The Beginning My hooker wife wants real dicks
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The Accidental Hooker (Part 1) free porn video
Kim knew she was going to get fucked tonight. It might be actually fucked, or just so drunk the whole
of Sunday would be spent in bed recovering. It didn’t matter, if truth be told. She had been
moping in her room, pining for Tim to text an apology. It was not that she would have taken him
back. Well, not at first. The text would have shown he cared they had broken up, that he cared
about her. He did not even send one text, not one. She had spent the last three weeks staring at her phone, denying the obvious. Now she was putting the phone down and doing something positive.
She rang her friend Denise, who seemed wary until Kim mentioned Jamaica’s. The music was too
loud for yet another tearful Saturday night spent over a bottle of Chardonnay and a phone that
never rang. In truth Denise could be a bit of a slut, but tonight was the night to do what Denise
would do. Denise agreed to go with her.
The right friends in the right bar was the first step, the second was the right clothes. She had no
money for new clothes, but she had just been on the in-so-much-pain-she-could-not-eat diet. Her
tightest clothes would be fine.
What Denise would wear? Answer: a fuck-me skirt, with sandals that made sure men looked at her legs before her tits, plus the push up with the enticing red lace that framed the cleavage it created. There would be no prisoners taken tonight.
Denise had agreed to arrive at seven so Kim targeted twenty past knowing Denise and her friends
were never on time. It was only when she took out her purse as she got to Jamaica’s that she saw Denise’s message, sent at just before seven. The girls were still getting ready and would be late. If Denise was apologising it meant
at least an hour late.
Still, that wouldn’t be so bad. She could play the single woman in a bar game: hang around getting offered drinks and have fun fending off lines from losers. Jamaica’s was a pick up joint, which meant nothing much
happened until people had had a few drinks and were ready to join a meat market. On the Friday nights
after work when she usually went out, that happened a couple of hours after five. Today was a Saturday and the emptiness of the bar suggests it obviously started a bit later on the weekend.
The barman gave her searching look. He was tall, and if not handsome certainly worth an idle chat,
so she gave him a smile when he asked her order and paused a moment when he brought over the
G&T. The barman leaned over
“You one of Mel’s girls?”
She paused, confused a moment, decided she did not want to know, and handed over her credit card for the drink.
When a truly seedy looking man started staring at her, she took the G&T to a booth out of sight of the bar.
She sat sipping her drink, alone, checking her phone. No different from last Saturday night. And the
previous two before that. Except now she was being pathetic in public. The clothes she had chosen, that had felt
so good when contemplating a night of raucous fun with the girls, now made her feel stupid. It was the
small discomforts of the shoes and bra that she felt not their sexiness. Dressed up with somewhere
to go that turned out not to be worth it.
Then the music just stopped. It was like the room had emptied. The angry raised voices behind the
bar echoed. One of the groups of customers got up and left. She could even hear the barman’s
footsteps.
“I told’em it was the wrong fuse," he said to someone she could not see. "The sound check was at 1 so they’re just round the corner to get any parts. Now we’re going to have to call in a fucking sparky. They’re paying, not me, not out
of my share. “
The man he was talking to murmured agreement. The barman shouted to someone at the other end
of the room then continued
“What about you, any sign of the girl?”
“Fuck there is.”
“Told you not to trust Vicki. She knew it was a ten thousand dollar night. She’d rather it was lost
than have someone else get the clients.”
The other man mumbled something then said “I thought it were the one who came in five minutes
ago. Looked the part, but like she wasn’t used to the game.”
The barman laughed “She was a bit, you know, not the brightest. Perfect for the job really.”
“Not going to matter any which way if someone’s not here in 5 minutes.” The man began to grumble
about gratitude.
Later, when Kim was deciding what not to tell Denise about her evening, she reflected carefully on
that moment. She was not sure what the men were talking about, but a “game” that meant wearing
slutty clothes and being paid ten thousand dollars could not be anything she would tell her mum
about.
Even before the men started talking, when people were leaving because the music
stopped, she had an uncomfortable moment of self-awareness. She was alone in a crap bar, dressed
up to attract the attention of men when none were looking at her, ready to party when surrounded
by silence. The man’s comment about her look should have made her feel worse. It certainly jarred, but the sharpness of the pain was enervating, making her angry with herself. What was she doing, going out with Denise like this, on the hunt for some man, any man? Sitting in that bar waiting for Denise was just as much a kind of paralysis as sitting at
home being miserable. More than anything, she had to do something that showed she had now
finished with Tim for good.
She pushed her drink aside and stood up. She had not made up her mind what that something
would be, but she would do something . She could have stormed out just as easily as do what she did. But the bar was so empty that the click of her shoes echoed and when her second step took her out of the booth, both the barman and the sleezy man looked at her. She did not let herself pause before announcing
“I’m the girl you’re waiting for.”
of Sunday would be spent in bed recovering. It didn’t matter, if truth be told. She had been
moping in her room, pining for Tim to text an apology. It was not that she would have taken him
back. Well, not at first. The text would have shown he cared they had broken up, that he cared
about her. He did not even send one text, not one. She had spent the last three weeks staring at her phone, denying the obvious. Now she was putting the phone down and doing something positive.
She rang her friend Denise, who seemed wary until Kim mentioned Jamaica’s. The music was too
loud for yet another tearful Saturday night spent over a bottle of Chardonnay and a phone that
never rang. In truth Denise could be a bit of a slut, but tonight was the night to do what Denise
would do. Denise agreed to go with her.
The right friends in the right bar was the first step, the second was the right clothes. She had no
money for new clothes, but she had just been on the in-so-much-pain-she-could-not-eat diet. Her
tightest clothes would be fine.
What Denise would wear? Answer: a fuck-me skirt, with sandals that made sure men looked at her legs before her tits, plus the push up with the enticing red lace that framed the cleavage it created. There would be no prisoners taken tonight.
Denise had agreed to arrive at seven so Kim targeted twenty past knowing Denise and her friends
were never on time. It was only when she took out her purse as she got to Jamaica’s that she saw Denise’s message, sent at just before seven. The girls were still getting ready and would be late. If Denise was apologising it meant
at least an hour late.
Still, that wouldn’t be so bad. She could play the single woman in a bar game: hang around getting offered drinks and have fun fending off lines from losers. Jamaica’s was a pick up joint, which meant nothing much
happened until people had had a few drinks and were ready to join a meat market. On the Friday nights
after work when she usually went out, that happened a couple of hours after five. Today was a Saturday and the emptiness of the bar suggests it obviously started a bit later on the weekend.
The barman gave her searching look. He was tall, and if not handsome certainly worth an idle chat,
so she gave him a smile when he asked her order and paused a moment when he brought over the
G&T. The barman leaned over
“You one of Mel’s girls?”
She paused, confused a moment, decided she did not want to know, and handed over her credit card for the drink.
When a truly seedy looking man started staring at her, she took the G&T to a booth out of sight of the bar.
She sat sipping her drink, alone, checking her phone. No different from last Saturday night. And the
previous two before that. Except now she was being pathetic in public. The clothes she had chosen, that had felt
so good when contemplating a night of raucous fun with the girls, now made her feel stupid. It was the
small discomforts of the shoes and bra that she felt not their sexiness. Dressed up with somewhere
to go that turned out not to be worth it.
Then the music just stopped. It was like the room had emptied. The angry raised voices behind the
bar echoed. One of the groups of customers got up and left. She could even hear the barman’s
footsteps.
“I told’em it was the wrong fuse," he said to someone she could not see. "The sound check was at 1 so they’re just round the corner to get any parts. Now we’re going to have to call in a fucking sparky. They’re paying, not me, not out
of my share. “
The man he was talking to murmured agreement. The barman shouted to someone at the other end
of the room then continued
“What about you, any sign of the girl?”
“Fuck there is.”
“Told you not to trust Vicki. She knew it was a ten thousand dollar night. She’d rather it was lost
than have someone else get the clients.”
The other man mumbled something then said “I thought it were the one who came in five minutes
ago. Looked the part, but like she wasn’t used to the game.”
The barman laughed “She was a bit, you know, not the brightest. Perfect for the job really.”
“Not going to matter any which way if someone’s not here in 5 minutes.” The man began to grumble
about gratitude.
Later, when Kim was deciding what not to tell Denise about her evening, she reflected carefully on
that moment. She was not sure what the men were talking about, but a “game” that meant wearing
slutty clothes and being paid ten thousand dollars could not be anything she would tell her mum
about.
Even before the men started talking, when people were leaving because the music
stopped, she had an uncomfortable moment of self-awareness. She was alone in a crap bar, dressed
up to attract the attention of men when none were looking at her, ready to party when surrounded
by silence. The man’s comment about her look should have made her feel worse. It certainly jarred, but the sharpness of the pain was enervating, making her angry with herself. What was she doing, going out with Denise like this, on the hunt for some man, any man? Sitting in that bar waiting for Denise was just as much a kind of paralysis as sitting at
home being miserable. More than anything, she had to do something that showed she had now
finished with Tim for good.
She pushed her drink aside and stood up. She had not made up her mind what that something
would be, but she would do something . She could have stormed out just as easily as do what she did. But the bar was so empty that the click of her shoes echoed and when her second step took her out of the booth, both the barman and the sleezy man looked at her. She did not let herself pause before announcing
“I’m the girl you’re waiting for.”
Dottie
- 28.02.2020
- 21
- 0
