late-night reactions to a calm demeanor.
Sure, there's lots of people out there with a crooked smile and a keen sense of balance, but there was something about the sheer awkward grace of Olivia that always kept me coming back. Sure, she was just a whore, I could never forget that, and her looks were not above average, but she had always made me believe that she preferred my company to that of her many other customers. Who knows, perhaps she really did; I would not be surprised to find that I was of surer stock than the rest of her clientele. Regardless, she was never gone long from her usual corner, and when she was I would generally take a seat in the coffee shop across the street. I don't know if she always looked there first, but it seemed that whenever she was dropped off from someone else's car (where she had just sold her mouth for $30) she would first turn my direction, and if I was there she always skipped to my table, knowing that I was waiting for her.
Over the last year, she had several times offered me sex for free, or at least at a reduced rate, but I always insisted on paying her the $75 that we had agreed upon when I had first asked her services that previous October. She had a gentle nature that is uncommon among those who sell themselves, and never used vulgar language. In fact, she was quite well-spoken, and many times I wondered about her true background. She would indulge your fantasies, yet never at the expense of her pride, which she kept intact even when bent over a car deep in a polluted alleyway in the early evening.
During lovemaking, she had the distinctive trait of excreting an exceptionally large amount of fluid, which undoubtedly cost her a great deal of repeat business. I'm sure that there were some John's who returned specifically for that reason, but I had always felt indifferent to the fact, except for acknowledging the need to remove my trousers completely or suffer a fairly large and pungent discoloration. She could produce an admittedly large amount of liquid, and if and when she orgasmed a flood would burst forth from between her thighs, and I would think of Long Beach, as a child, when I first waded out and felt a small breaker crash on me as the tide surged forward, seeming to ignore my presence in it's futile attempt to reach the dunes behind me.
I trusted her in my home, these days, and I would even allow her to spend the night if the hour was late and she had no other calls to make. The first time she slept in my bed, I had scarcely slept and watched her like a hawk, but she had never shown any desire to rob me, and that did not seem to be her nature. She would generally awaken me the next morning, frequently with sex or a blowjob, though I never expected it.
On one particular Friday, about a month ago, we returned to my apartment, as had become our custom, and disrobed in the bathroom while I began to fill the whirlpool bathtub. We had always used the bathroom for our trysts, as she could soak a mattress with just one encounter. She removed her clothes, and I entered her from behind while she gripped the sink for support. She would always close her eyes, and it would accentuate the half-smile that never left her face. I could feel her body rhythmically tensing, as she neared climax, and her breathing became more jagged. Her body shook slightly, and my lower half was awash in her excitement, which began to pool at my feet.
I turned her around, picked her up, and set her down on the edge of the sink. I again began to thrust, and I could feel small aftershocks running through her torso. She grabbed my hair, and for the first time in a year of illicit sex she opened her eyes and stared at my face.
Her body was rocked again by orgasm, and through the shudders she looked me in the eyes and said, "I... love... you..." I could see truth and desire twisted together in her eyes with concern and the reality of the situation. I picked her body up in my arms and carried her to the bathtub, remaining inside her the entire time. I slowly lowered her under the water, and began to fuck her one last time.
Within five minutes it was over, and she had never resisted once. I placed $75 on the edge of the bathtub, and at that moment, I truly believe that I loved Olivia back.
Over the last year, she had several times offered me sex for free, or at least at a reduced rate, but I always insisted on paying her the $75 that we had agreed upon when I had first asked her services that previous October. She had a gentle nature that is uncommon among those who sell themselves, and never used vulgar language. In fact, she was quite well-spoken, and many times I wondered about her true background. She would indulge your fantasies, yet never at the expense of her pride, which she kept intact even when bent over a car deep in a polluted alleyway in the early evening.
During lovemaking, she had the distinctive trait of excreting an exceptionally large amount of fluid, which undoubtedly cost her a great deal of repeat business. I'm sure that there were some John's who returned specifically for that reason, but I had always felt indifferent to the fact, except for acknowledging the need to remove my trousers completely or suffer a fairly large and pungent discoloration. She could produce an admittedly large amount of liquid, and if and when she orgasmed a flood would burst forth from between her thighs, and I would think of Long Beach, as a child, when I first waded out and felt a small breaker crash on me as the tide surged forward, seeming to ignore my presence in it's futile attempt to reach the dunes behind me.
I trusted her in my home, these days, and I would even allow her to spend the night if the hour was late and she had no other calls to make. The first time she slept in my bed, I had scarcely slept and watched her like a hawk, but she had never shown any desire to rob me, and that did not seem to be her nature. She would generally awaken me the next morning, frequently with sex or a blowjob, though I never expected it.
On one particular Friday, about a month ago, we returned to my apartment, as had become our custom, and disrobed in the bathroom while I began to fill the whirlpool bathtub. We had always used the bathroom for our trysts, as she could soak a mattress with just one encounter. She removed her clothes, and I entered her from behind while she gripped the sink for support. She would always close her eyes, and it would accentuate the half-smile that never left her face. I could feel her body rhythmically tensing, as she neared climax, and her breathing became more jagged. Her body shook slightly, and my lower half was awash in her excitement, which began to pool at my feet.
I turned her around, picked her up, and set her down on the edge of the sink. I again began to thrust, and I could feel small aftershocks running through her torso. She grabbed my hair, and for the first time in a year of illicit sex she opened her eyes and stared at my face.
Her body was rocked again by orgasm, and through the shudders she looked me in the eyes and said, "I... love... you..." I could see truth and desire twisted together in her eyes with concern and the reality of the situation. I picked her body up in my arms and carried her to the bathtub, remaining inside her the entire time. I slowly lowered her under the water, and began to fuck her one last time.
Within five minutes it was over, and she had never resisted once. I placed $75 on the edge of the bathtub, and at that moment, I truly believe that I loved Olivia back.