Memoirs of a Gigolo: Virgin Territory (CONT'D)

I lie in bed wondering how the sequence of events in my life had culminated in this choice of vocation – a gigolo. I’m not allowed to dwell on this thought for long though as my naked client barks her orders.

"Talk dirty, get me in the mood".

"Oooh, you’re breasts are like…". I pause for thought as my mind lists possible similes. Fried eggs? No. Melons? No, too passé. Oranges? I like oranges.

"You’re breasts are like oranges".

"What does that mean?"

"I honestly don’t know. Dirty talk isn’t my forte".

"So what is your forte?"

"Probably squash".

"I mean in the bedroom".

I pause for thought, can’t decide so close my eyes and lean forward for a kiss. We kiss. She smiles that horsey smile. Then I offer her a mint from my gigolo kit bag. Unfortunately she declines.

"What else is in the bag? Sex toys?"

"No sex toys I’m afraid. That said I’m a sex toy of sorts".

"Really? How’s that then?"

"...as in I facilitate sexual pleasure".

My matter of fact answer leaves her looking distinctly unimpressed. Something suddenly dirty pops to mind. In an act of redemption I adopt a low sensual tone and say:

"I want to lick you up and down till you say stop. Let me play with your body baby and make you real hot, let me do all the things that you want me to do..."

"...'cos tonight baby I want to get freaky with you'. You're just reciting lyrics from Another Level".

"Am I?? I am aren't I. Yeah, it's 'Freak Me' by 'Another Level'. Sorry".

"We’ve chatted long enough" she says bluntly.

"Defile me!".

My body shudders. I really don’t want to have sex with this woman. Lots of people don’t enjoy their jobs, but they just roll their sleeves up, get their head down, suck it up, and get the job done. I pause in thought, lean over to get the water-based lube and decide to do exactly that.

The messy end.

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