I had to wrench the smirk from my face. I told myself that no, it would not be okay to stop and tell her exactly why she was wrong. I had to walk past her with seven hundred-dollar bills swinging inside my purse, completely visible to me with my X-ray vision.
That night I had two calls. The first was an hour away and I regretted agreeing to my usual rate. I'd only lived in the area as an adult and I'd never driven this far south before. The miles kept climbing up as I stared at the car's digital clock face and willed my exit number to come up.
It was dark on the highway and the car in front of me hit their brakes, and I started to brake too but I was too close and I floored the brake but I was still speeding towards their taillights and I wrenched the steering wheel to the left towards the guard rail and watched myself hurtling towards the metal barrier and hoped to God oh God please don't let me hit it and then I didn't hit it and my car came to a stop and the other car came to a stop and there was no collision.
I took a deep breath, the screeching sound of my brakes ringing in my ears, and pressed forward, feeling my mini skirt rise up my thighs to my crotch as I leaned forward in the seat.
When I got to the hotel it was about 8:45, and he had been waiting since 7. The john was actually young. Someone I could end up having sex with drunk. He told me to kiss him and I obeyed, running my hands over his shoulders and arms. I took off my shirt. "Look at these fucking huge titties," he said. "Fucking huge titties." He wanted a blow job and was amenable to a condom, so I trotted off and got one and put it on him.
He asked me to deep throat and I obliged, and when I started choking a little he got excited.
"Yeah, that's what I like," he said. "I want you to choke on it."
I tried to keep up but he was pretty large, and suppressing my gag reflex became more and more difficult. When I started making actual retching noises he moaned in delight. The minutes ticked on and on, and when I started regurgitating my dinner and swallowing it, over and over, I wondered if that was what he really wanted. Finally, after another thrust, I spewed all over his stomach.
I looked at him expectantly but his face was unreadable. So I apologized and ran off to the bathroom and came back out with a towel and cleaned him off. He never said a word to me the entire time, just kept looking at me with an inscrutable expression on his face.
When we were all cleaned up I came back to the bed, and asked him what he wanted, and he stared at me and said, "Let's keep going."
I looked at the clock beside the bed and the red numbers stared back at me: 9:09.