Chapter 4

I return home after being tag-teamed for $1500. I sat atop my friend's body taking one cock in my bottom and being pounded in the vagina by his friend. Double penetration. Stuffed in both holes like a dirty, filthy slut. I orgasmed about fifteen times.

I head straight into the shower to wash their bodily fluids off of my skin. Both of them leaked salty, sticky cum onto my forehead they had me write "WHORE" in eyeliner across. Thankfully, none of them had a fetish for peeing on women.

I soap my body in my favorite shower gel, rubbing til the bubbles are giant. I proceed to blow on them, watching them fly up into the air only to get popped by the shower water. I giggle.

This is my hooker wind-down meditation. Every one of us has one that often takes place in the shower, where we remove all mental preparation for selling our bodies and save it for later. You have two mindsets when you do sex work: yourself and your inner sex worker who comes out and does autopilot. One of those mindsets we save for work, obviously.

My final mission is to get to sleep. I push all memories of tonight out of my head and pull down my silk sleep mask when I am disturbed by a notification on my phone.

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Saw you with another man. Glad you've found happiness

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I quickly texted back, infuriated with what I'm reading. I recognized the number immediately as I don't forget names and addresses easily.

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You have the wrong number. I am a single mother of 2. Have a good night.

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Bing.

I read the response, my lips following along with the text.

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You know who this is, Sasha. Enjoy your night.

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Bastard. I want nothing to do with him. Richard Brooke. The professor who nearly swept me off my feet and backed out for an ex. I don't even think he realizes how valueless he made me look that day.

I don't care about how he is doing. I shut off my phone screen and go back to bed, blocking the number from further reaching me. I am furious at the audacity. I want to drag my keys across the passenger door of his stupid black Maserati. Just because he has the selfish gull to contact me after seeing me with one of my clients. What a f–

Oh.

I never told him I was a whore previously.

Either way, no man edges himself into a woman's life making such a profoundly piggish move. I am a fool for thinking he was ever a gentleman. Because of the woman I have grown into today, I will make sure he remembers to never have the nerve to cross me again.