starts to say a name, but I stop her.
"Tell her she’ll be Violet for the night."
"Sure. Violet."
"Violet" knocks on my door thirty minutes later. I let her in. She looks nothing like Daisy. Her dirty hair is bleached too light. Her eyes are hazel and not blue. She is too thin. I can see her ribs when she opens her coat to show me her thigh high stockings and garters. She smiles at the sight of me. I shake my head at her naiveté. Because I look young and have a firm body, she automatically thinks that I will be a better lay, but I’m strong and I could hurt her. She has no instinct of self-preservation. She will likely be dead before she hits her quarter-century mark.
Her outfit would be sexy to anyone else, but I am unmoved. I glance over my shoulder toward Daisy’s apartment. Afraid she might be able to see in, I walk over and close the blinds. It is a stupid act. My Daisy is too trusting to peer in windows, looking for me.
The girl I’ve named Violet pulls off her jacket and looks for somewhere to place it. I take it and throw it on the kitchen counter.
"Um, you just move in?" She takes in my empty space.
"Yeah." I do not want her to remember me as “the Russian guy," so I make a conscious effort to speak with American slang. "Haven’t got any furniture yet."
She shrugs. "Where do you want to do this?"
I sit down on a chair and pull out a condom.
"Just a BJ?" She looks surprised at my nod. "And a condom. Aren’t you the responsible boy."
Not responsible, just smart. I open my jeans and pull out my cock. It is flaccid, but its quiescent length still makes Violet’s eyes widen.
"That’s quite a package you’ve got there."
"I want you to suck me," I say.
I do not want to have conversation with her. I want a fuck. I want relief. I jack myself and think of Daisy and the crumpled panties that rest on my washstand. I am erect instantly.
The prostitute comes forward and kneels between my legs. The floor is hard, and I consider getting her a pillow, but I do not want her to touch my things. I barely want her to touch me.
Her hands run up my jean-clad leg and her mouth descends. I grab her hair and pull her face back. One glance at her too-knowing face and my erection subsides. I want for no one but Daisy. This fake flower I have purchased will do nothing for me. I stand up, and she falls aside. Walking swiftly across the room, I gather up her coat and pull out a hundred dollar bill from my pocket. I would offer her more, but she would remember me more, talk of me.
"Sorry. I have appointment I have forgotten."
She looks at me uncertainly, but she quickly grabs the bill and shrugs on her coat. "If you change your mind, just say you want Violet again."
I nod. I won’t be calling. But then, neither is Daisy.
Chapter Five
DAISY
"You sure you want this job, honey?" The elderly man looks at me with more than a little skepticism. "You seem too nice to be working the overnight shift at a gas station, if you don't mind me saying so. Not the safest job for a young girl."
I swallow hard, my hand smoothing the dark blue collar of the company polo I have been given to wear. It's my first day, and Craig—the elderly owner of the gas station—is showing me how to run the register for a few hours before he leaves for the evening and I am all alone until 2:00 a.m., which is when the next shift arrives.
It's not that I truly want this job. I don't. It pays minimum wage. The counters are dirty and everything in the store has a fine layer of dust on it. I feel very young as Craig gives me another skeptical look, but I don't have a choice. I have no money. I have less than two hundred dollars in my savings, and my cupboard is getting barer by the day.
"I want the job," I tell Craig with a smile. "Don't worry about me." This is the only place that has called me. Of course I want the job. I
need
the job.
"All right," he says reluctantly, and we go behind the counter of the gas station convenience store. There are
"Tell her she’ll be Violet for the night."
"Sure. Violet."
"Violet" knocks on my door thirty minutes later. I let her in. She looks nothing like Daisy. Her dirty hair is bleached too light. Her eyes are hazel and not blue. She is too thin. I can see her ribs when she opens her coat to show me her thigh high stockings and garters. She smiles at the sight of me. I shake my head at her naiveté. Because I look young and have a firm body, she automatically thinks that I will be a better lay, but I’m strong and I could hurt her. She has no instinct of self-preservation. She will likely be dead before she hits her quarter-century mark.
Her outfit would be sexy to anyone else, but I am unmoved. I glance over my shoulder toward Daisy’s apartment. Afraid she might be able to see in, I walk over and close the blinds. It is a stupid act. My Daisy is too trusting to peer in windows, looking for me.
The girl I’ve named Violet pulls off her jacket and looks for somewhere to place it. I take it and throw it on the kitchen counter.
"Um, you just move in?" She takes in my empty space.
"Yeah." I do not want her to remember me as “the Russian guy," so I make a conscious effort to speak with American slang. "Haven’t got any furniture yet."
She shrugs. "Where do you want to do this?"
I sit down on a chair and pull out a condom.
"Just a BJ?" She looks surprised at my nod. "And a condom. Aren’t you the responsible boy."
Not responsible, just smart. I open my jeans and pull out my cock. It is flaccid, but its quiescent length still makes Violet’s eyes widen.
"That’s quite a package you’ve got there."
"I want you to suck me," I say.
I do not want to have conversation with her. I want a fuck. I want relief. I jack myself and think of Daisy and the crumpled panties that rest on my washstand. I am erect instantly.
The prostitute comes forward and kneels between my legs. The floor is hard, and I consider getting her a pillow, but I do not want her to touch my things. I barely want her to touch me.
Her hands run up my jean-clad leg and her mouth descends. I grab her hair and pull her face back. One glance at her too-knowing face and my erection subsides. I want for no one but Daisy. This fake flower I have purchased will do nothing for me. I stand up, and she falls aside. Walking swiftly across the room, I gather up her coat and pull out a hundred dollar bill from my pocket. I would offer her more, but she would remember me more, talk of me.
"Sorry. I have appointment I have forgotten."
She looks at me uncertainly, but she quickly grabs the bill and shrugs on her coat. "If you change your mind, just say you want Violet again."
I nod. I won’t be calling. But then, neither is Daisy.
Chapter Five
DAISY
"You sure you want this job, honey?" The elderly man looks at me with more than a little skepticism. "You seem too nice to be working the overnight shift at a gas station, if you don't mind me saying so. Not the safest job for a young girl."
I swallow hard, my hand smoothing the dark blue collar of the company polo I have been given to wear. It's my first day, and Craig—the elderly owner of the gas station—is showing me how to run the register for a few hours before he leaves for the evening and I am all alone until 2:00 a.m., which is when the next shift arrives.
It's not that I truly want this job. I don't. It pays minimum wage. The counters are dirty and everything in the store has a fine layer of dust on it. I feel very young as Craig gives me another skeptical look, but I don't have a choice. I have no money. I have less than two hundred dollars in my savings, and my cupboard is getting barer by the day.
"I want the job," I tell Craig with a smile. "Don't worry about me." This is the only place that has called me. Of course I want the job. I
need
the job.
"All right," he says reluctantly, and we go behind the counter of the gas station convenience store. There are
Similar Books
