Aftermath Awkwardness

[CassidyTheCowgirl]

(11-28-2017, 11:02 PM)GuyByThePond Wrote: *clasp*
*clasp*
*clasp*

A well written one.
We're not on the "make people bulge" part, but who cares.
Many good things.
Truly.
The hangover feel.
The way you introduce the money/escorting topic.

Liked it.

I'm really glad you liked it. Slow build up, ya know? Besides, a lot of the description is off my own experience so it's a little personal, but it helps write.

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Pg. 2:
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Carpet flooring, perfect for muffling the sound of my heels on the walk of shame from other hotel patrons.

I shouldn’t be so embarrassed. This was the capital of sex, after all, and I’d wager that more than half of these people would be waking up with someone whose name they don’t even remember.

Still…

The elevator bell rang, just in time, and I nodded at the exiting bellboy pushing a cart of fresh towels right before I took his now vacant place in the lift. The first floor had already been selected by the other man in the elevator; a tall, light-skinned hunk of a man in his church clothes.

He smiled at me, like someone would smile at a stray or a homeless person when you don’t have any change, and I couldn’t help but believe that he knew I’d just gotten fucked for money and that he pitied me.

There it was again. That self-loathing feeling. Creeping through my senses like ecstasy or a bad case of food poisoning. I struggled not to tear up, but the introspection of choices that led me to this lifestyle made swallowing my fit that much harder. I had already turned away, and the fucking elevator seemed to be suspended in place instead of moving.

I sniffled, barely composing myself, taking a deep and long breath of air while staring at the.. mirror.. on the sides of the elevator. And there he was still, trying his best not to look at me. I must’ve been quite the sight, crying at the creak of a friendly smile that probably meant nothing. I looked like shit; tussled hair, bloodshot eyes, wrinkled clothes, and the faint smell of sex and perfume that seemed to follow me everywhere nowadays. I couldn’t have looked more unattractive to this man…

Then he checked out my ass. His gaze lingered, and I imagined that he was going through all the possibilities that could come true if he had me all to himself, at least until the ride stops. When his eyes shot up to mine through the smudges of the mirror, everything I had just thought of became fact, the longing in his expression unmistakable, and I did what came naturally: I seized the opportunity.

I can’t recall actually moving toward him, but I was conscious during the throes of our tongues pressing against each other. His breath was hot and tasted like a burnt cigarette, hands groping my ass as if it'd disappear unless he squeezed and held it. The whiskers on his face scratched at my upper lip but I continued to press him against me in the frenzy of our heated saliva swapping.

I was running on autopilot, instinctual like a bitch in heat. In the short time I knew this man, I longed for him, loved him, hated him, and was disgusted. Most of all, I needed him. Now.

My knees, raw already, felt rough and jagged against the laminated wooden floor of the elevator. I felt like a child unwrapping a present on Christmas morning, except this Santa wasn’t my uncle and this belt.. well, actually, this was still a belt.

His pants dropped, and-

Fuck. That elevator bell. The doors slid open, and I heard a gasp from behind. My impromptu paramour raced to cover himself, work undone as his pants came back up, and I turned to stand, a group of people standing witness to our interrupted romp.

How quickly the mood disappears. Like a switch. All I wanted now was to leave, disappear, hide my face for a year or two, maybe stop drinking so damn much during the week.

I grabbed my purse and cleared my throat, feeling red in the face, shooting the stranger in the elevator a final quick glance before hurrying into the lobby.