever began).
But never has she ever gotten a client where she was lucky to be who she was and what she was doing.
Sunday nights were notoriously slow since not many men were available and had a work early the next morning. Only a few stragglers would escape from the confines of their houses for just an hour of relief from their mundane lives. There was a nip in the air that night, no clouds in the sky and thankfully not many of them were roaming the streets. Chica normally didn't take those lonely men and usually hung out with her friends in the lobby of the brothel, doing errands or something. She sat at the corner of one of the plush couches with her friend on the other end, both their legs stretched out and intertwined with each other as they were in the middle of an in depth conversation. One of their other friends came jogging down the staircase, beckoning the two over as she raced towards the front windows.
"Girls, get a good look at this scrub."
Exchanging glances, Chica and the other lady hoisted themselves up from the couch and crowded around the window, peering through the drapes. Outside was their prostitute friend standing by the doorway, looking quizzically at a polished black Lamborghini that looked brand new from it's sleek black coating and bright tire covers that someone could see their reflection in. The girls have never witnessed a car this fancy in a neighborhood this crummy, near a brothel swamping with revulsion. The woman standing in front of the door motioned for Chica and her friend to come out and take a closer look, so they did.
As they stepped out, a subconscious smirk broke out across Chica's lips. This booshie piece of work thinks he can just pull up in his decretive toy car to make him look desirable and mysterious to them? Scoffing under her breath, Chica placed a hand on her hip and glanced at her nails in a sassy manner while the other prostitutes gazed on with eagerness when the man behind the wheel slipped out from the driver's seat. The tall man with his dark hair slicked back and dusty gray suit removed his aviators and gave an observational scan over the women who were lined up in front of the door.
"How may we help you, sir?" A woman slurred and leaned forward subtly to expose her cleavage in a not so seductive way.
The man scratched the stubble on his chin and pointed directly at Chica, who looked the most withdrawn from the group. "Her. The big one."
Perking up, pretending to be honored at his decision, Chica flicked her ponytail out of the way and blew a kiss towards her friend's. "Wish me luck."
They groaned in envy and disappointment as Chica strolled over to the older man, a teasing smiling gracing her face. "You made the right choice, sir. Would you like to come in with me?" She directed her hand towards the wooden door, ignoring the innocent waving from the other ladies.
"No." he grunted. He must have realized how callous he sounded because he quickly cleared his throat and place his sunglasses back over his eyes. "No, um, I would prefer to go back to my place. I'll pay you extra."
"Well, I can't turn down that offer." Chica winked and didn't hesitate to open the passenger side door and slip right in. The women watched in awe as they drove off together, shocked that Chica agreed to leave the area with a client.
At first it was fun, maybe a little daring for Chica to be leaving the perimeter of the brothel and be going into another town altogether. As the landmarks became unfamiliar and the man driving remained silent and unnerving, Chica began clutching at her pocket book a bit too tightly, growing just a smidge of fear for her own wellbeing. Maybe she should have asked him questions or given him body check before agreeing to go with him. Of course she acted without thinking first. She shook her head and glanced over at the man who seemed relax now but didn't look Chica's way once.
They finally approached a town with towering houses, long driveways, and chandelier's hanging above their front stoop. Chica's eyes darted from house to house that passed by her window before sparing a questionable look towards her client. It wasn't the best conversation started but it was something to slice into the heavy awkwardness that settled in the car. "So, you're really rich, huh?"
"Stock broker." Was his bored reply. He didn't sound too happy about it but Chica didn't take it personally. They soon turned into a long gravel driveway with a mailbox right by the curb and drove up until they reached his house. He had a freshly cut, rich green lawn with small shrubs and colorful flowerbeds and a few vines swirling up on the side of the porcelain white house. Chica opened her car door, eyes wide like saucers. She took a tentative step out as her gaze never left the sight of the house.
"So you're REALLY rich…"
Probably use to the gaping of his guests at the sight of his house (more like a MANSION), the man brushed off the compliment and jogged up the front marble steps with clacks of his loafers and pushed open the double front doors. "Please, come in."
Chica rolled her shoulders and nonchalantly strolled on after her client, looking around, amused. A sense of exhilaration filled the pit of her stomach and send goose bumps across her skin. In a rich house like this, there were certainly many opportunities and tiny objects worth a lot of bucks that she can get her hands on and slip on in her purse. As the man marched down the main hallway, Chica casually brushed a crystal bird from off a shelf that was draped with picture frames, plaques and was PLOP! right into her purse. She also plucked a golden bracelet or two that was left lying around on a table used for decoration against the wall in the hallway. Nothing could stop the mischievous smile from itching its way on her face as she patted her purse to feels its contents, satisfied.
The deeper they went in the hallway, the darker it got. The ceiling lights were dimmed low and the windows stopped a few feet ago, and so did the doors. At the very end of the hallway were white double doors with small black knobs, potted plants sitting on either side of them. He was rubbing his brow tiredly, his other hand shoved in his pants pocket until he approached the door and flung the doors open, revealing his master bedroom.
It was white; practically everything was white and modern. A sheer gray rug was underneath the bed with clean duvets, colorfully stitched pillows and a fur blanket. There was a balcony that led out to a tea table and stools that overlooked his backyard towards the west- a pool with a waterfall, a brick barbeque and a fire pit and past all that was the city skyline where Chica could only daydream how gorgeous the sunsets must be, shining into the pristine white bedroom.
She unconsciously walked over to the slide doors that led to the balcony, pressing her palms to the glass. Her heart swelled up from the beauty but the man just kicked his shoes off and removed his suit jacket.
"The balcony is the reason why my wife wanted this house."
This was typical, but Chica turned around and pretended to be roused. "Oh? You're married?"
Her fakeness was clear to the man who chuckled in reply, tugging his tie off. "Yeah, this huge house doesn't give it away."
"Children?"
"We're trying."
"Oh."
Chica ran her fingers across the top of the bed and through the strands on the fur blanket. "Well I sure hope you have protection on you." She murmured before she slowly sat down on what she presumed was the wife's side of the bed due to the lip balm, makeup remover wipes and feminine wire frame reading glasses.
She caught the sight of the man's eyes hesitantly roaming over her body, biting at his lip slightly as she crossed her legs and revealed her garter, but got distracted when he spotted the glasses on the nightstand. "Uh, she must have been in a rush…" He walked over and gently touched them. Chica took the close contact as an opportunity to run her hands up his arms and across his chest.
"Where is your wife, anyway?" She inquired in almost a whisper.
"Visiting her mother." He breathed out the second Chica brushed her fingers against his clothed skin. "Won't be back…until tomorrow."
Chica hummed and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him down towards her eye level and pressing a tiny kiss to his ear. "We've got plenty of time. Take your pants off for me, pretty please?"
His hands immediately flew to his belt buckle and zipper as he wiggled his way out of his trousers with the help of Chica. He kept his head bowed throughout the process, taking in quick, short gasps everytime Chica's fingers touched his bare skin. He reacted in ways like he's never been touched before, or the adrenaline was too much for him. Within a few short minutes he had shoved Chica on her back in the middle of his queen sized bed, standing over her on his hands and knees and immediately attacking her cheeks, neck and chest in a flurry of kisses. The escalation left Chica speechless and shaking a bit by how quickly he took over. He was breaking a handful of her rules but he was too agrressive to stop. She shuddered and positioned her arms limply above her head as he continued on. Just thinking about how loaded this guy was and the payment she would get in the end made her heart flutter in excitement rather than the treatment she was getting now. She was snapped out of her money grabbing thoughts once he started dry humping her erratically, holding her unusually close but she still played along with it. Gripping the hair in back of his head, Chica rolled her head back and moaned out to the room.
"Ohh, yes."
Chica choked when all his weight gave out and fell right on top of her, nearly knocking the wind out of her lungs. She tossed her head from side to side, trying see what had happened and was dumbfounded when the body laying on top of her began to shake.
The man began crying. He wrapped her arms around her bigger body and squeezed her as he cried pitifully into her shoulder.
Chica froze stiff, her mind racing. She rethought everything that happened just seconds ago in her head and tried to make the connection as she slowly began to run her hand up and down his trembling back. Was it what she said? Did she do something wrong? Did he do something wrong? He was sobbing softly into the nape of her neck and she could feel the tears rolling down her skin and being soaked in the sheets below her. He remained there for a long time, approximately eight minutes because her eyes kept darting back to the alarm clock next to her head. The tight embrace they were in was actually comforting, and it was a while since she hugged someone…
"It's alright, honey, just let it all out." Chica cooed and stroked the man's hair repeatedly, barely pushing her body side to side in an attempt to rock the crying man in her arms. Growing tired herself, she eventually stopped but kept rubbing his back after pulling the covers over their half bare bodies, until the man finally stirred from his crying and pulled away. He hid his tear stained face from her by shielding his arm over it.
"I'm so sorry," his voice rasped, "this never happens, especially w-when doing something like…this." He looked exhausted and weak, like he could collapse any minute.
Chica observed his features; the bags under his eyes and his shallow cheeks. She innocently racked her stubby fingers through the locks of his hair and ran that hand down his jawline to make him face her. "It's fine, sweetie. I understand. You get all the rest you need and we can do this another time?"
She smiled sweetly and started to get up until his arm flew in front of her chest, pinning her back. "No, w-wait!"
Chica gripped the sheets underneath her and looked at him quizzically. "What, what's wrong?"
The man was laying on his stomach, hardly keeping himself lifted by leaning on his forearm, leaving the other arm resting on her chest. He kept his face buried in his pillow but she managed to catch him sheepishly peeking out.
"Could you stay the night with me? Please, I—"
"Oh, no," Chica moaned and started getting up again. "I'm so sorry, but I'm not allowed to, uh,"
"Please," he begged, pathetically, "I will pay you however much you want—you don't have do anything else just please stay…with me."
Chica stopped and looked him in the eyes and sighed. While the mention of money certainly was the factor that convinced her to lay back down in the bed, the sad, drooping eyes of her client left an ache in her heart. She extended her arms out so the man could crawl back in her arms and vented to her for the next half hour.
"I don't want a baby...my wife does, but I don't. I can't stand this marriage. I feel trapped. When I first met her, it was so fun like every day was an adventure. But once we got married, I didn't feel that exhiliration anymore. She's sucked the life out of me. I can't bring a baby in this loveless marriage, but I can't tell her that. I just needed one night of something meaningless. She was away for the weekend, I couldn't help myself, but I broke down. I'm such an idiot...I just want my old life back."
He eventually drifted off to sleep, but Chica stayed awake for longer. She wasn't a therapist and she definately couldn't solve her own problems
