Fiction by Jeremy Void
Inspired by a true story
I was 24. My friend Roy had promised to buy me a prostitute for my birthday. I’d never been with a prostitute before. I mean, I almost did once. I was doing a lot of drugs at the time and feeling rather desperate so I called the number for an escort service and made the arrangements. I told the operator that I had two hundred twenty-five dollars and she told me how much time that would equal out to and said the girl would be with me in an hour. I was so excited. I cleaned the pipes—it took me no more than fifteen minutes, what with the anticipation of the following events making me anxious to cum///a bit too anxious, if you ask me. For the next twenty to thirty minutes I tried on different articles of clothing and gazed in the mirror hoping I looked my best. I flirted with the mirror a bit, but couldn’t get my image looking entirely right, so I gave up when I realized it doesn’t matter how I looked, I was paying for a service and she’d fuck me no matter what. For the remainder of the time, I paced my apartment. The doorbell rang. I opened it and out there stood this tall girl in pumps, her breasts full and large, her ass tight and smooth inside her shorts, a thong hanging out the back, and a bouncing view of cleavage showing over her shirt. I already felt my dick starting to rise. She was sooo hot. She came inside. I just stared at her. She returned the stare with what I assumed was annoyance. Instantly I snapped out of it and patted my pockets for the money I was planning on paying her with, but then remembered I had left it in my other pair of pants which were lying on the floor in the bathroom. She walked past me and I was gaping and my pants were tightening and her legs shined and her ass narrowed and widened as she said: “Gotta use the bathroom.” I watched her enter. I couldn’t avert my eyes. When the door shut, I practically jumped out of my skin. Didn’t think of it before. I hurried to my dresser, ripped open the drawer, and starting scrummaging through scrap papers and pens until I found a condom. Pulled it out. I was so excited to see one in there—considering I hadn’t expected to find one after all and I’d be forced to copulate with0ut protection—that I actually brought the package to my lips and kissed it. I grabbed the breath freshener off the top of my dresser, sprayed a dab in my mouth, exhaled into my palm, and smelled it; it smelt marvelous. I was ready. Moments later she exited the bathroom and I felt rather self-conscious about the raging hard-on protruding from my pants, as though it wasn’t the right time yet for me to get a hard-on, and I was antsy and impatient but didn’t want those emotions to show. I crossed my legs and leaned forward. She held up a handful of bills and said: “Is this the money?” I nodded. She said: “Hold on. Gotta bring it to my girl outside. Be right back.” She crossed my apartment and I held my breath till she reached the front door and opened it and stepped out into the cold air and closed the door behind her; then I exhaled deeply. I hurried to the window and stared out. She was talking to another woman. Cute, too. But fully clothed. Then the second woman opened a car door and both of them got in and they were off. .…So close. But now, at 24, I would actually get to fuck a prostitute. I started drinking early. A buzz overtook my senses, and I was feeling rather calm and confident. A knock at my door. I opened it. My friend Roy stood there beside this young, gorgeous girl. Not quite what I’d expect a prostitute to wear, almost as if she was off duty or something, but she looked clean and innocent and that’s what mattered. Already I was undressing her with my eyes. I was so excited. My friend said: “This is Marla.” She held out her right hand and I clutched it in my own and brought it up to my lips and pecked the back. She turned to my friend and said: “Oh, he’s so charming.” Roy turned to me and said: “Yeah, we were just gonna go hang out at my place.” He lived next door to me; I thought this was a joke. I asked if I could come hang out too. He said three’s a crowd and besides they’re gonna fool around for a bit and there wasn’t room for another guy to join the party. I felt deflated. Marla looked at my friend, diverted her eyes to me, then dropped them down the length of my body from head to toe as if quickly checking me out or something, and when her eyes reached my crotch, she kept her left eye in that general direction but cocked her right eye to point at me, an all-knowing glare. I guess my friend had forgotten. He said: “Happy birthday!” Marla offered me a hug and pulled herself in real close, kissed me on the cheek, and whispered in my ear: “Happy birthday.” Pinched my ass before releasing me. The two of them left and I watched out the window till they were gone from my sight. Then I drank some more, depressed. Sat down on the couch, sighed. I reached in my pants and caressed my raging hard-on softly. Pulled down my pants and gripped it firmly when a knock came from the door. I stood up and pulled my pants back on and tucked my hard cock between my waistband and my stomach. Assuming it was Roy at the door I didn’t bother checking out the window or in the peephole; just craned the door open. It was not Roy. A woman maybe in her 30s stood out there. She said: “Are you Roy’s friend? It’s your birthday?” My hard-on started to deflate. She wore loose shorts and sticking out of the holes were two pale bruised and scarred legs. She wore a blue tanktop with wiry arms, adorned in scars and bruises too, sticking through the holes. Her lips were burnt. Her right eye was black and swollen. My dick hung there limp. She entered my apartment, without an invitation. I just stared at her. I was appalled. Didn’t know what to say. “Okay,” she growled. “Where do you wanna put it?” She dropped her shorts to reveal a pair of dirty granny panties. I gulped. Vomited in my mouth. My first instinct was to help her. Like a lost child. I said: “Are you addicted to heroin?” Her lips spread apart to reveal green and yellow and blackened teeth that parted in places like a picket fence missing a couple of posts. She nodded. “Crack too?” She nodded again. “That’s horrible,” I told her. “I can help you get sober,” I promised her. I heard a slight moaning come from Roy’s apartment next door. I pretended to not hear it. “Come move in with me and I’ll help you get sober.” “You don’t wanna fuck me?” she pleaded. I didn’t know what to say. It would be wrong to take advantage of her desperation like that. I gulped. Vomited in my mouth. She took the silence as her cue, and said: “Sure, but I gotta grab my stuff.” “Okay,” I said. “Let’s go.” I hopped on the train to her place. She flirted with me. I kept my distance. I drank more. We got to her place and I was tired and I figured I’d take a nap and bring her back to my place in the morning. I fell asleep on the burnt and torn mattress. In the morning I woke up without the slightest clue as to where I was. There was an acrid smell in the air. Raw and potent. Toxic. I looked around me and that girl was freebasing in the corner. Another girl was nodding off on the couch with a needle hanging from her arm. Beside her a scrawny black man in boxer shorts and a white tanktop was cradling a cigarette in his pointer and middle finger and trying to keep his eyes open and his head up; the cigarette smoldered on its own and a trail of ashes hung from the tip. Across from them the TV buzzed and played static. I sat up, looked at the girl I came here with. She held the lighter beneath a sheet of tinfoil and the powder sizzled as she pulled the rising smoke up into a metal tube. Her body arched back and her lips curled. She looked at me. Our eyes met. She smiled. I leaned over and vomited. My head ached. It took a moment for me to remember where I was. I didn’t even bother to say anything, just rushed out the door and slammed it shut behind me. When I got home, Roy sat on my front steps smoking a cigarette. It looked like he was waiting for me. He wore a conniving grin on his face. He said: “Fun night last night?” My head bowed, I grunted. He laughed. I lumbered past him and up the steps and through my door and slammed it shut.