$300 in three days in three acts

$300 in three days in three acts #nsfw #cw for attempted #sexualassault

a father of two pre-teens has me join him at a tacky pizza joint near his house. he is just barely ageing out of being extremely good-looking in a Nordic sort of way, is very tall, short hair thinning. we had met about a year before from a sugar dating site and (i found out later) a follow-up text from him was never delivered and so i figured he wasn’t interested. (i curse the app i use to text my clients that it swallowed this potential business from me). he had invited me to dinner- maybe just dinner?– but i had shaved anyways. he invited me back to his place. that’s good for me because it means more money. he is soft-spoken, software analyst turned race car parts manufacturer.

he is absolutely ruthless in bed, from zero to sixty in less than a minute with a keen interest in pounding deep into me, which i sometimes love and sometimes am uncomfortably overwhelmed by. i discover quickly that he is not quick to cum. fuck, i think. keeping up with this crazy pace for a crazy amount of time just became real hard work. he uses his hands, and it’s too much so i fake an orgasm, then am startled to see a puddle of fluid all over his bed. i figure it’s the lube he drizzles on everything? then, it happens again. i squirted. definitely for the first time. first two times. what a let down- it happened with someone who i don’t care about, and it literally felt like faking an orgasm.

after about an hour i call it quits. he’s somewhat disappointed in me, but asks me to touch him. three rounds of lube drying out later and a definite bicep workout finally brings in the results, clocking our sex time together at around 2 hours. i desperately want it to be over. i get a spatter of come on my arm. we shower- he has a double showerhead. he hands me $300, chortling about how awkward it is to pay me. the amount is disappointing, for four total hours of effort.

an upper midwestern mogul with parents in town is looking for a side-piece for when he’s visiting, when he has to get his maserati serviced, when he wants to golf. i think people who golf- especially in the desert where green grass has no place- are as bad as arms dealers, but now i entertain both. we’re at a white tablecloth establishment, a rarity in my town, with french food. he offers me wine and i explain why i don’t drink. he apologizes and makes clear he doesn’t want me to feel pressured. i tell him i can hold my own, but thank you.

it becomes immediately apparent that he is the target audience for exactly the kind of dog-and-pony show i can put on. i order food in my good french accent, and we talk about how i speak fluent french. he loves france. i talk about my masters degree and how i worked for a non-profit in precisely the african country he’s about to visit to deal in agricultural trade. i tell him he could be a lawyer or a poet, and he tells me he studied latin poets in college and dropped out of law school. i’m knocking it out of the park.

he explains how he deals in arrangements, not transactional for time, and not a monthly allowance, but in removing the friction. he tells stories of getting others out of jams, their cars snapped from the jaws of repossession and the like. my mind teems with how little i want to constantly be inventing crises for him to respond to- for being in this line of work, i’m not the most convincing liar. so i’m up front with him- while i’m not very good at making a lot of money, i’m very good at being poor, and such crises don’t often crop up for me. but, i do have almost 100k in student debt. he frowns, understandingly. got him. if i see him regularly, i might have to actually use the money he gives me towards those loans, but i guess that’s not a bad thing. he takes me to see his tesla (his other car) (i hate getting into cars with them), asks if i would like some money to cover incidentals in my upcoming travels. i say yes. he hands me three crisp one-hundred dollar bills.

i knew this guy would be pushy. i knew he would not last long in my rotation. he still surprised me, though. he said when we met that he didn’t much care for condoms. i told him i preferred them, and implied it could be an ongoing conversation. really, i knew i would never have sex with this guy without condoms. i don’t do that, ever. but maybe i could get one time out of him, i’m saving up, after all. we sext a little and he goes dark, fast. i say that i want to use condoms, implying that i’m sleeping around too much to guarantee it’ll be safe for him. he enjoys this line. i’m not excited about this, but am confident in my ability to hold my own.

so we make it to his pied-a-terre that he shares with a friend that they both use to conduct their extramarital affairs. i had left work for a ‘doctor’s appointment’ so i had changed into some outrageous heels, his preference. he’s grabby, gets me naked fast, and i fake an orgasm or two. he becomes more and more fixated on the condom, talks about all the things he would do to me if he weren’t wearing it, how long he would last. i deflect.

his dirty talk gets awful. calls me a slut and a whore, wants to hear what my other partners do to me, how they get to fuck me without a condom. he uses the word rape, constantly. i hate it. my antenna is up. already i know i’m not going to see this guy again. somewhere around round two he takes the condom off and says he should probably clean up because otherwise he would rape me. would i like that? i tell him no. he leans in, close to me, and asks again, would i like that? not today, i say. he tries a few more times. i say no, i deflect, i say no. i’ve kept the heels on in bed and feel confident in my ability to gouge out his eyes or kick him away if he tries to take me by force. but it doesn’t get to that. he leaves to wash off. i get ready as quickly as i can. he offers me a ride to my car which i only take because he has a business lunch afterwards (so isn’t about to hurt me) and goddamnit why do we have to get in their cars to get paid. he hands over the money, soliloquizing about how when i get back from my travels, we’ll get tested and then we’ll see each other regularly ‘the way that we both want.’ sure, dude. i leave, sit in my car, and try to catch my breath and let the adrenaline slow to a simmer.