Chapter 2 - The Hookup

I often sold my body in high school. I was gifted at sex; I had known since I was fourteen years old when guys significantly older than me would often say, "no girl has ever been able to do that before". I was fitter than most girls, which a core made of steel. I could easily make a strip pole out of a male body. Speaking of which – they loved my lap dances that I threw in for free atop of toilet seats in the male lavatory. I was the school slut, or one of many. And trust me, Robert was not that far behind.

He slept with a new girl every damned week before we started dating. He was so sexy. He was also a drug dealer, having been obsessed with business and profit since grade school. I often came to him to buy ecstasy before parties on Fridays. I wasn't hung up on snatching him up at the time. I was very into my work.

It wasn't until one odd day he approached me for my services. Fifteen years of age, holding four hundred dollars in his hands. My eyes stayed locked onto his as I was all-business with my dyed blonde hair in dreadlocks.

"I just want a good time. No strings attached. You're familiar with these interactions."

"Don't worry about a thing." I assured him that I had no significant feelings in the playful look I shot him. I just saw him as a client. His money didn't make me jump up and down – I had been with rich men before and they all had the same thing in common.

They just wanted someone to talk to. Someone to desire them on a level that was primal.

—

"Undress."

Our date went well. He took me out to dinner and fingered me at the movies that he paid extra to get into. We went to a fucking porn theatre. I got in with my fake ID and he used his financial power. You'd be surprised how careless the staff were when extensive dollar bills were waved in their faces. We were all impoverished to some degree.

I threw my bra on the floor. Then came my bodycon dress.

"I enjoyed you in that dress but this is much better." He remarked, stepping forward. He grabbed my breast with one hand and slapped my ass cheek with the other. He was a dom. "Look at those tits."

I let him take one in his mouth and suck gently. I had natural DD cups; a gift from my mother's genetic pool I used well. He seemed to appreciate him just like every other man I allowed on me.

He laid me down on the bed and took out his big cock. I closed my thighs and lifted my pelvis into the air, making sure my snatch was extra tight along with my thighs he was going to be partially fucking. It was a whore trick I had learned through hearsay in the circle I was in. Someone's sister was quite the professional. It had taken me months of core work to learn this sex position.

He came quite fast as he stood atop my feet I used to lift him into the air as he thrusted – another trick I had learned along the way. He begged to please me afterward, claiming he had never fucked someone so skilled with their body. A compliment I often received.

I rode his face for an hour. His tongue pressed against my clit as I ground my hips from side to side, curling my toes and moaning loudly on his bed. He licked me so good I fucking cried.

That day forward, I felt closer to him. Closer in a way no amount of short term bliss or euphoria could outmatch. Some say a little sex was all you needed to discover how compatible you were with someone. I knew instantly that Robert was the only one for me.

—

I was a social outcast in high school. That girl at parties who danced alone and sold Ketamine vials to students who wanted to get fucked up. People called me the "blonde with the dreads".

No one really approved of Robert and I's new relationship. In the hallway, I overheard a girl say, "I heard Robert Schumann is dating that hooker. You know, the one with the hair. Not the redhead – Sasha is her name! Right."

That hooker. I was so much more than a fucking business I ran. They were obviously jealous. Sex workers were vixens. Every girl knew that, and that was why we were hated on. No girl looked at another woman who used sex as a weapon and healthily envied her. They hated her. I had something they didn't – the ability to control a man with what was between my legs.

Robert and I's relationship lasted throughout high school. We just inevitably loved each other from day one. My parents loved him. His parents "accepted" me. I also quit my job as a hooker as he was the only person I wanted. Everything was swell.

Our fights weren't even that serious. Because he was a Libra and I was a Scorpio, he submitted to the power a longed to have over him. He knew by the look in my eyes I could fuck with his head in many ways and chose not to. Just because I loved him so much it matured me.

We stayed in love for five whole years before we successfully married each other at twenty. It was a small marriage of just our families and close friends since we were an introverted couple. Funny, given that so many people looked at us in the masses of attention we gained.

The marriage was a memorable night despite allowing my BPD to let me binge drink champagne and drunkenly black out. I came out of my period of stupor to find Robert snorting lines of coke on the private jet on our way to our honeymoon in

Jamaica.

We were a perfect modern couple. He took care of me and accepted me for the way I was, in terms of mental health. He agreed to always love me as long as I didn't sleep with anyone else. (Trust me, I didn't want to. With most clients being selfish men who used me for a cumbody, no one from my work was missed.)