A Very Special Guy

It had been a good night. Three guys at three fifty a piece plus tips made a nice take home, even discounting the forty percent I had to pay the cabbies. The Place Pigalle must have been hopping. The cabbies called it "Pig Alley." I'd spent my time picking up Johns there for the better part of a year, but I could afford a nice place now, an apartment just off the Venetian causeway.

It was a lot safer working out of an apartment than picking up guys in bars. Too many cops in bars. Two cabbies checked out the Johns for me as they left Place Pigalle, horny from watching the strippers -- who left nothing to the imagination. Ray was the best but Sonny got me lots of business too. Usually I went to the John's hotel room. Sometimes the cabbie brought them to my place.

I was twenty-three and I'd been a hooker for a year and a half -- since that worthless bastard I'd been living with decided he didn't want to marry me. I still get chills up my spine every time I remember how close I came to making that big mistake. I'd been working as a cocktail waitress at the Deauville and he took what little I earned to buy beer. When he left me, I figured to hell with men -- three losers in a row -- that was enough! I was gonna rent my pussy by the hour. It paid well. A lot of guys with money came to the conventions at Miami Beach and most of them got horny away from the dull little wife.

It was a good living, but some nights I couldn't avoid thinking about where I was going with my life, even when it got me all depressed and teary eyed. I'd picked up a lot of college credits at Broward College and I was just about a year away from a degree. I'd be the first one in my family with a college degree.

I had enough in the bank and my safe box to support me for over a year while I finished college, but shit! The job I'd qualify for with that degree didn't pay a third of what I could make as a hooker! On the other hand, the older my pussy got the less the Johns were gonna pay to fuck it. They liked 'em young! Every time I got to this point in planning my life, I started to think about how all alone I was, and then I always ended up having another drink, and going to bed, crying, lonely, no way out!

I woke up Thursday mid-morning with a smile. Thursday was my day off. I put on my best sporty outfit, an expensive one, and headed for South Beach. A little shopping -- lunch at a nice place -- then afternoon in the shade next to the beach, engaging in my favorite sport - people watching. I would dine early and alone at an expensive place -- it was my Thursday ritual. I morphed from cheap hooker to rich tourist -- clothes, make-up, and all -- and tried to forget what I was.

By late afternoon I was relaxed and happy, trying to decide which of my favorite restaurants to spoil myself in. There was a real good-looking guy who had sat at a table near me and glanced at me from time to time and finally he picked up his drink and came over to my table.

"Would you like some company?" He asked in a very nice way.

I was not working tonight -- no way was I gonna proposition this guy! And the last thing I needed was some horny bastard trying to get a free piece of ass. But I didn't want to spoil my afternoon by being rude and he had such a nice smile. I usually didn't do this but maybe some company would be fun for a change. Lonely was a bad way to be.

"Sure. Pull up a chair. I'm a people watcher. What about you?"

"I enjoy trying to guess what they do when they're back home," he said. "My name is Gordon Ritch."

"Hi! I'm Geri Norman. Are you a tourist?"

He joined me at the table and extended his left hand. I shook it and noticed no wedding band but that meant nothing.

"Not really. I do taxes and it takes a lot of updating the way the laws and regs keep changing. If I'm gonna pay some guy to lecture me I'd rather be in Miami than Cleveland. And you?"

What does a hooker do? She tells lies to guys who pay to be lied to. "I'm a cocktail waitress working my way through Broward College."

"What's your major?" He asked with a pleasant smile.

I looked more closely. He was good looking and had that really great smile. Then I warned myself --"Get control of yourself you stupid bitch. He just wants to fuck you. Like every other bastard out there."

"I'm a business major -- just thirty credit hours away from my BA."

He asked about my courses. I told the truth. He asked about my job. I lied. He asked about my family. I told the truth. He was twenty-seven and a partner in a firm in Knoxville. He was fun to talk to, and before I figured out what was happening we were on our way to a nice little Italian place that was a favorite of mine. I wasn't horny but I needed to be with a man -- there's an important difference. Sometimes you just need a man. But, I kept telling myself that the only thing he wanted was a free piece of ass.

Then, after dinner, he offered to take me home. I had made an all-men-are-bastards bet with myself. So I told another lie, figuring my car would be okay in the parking garage overnight, and said I would be very grateful for a ride. He drove me to my place in his rental car, me pointing directions all the way. He pulled up at my place with the headlights aimed at the apartment house entrance, left the motor running, and came around and opened the door for me.

"Thank you very much for your company," he said. "I enjoyed talking to you a lot."

He led me nearly to my door. He paused and waited till I got my key out and opened it. Then he smiled and waved a friendly good night. I went in and closed the door. Then I stopped and stood frozen in the hall. Shit! He didn't try to screw me! I lost my bet. I went to bed thinking that maybe Gordon was just about the nicest guy that I had ever met.

It was almost two months later that my phone rang. Hooker's hearts don't skip beats. But mine did exactly that when I heard his voice. He was back in town and wanted to have dinner. I called Ray and told him I was taking the night off and the next as well. I can't remember how long it had been since I took so much trouble trying to look good. Trying to get rid of that cheap look that the Johns liked. The same cheap look that all the guys I had ever dated liked. I wanted to look like a really nice girl for Gordon.

Hookers don't get gaga when some guy knocks on their door, but that was the way I was when he picked me up. I had an absolutely wonderful evening -- dinner and dancing in the moonlight and soft music. On the way home my mind started to race. What do "normal" people do on the second date? Do they fuck? What should I do if he wants to come in? Do I invite him in if he doesn't ask? What the fuck should I do?

My worry was for nothing. Same drill as before. Motor running, lights aimed at the door, waved good night when I opened the door. I was hooked! This guy was gonna get all the user friendly pussy he could handle. Then I reminded myself that this guy wasn't like the rest of those horny bastards I was with night after night. This was a very special guy.

We had dinner the next night and he was as wonderful as before and when we got home it was the same drill -- except -- except -- thank the good Lord! He kissed me. It was a real kiss -- on my lips -- one hand on each shoulder and not pulling me close -- but it was a real kiss and it felt good. Oh so very good! It was like a dream!

I lay in bed thinking about him. That afternoon he had actually spent time helping me with my accounting homework. I had never dated a guy who'd been to college. He had smiled. I kept seeing his smile. It was obvious what was happening. I was falling in love. I thought about making love to him. Shit! That's stupid! Hookers sell pussy or trade it to pimps for business -- they don't just give it away like horny high school girls. But that's what I wanted to do. I thought about being in bed with him.

It was a painful two months until he came down again, but during that time we had exchanged phone calls every week. I quit work for a week this time and Ray was real upset. He'd come by to pick up his 40%. Tonight that amounted to well over a thousand bucks. Sounds like a lot, but he checked the John's IDs and he could spot a cop a mile away.

"You're losing a lot of money, Geri," Ray said. "I've seen this before. All hookers are suckers for guys that pretend to be in love with them. You end up losing a lot of bucks and the bum gets a lot of free pussy. The gals always lose in the end."

"How do you know it's a guy?" I demanded.

He laughed. "Hey honey -- I been pimping for twenty plus years! I seen it all. You got a guy!"

Ray wasn't stupid. Was my guy really special? Or was he just another guy exploiting women, like Ray thought? He hadn't been trying to fuck me. I was in love with him. But I'd been fooled by three bastards before. I didn't seem to learn about men. And I hadn't even begun to think about the biggest question of all -- I'd been fucking and blowing up to fifty guys a month for almost two years. What would Gordon think about that if he found out?

I needed to talk to Ray. He was the only friend I had. "You're right, Ray. I gotta guy. Can you come in for a minute? Sit down. Let me get you a drink."

Ray came in, smiling. "I seen a lot of gals go through this," he said. "They think they're in love. Usually with a John. Is your guy a John?"

"No. Just a guy I met."

"You're lucky. Does he know you're a hooker?"

"No."

"You're double lucky."

"You fuckin him?"

"No."

"You got a lot going for you Geri. You're ready to quit! Right?"

"Yeah. I want to quit. Help me."

Ray was married. Same gal for twenty years. I fucked him sometimes -- he was a great pimp but he was also a good friend -- my only really close friend. He loved his wife. He'd been in the business a long time and he knew a lot. I always listened to him carefully.

"If you're serious, here's what you do. Get a new apartment with a new phone. Change your cell too. Nobody knows you except by your first name and your phone number. Most of the time you used your working name. You'll just disappear in a new apartment with new phones. Don't turn any tricks after you move. Stay clean. Don't go to any of the old places. No contact with any people in the business, even the girls. Change your looks. Tone yourself down a notch. You can live off your bank account, but you need to get a job. I'll tell everybody you took your stash and went back to your folks in Orlando."

"Thank you Ray. That's good advice. I'm gonna do it!"

Ray and I talked for a while. I was grateful. People in the business would believe him. Some girls did get away sometimes and some even got a decent life. Maybe I could too. He was about to leave.

"You're a great friend, Ray. Thanks a lot. Would you like a good-bye piece of ass? You've been such a good friend for a long time."

"No thank you, honey. Not tonight. I'm headed home."

"Not even a blowjob? I mean ... I wanna say thank you for everything you've done for me." Ray always enjoyed my blowjobs.

"Well, ... " he said, hesitating.

I was on my knees in a flash working on his zipper and when that fat uncircumcised cock came out it was already getting hard. I cradled his big hairy balls in my hand and ran the tip of my tongue under his thick foreskin. He groaned when my tongue touched the tender, moist head of his dick. Then I skinned it back and got down to serious work with my lips and tongue. I took him deep and buried my face in his thick, curly pubic hair. My nostrils were filled with that familiar aroma of sweaty male genitals.

As I worked I remembered when I first started hooking. Like all the other girls, I sucked off half the cabbies in Miami trying to get my name and number out there for business. This would be my last professional job and it was somehow appropriate that it was a cabbie. With some cabbies we tried to lay 'em off rather than pay 'em off, so we could keep their forty percent, but Ray had been too experienced for that. After he became my friend and regular pimp I serviced him whenever he needed it and my blowjobs were his favorite thing.

"Oh Jesus - Geri that's good," Ray said, groaning.

It took only a few minutes. Ray was always fast. When I felt his heavy balls lift up out of my hand, I knew what was going to happen next. He groaned and grabbed my head in both hands, shoving his cock deep into my throat, his fingers entangled in my long blond hair. His hips pumped uncontrollably as he ejaculated a massive load of thick, creamy semen down my throat. I swallowed it rapidly. I was too much of a professional to gag -- I'd done this hundreds of times.

I held his cock in my mouth, as it gradually got soft. I swallowed the last of his musky tasting cum and looked up at him -- his head bent back in the chair, his face relaxed and satisfied. Then I milked down his rapidly softening cock and got a big drop of sticky white cum on the head of his dick. It looked just like a beautiful pearl. I licked it off and smiled up at him, as I pulled his thick foreskin back down over the head of his cock.

"Jesus, Geri, your tongue is just like electricity. You give the best blowjobs I ever had. I love my wife but nobody sucks cock like you do. Worth every bit of the three hundred bucks the Johns pay."

"Thank you Ray. But that's your last one for a while, and mine too; unless it turns out I'm wrong about Gordon. Wish me luck."

"Good luck baby. I hope you make it. Remember, most gals are back on the street in a few months. But I've seen some make it. Just hang in there. The first few months are the hardest. Watch your money. Maybe you'll get lucky."

I followed Ray's advice. I explained to Gordon that my new apartment was in a better location. I got a job in the lounge at the Deauville for peanuts, turned down every guy who propositioned me, and signed up for an extra six credit hours at college. I had the bucks in the bank to live the way I wanted, but I was more careful with my money now.

It happened during his fifth trip. Gordon had been coming in for a drink after he took me out and we had kissed and loved a bit sitting on the couch. He didn't rush me or press me. But then one night it just happened. He carried me to bed. That had never happened to me before - ever in my life. He was so gentle and loving. I let him lead. He obviously had some experience. He brought me to orgasm twice. I never came with the Johns. He stayed all night. He was in my sandbox now. I was a pro and he was gonna get anything he wanted. Anytime he wanted it.

After that, Gordon came down regularly just to see me and when spring break came around he invited me up to Knoxville for a visit to meet his partners and their wives. Before he went back that time he handed me his partnership business card as I dropped him off at the airport. I tucked the card away in my purse and thought nothing of it till I changed purses that night. When I looked at his card I got a sudden cramp in my stomach. The name of the senior partner was familiar -- too damn familiar. I ran to get my card file.

I always kept a monthly record for the cabbies of the tricks I turned and what they paid (not the tip of course). Ray and Sonny got forty percent of the up front payment. But when a guy called and I turned him extra, I kept a separate record -- no split for the cabbie. If a guy looked like he might call when he came back in town again, I listed him separately. I had a card file with all the details -- dates, names, what they wanted, what they paid, and if they gave me a business card it was attached to my three by five file card.

I used abbreviations of course: F was for "French" meaning a blowjob; B was for "ball" meaning I fucked 'em, and so on. When a guy called again I could check out what he wanted and what he was willing to pay -- even what he liked to drink.

Gordon's senior partner had a familiar name. He was in my file! A card just like the one Gordon gave me was stapled to my three by five card. There were three dates listed. Sonny had set up my first date with him and Walter had called me two more times. The first date said, "B - $400", the second said, "F & B $700" and the third said, "all night -- came three times - $1100." He didn't know me as "Geri" -- I had used my working name "Donna" but he knew my old phone number.

So now what? I was going to Knoxville in a week to meet Gordon's friends. I was gonna meet Walter. I sat down and started thinking. When I quit hookin I had cut my hair shorter and gone back to my natural brunet-- the Johns liked long flowing blond hair for some reason. I had started going out in the sun a lot and had a good tan -- Johns liked their women with nice white skin. I didn't dress like a hooker any more. All of this meant that I looked a lot different. But Walter had seen me up close -- three times - talked to me -- slept with me - kissed me -- fucked me -- watched me suck his cock - would he remember me?

Gordon picked me up at the airport and took me to a hotel he had booked for me in Maryville, near his place. It was very exciting to see him again and we made love that afternoon. He had taken the day off. That night there was a party at his club and all the partners and their wives would be there including Walter and his wife. I was sick to my stomach when we walked into the club.

I recognized Walter right away as Gordon went through the introductions. I remembered him as an arrogant bastard. When I saw his wife and heard the way she talked I could see, at once, why Walter needed rent-a-pussy. She was a real bitch. Walter checked me out and it was apparent that he was the play-around type of guy. I wondered if any of the others saw in him what I saw. I knew a lot about guys -- at least the bad ones (I had learned a lot from the first three bastards that took me for a ride). Walter gave no clue that he had recognized me.

Dinner went well and afterward we did some dancing. Walter asked me to dance. "Here it comes," I said to myself. If he's recognized me he would tell me now. What the hell should I do? I'd fuck him, of course, if I had to. To keep Gordon I'd do just about anything. But that probably wouldn't work because once I started fucking him his demands would never stop. He might even use me for a while and then tell Gordon about me just for laughs. He held me close but didn't act as if he had connected this clean-cut girl-next-door with the slutty "Donna" who'd knocked on his hotel door in Miami Beach.

Then his hand crept down to my ass. The bastard! Meets me for the first time and grabs my ass! I reached back and moved his hand up to my waist. He didn't try again. But, suddenly I realized that this was good news. He was just checking me out. Would the junior partner's gal be extra friendly to the senior partner? He didn't recognize me! Shit! I had dodged a bullet!

We got back to the table and for me the party got a lot better.

The next day, Gordon proposed -- ring and all. I was deliriously happy. It was just like a dream. In two months I would graduate and we could be married. This was not supposed to happen to girls like me. But it did. I was going to live again -- live in the world of normal people -- no hookers, no pimps, no Johns.

I felt guilty about the secret I had to keep from my very special guy -- but how do you tell the guy you love that in the past two years you'd fucked hundreds of guys -- maybe even a thousand! Jesus! I'd never thought about it that way before, but when I did the math, it just leaped out at me, and when I remembered my bank account and safety box I knew it was real. I'd fucked and sucked a hell of a lot of guys!

I loved Gordon. I wanted to marry him. What the hell else could I do except keep my mouth shut?

*

Dear Readers: Now what do I do? I'm the one that has to write it. What does Geri do? Does she tell Gordon about her past? And if she does will he still love her? Does Walter finally make the connection? Walter has her old phone number which is probably still in Gordon's address file. He has the connections to check it out. What if he calls "Donna" again? Girls! Help me! And guys too, I guess, but I have an idea what the guys will want to read about.