Surviving on Your Own
Paying for It
Landing on Mars in a shady hanger, I pay the owner one million bucks in cash to keep my craft off the books. I can tell that he wants to question who I am and why I have so much money on hand, but he keeps quiet, not wanting to push it with me. Which is good, I've been practicing my "Heero Glare", a fun weapon that says "back the fuck off and don't ask questions".
"Alright, Trowa Barton, you're ship is safe here," the fat hanger keeper soothes and takes the backpack full of money. It's somewhat strange hearing someone call me by his name, but I like it as well.
After I take another backpack of one million, I lock my aircraft up with the best security renforcements money can buy. No one will be able to break in and steal my shit. They'll be electrocuted if they try.
Half an hour later and I've got myself a decent room in a midlevel luxury hotel. Why not indulge a little in the finer things while I'm going rogue? But not too fine to draw any attention, besides I don't need all the fancy smancy things people think I need. Being a "Winner" comes with a certain stigma, and I don't require all the extravagances that come with that name.
A little over an hour later and I'm roaming through the casino. Flashing lights, high pitched chinging noises, and jovial laughter flutter about as I walk through the cigarette and cigar smoke filled gambling area. Sitting a black jack table, I order a gin and tonic from a skantally clad waitress and begin to chase the high I lust after.
Round after round and I'm up, a little tipsy and feeling better than I have in a long fucking time. Changing scenes I try my hand at Texas Hold 'em, roulette, and a few slot games. The slots I don't care for so much, I like games involving other people. Besides, poker is my all time favorite so I wrap the night up with that.
While I'm up three grand, I notice a lean brunette man learing at me from one of the slot machines. Attempting to ignore him doesn't help much, I can feel the weight of his brown eyed gaze on me. Looking back at him, he winks at me. I blush and he grins.
I finish my game, collect my money and walk towards the elevators, but not before I give the brunette a silent signal for him to follow me. The beautiful man follows my lead. On our way up to my floor he confirms, "It's eight hundred for the whole night." Finished with a wink.
The troubled feeling in my stomach and heart told me he may be a prostitute. I shouldn't pay for sex, but...I want it...want the physical connection with another...man. My mind rages with me as I admit that fact. I shouldn't want to be with a man in an intimate setting, but I can't help it. I want to see his body. Touch it. Taste him.
Though the alcohol has lessened my inhibitions, it still feelings wrong...but right? How can this feel right?
We enter my room, and I hang my head low, conflicted with myself. The 'Pro' senses my unease and pulls me lightly at the wrist further into the bedroom.
"Don't worry sweatheart," he soothes. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for." He winks. I begin to remove my shirt with my eyes focused on the ground.