Nine

Prologue

A Typical Day

I’m standing here naked and staring at him as he dips his hand into his wallet. It was the same hand that was planted on my ass cheek not even an hour earlier. It was the same hand that was gently wrapped around my throat thirty minutes ago, and it will be the same hand of the man who returns home to his wife in the next fifteen minutes. I slide into my panties as he quickly zips and buttons up his pants, and then I watch as he tosses crisp hundred dollar bills on the bed next to me. I look down at the cash and then back up to him. He’s grinning, a usual side effect from our dirty little night. It’s anI just had my brains fucked sillytype of expression. I don’t want to smile back, but it’s a habit. This sexual game we play is already set into motion the very moment any man meets me. He licks his lips while he eyes me up and down. I’m waiting, standing there perfectly still, with my tits out and fuck-me eyes glued to him. He leans in and grips my waist with both hands. I remain silent. My job is done. The cash is on the bed and I’m ready to leave, but I can’t. Not yet. I have to stay in character for a little longer. He’s thirsty for me, and if I give him just a drop, he’ll keep coming back for more. I’m setting mental traps in that head of his and he doesn’t even know it. These men never do. Fucking Idiots.

“If my wife did half the stuff you just did, I’d be a happy man.”

I smirk, and play with the ends of my hair. The wordsmy wifecircle in my head for a few seconds until I push them far out of my thoughts. I put one finger in my mouth and playfully bite it.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” He asks, as his hands find their way to my ass. He gives it a tight squeeze. “I want to tie you up and taste that pretty little kitty of yours again.”

He gently nuzzles his face into my neck. He inhales long and hard as if he’s trying to breathe me in. It’s the aroma that’s intoxicating. My skin carries the scent of sex more than it did previously of perfume, and apparently, that mix drives most men crazy. I remain silent, forcing him to work for a response.

“Please,” he pleads, before he drops to one knee and pushes his face against my underwear. He’s down there inhaling my crotch like it’s a damn rose. It’s nothing he hasn’t done a dozen times before. The guy has a serious thing for crotch sniffing. So what? I stare down at him and watch him nip at my panties with his teeth. “Please,” he moans into the fabric again, as he runs his hands up and down my legs.

He’s addicted to me, just like the rest. I slowly squat down in front of him, place the palm of my hand on his cheek, and look at him with adoring eyes. He knows what’s coming. He knows the rules. They all do, and they all want to break them.

“Baby.” I pause. “You’ll have to take a number and wait in line. You’re not the only one who likes to take this pussy cat out of its cage.”