*read all of the chapters for Swipe Right – The Chronicles of an Unpaid Prostitute in order here
I held my breath. Not disappointed for the first time that night, I immediately received a text message
‘Hey gorgeous, yourself,’ I typed in response as I climbed into bed.
‘Tell me what you’re wearing.’ Oh, hello! He started talking dirty and I instantly recoiled. It felt so forbidden but it felt good after the night I’d had. I had no idea how to respond. I’d never talked dirty to anyone in my life. I was awkward at almost everything I did, talking dirty would not be an exception to that. Taking the plunge, I responded, keeping it short and simple. Maybe less was more in the dirty talk department. He seemed to like it. We continued our little tête-à-tête; reading carefully what he was writing, I obeyed the commands he was dealing out and ten minutes later I found myself orgasming for the first time that night.
‘Thank you dick pic.’
‘My pleasure. Until next time, sweet dreams ma-d85.’
Until next time indeed, I smiled. ‘Night, SuperMan28.’
Over the weekend, I holed myself in my room and worked day and night on my project for work. I had a real chance at a promotion where I would get a legitimate title and more responsibilities. I sat surrounded by post it notes and idea boards for new campaign and I had some good ideas swimming around but I needed more. Pulling up Google, glorious Google, I searched the black hole of information, learning about Ben Davis and his thriving company. Looking through the Wikipedia search, I was surprised to see how young Mr. Davis was based solely on his success alone. His image, although blurry, looked to still be in his twenties and if he wasn’t, the man either had good genes or an amazing skin care routine. The man’s skin was wrinkle-free and flawless. Regardless of what Ben Davis looked like, my focus needed to be on making this project my best work yet.
Two hours later, I looked up from my computer screen to the sound of my roommate slamming our front door, screaming my name. Bounding from my chair, I ran into the living room to see her slump onto the couch. “What’s wrong? What happened?” I demanded. “Are you alright?”
Jamie threw her arm over her face, letting out a defeated breath at the same time. “I just came from the doctor’s.”
“Okay.” I was suddenly concerned, treading carefully.
“They gave me some news.”
I was holding my breath. “And what was that news?”
“I need a glass of wine.”
“I’ll get you one in a minute. Tell me what the doctor said.”
She took a deep breath. “Okay. Well, you know how I met that one guy a couple months ago and we’ve been kind of seeing each other?”
“Which one? You date like three different guys a week.”
“That is an exaggeration,” she argued.
“Barely. But okay, I think I know which one you’re talking about.”
“Okay well, apparently he gave me a… gift.”
I choked on my breath of horror. “A gift?”
“Chlamydia,” she said over a cough and a whine.
“I’m sorry, can you repeat that.”
“You heard me!”
I clamped my lips shut at a burst of laughter tried to escape. It wasn’t funny, well not really. It was more out of shock than anything. “So what now?” I managed to ask.
“Now I have to take these little pills and I apparently have to make a few phone calls. To everyone I’ve slept with in the past month.”
“Oh god.” Horrifying. “And how many is that?”
“Well, there is the giver, he’ll get a piece of my mind. And one other.”
“Okay, not so bad.”
“Not so bad? Do you want to make the phone call for me?”
“Never in a million years. Good luck to you, friend.”
“Hooker,” she muttered as I walked back to my room.
“Nope, I believe you hold that title. Your doctor would agree with me.” She threw a pillow, just barely missing me.
The next day I climbed the stairs to my apartment, a bead of sweat trickling down my temple as the grocery bags I was carrying started burning my forearms. As I reached the top, there he was. Darryl stood, leaning against the wall between my door and his in a red Hugh Heffner robe drinking a red wine spritzer out of a mason jar. How did I know it was a red wine spritzer? Because, “Hey Maddie!”
“Hey Darryl. How’s it going?”
“It’s going. Got myself a red wine spritzer, so can’t be too bad, right? It was the only thing I could find. Wish it was something harder, but it is what it is.”
“Darryl, its ten o’clock in the morning.”
“Breakfast of champions.”
“Touché.” I dropped my bags in front of my door, not able to carry them any further. Damn they were heavy, what the hell did I buy?
“Did I ever tell you that I am a musician?”
Oh boy. “Yes, you have actually.” Every time we speak.
“Yeah, well it’s true. I was actually on MTV when I was younger. There’s a video online, you should check it out.”
“I will definitely do that.” Maybe. “What do you play again?”
“The guitar. You should hear me riff. I’m actually going to get back into it. Maybe record an album or something.”
“Totally self-taught,” he continued, loving the sound of his own voice. “I got a guitar one year for Christmas and just never put it down. I was considered a child prodigy. I’m really good.”
“Wow,” I muttered, digging the keys out of my purse as he paused to take a breath and down the rest of his spritzer.
“Looks like I’m in need of a refill,” he said, laughing to himself. “I’ll be right back, I’ll get the link for the video.” I watched him walk back into his apartment, leaving the door slightly open. I made my mad dash through my own, stumbling over the grocery bags before I closed it behind me, making the great escape. I wanted to high five myself. I didn’t think I’d said a full sentence and I was exhausted. Moving to the kitchen, I started bopping my head to the sound of Jamie’s fuck you mom and dad music. She was still angry about her… predicament.
After putting the groceries away and ignoring the few calls of my name from the hallway, I stood in front of Jamie’s half closed door, pushing it open so I could see her. I watched as she furiously cleaned every surface and as the song died down I became the funniest bitch I know. I started a loud slow clap from the doorway. She looked up at me. “Do you get it? I’m clapping for you because you have the clap.”
“Yes, I’m aware of what you’re doing, THANK YOU.” I laughed as she whipped the closest stuffed animal at me. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”
“No, that’s what happens when you’re a dirty skank.”
“You should know.” She slumped down on her mattress fighting a smile. “Come cheer me up and tell me about how you didn’t get an STI Friday night, you still haven’t told me how the date went.”
Sitting down beside her I huffed out my own sigh. “Well, to make a long story short, it wasn’t great.”
“That’s disappointing, he was hot. What happened?”
“Um, I got there, he was amazingly hot. Even better looking than his pictures. Asked me if I wanted to just go up to his apartment, and when your vagina screams YES, you need to listen.”
“So we went up to his condo, which was impressive I might add, we had a few drinks, then we started making out. And girl, I have not made-out with someone in so long and it was so good. But then it took a dark turn.”
“He started kissing my neck and I started to feel things, then he dropped his pants, and then the feelings went away. And I didn’t think you could actually feel something past nothing, but you can, because not only was my engine not hot, it wasn’t even lukewarm when his was ready to go and taking off. Didn’t even give a girl a chance. Then I blinked and it was over and he actually asked me, actually asked me if I needed to go clean up.”
“Yes. So what the hell am I supposed to do with that?”
“What did you do?” she asked, outraged on my behalf.
“I got up and went to the bathroom, went through his medicine cabinet and stuff, contemplated masturbating my frustrations out, didn’t. Then after a minute or two I came out, got dressed and told him I was leaving.”
“And that’s it?”
“That’s it. That’s all the fat lady sang.”
“What a waste of a good face,” Jamie sighed, dramatically.
“Totally agree. He made sure I had his number though, said ‘we should do it again sometime.’ Maybe I’d use it if he was the last man on earth and my goal was not to have an orgasm.”
“I wonder if he’s ever heard of foreplay. I really hope he doesn’t think that the kissing of a neck is foreplay.”
“He’s a taker for sure, definitely not a giver. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a trail of disappointed females in his past.”
“Do you think he’s scared of the P?” P meant pussy.
“Well damn, it’s not some evil overlord. And I got that shit waxed and everything.” I sighed. “What a waste.”
Jamie hummed. “Well you know what that means.”
“You’ll just have to show it to someone who’s not afraid of the P and who is dutifully skilled in giving out orgasms.”
“Where do we find such a person?”
*tomorrow – Chapter Eight