*Note: Hey guys, sorry it took so long for me to update, my editor is now MIA, or she just abandoned me, I'm not sure which, either way, new editor please. This chapter is a lot longer than my previous chapters and I put a lot of thought into it, thus the long wait. Hopefully I can update a lot faster from now on. As always, do not be afraid to comment or critique. Please vote, and also, please don't send me racist smut. It's unneccessary. Enjoy my three page child.
-Naomi :)
P.S. if there are any problems with the formatting, please let me know.
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It was rare for a guy to ever to go down on her, they all feared disease, but that wasn't to say that it had never happened before. Before Billy became a prostitute, she had already had sex and was well versed in giving and receiving pleasure.
She had become a prostitute at the age of 19 to help when the debt collectors had begun to gather around her. She needed to make ends meet and sex wasn't sacred to her after the age of sixteen.
In the beginning, she was very selective about the men that she let rut on top of her, she wanted attractive men. Blonde hair and blue eyes with a six pack or a man that was intelligent, she was a bit more naïve back then. Thinking that she had a choice or that the type of men that came would look decent, she learned quickly how things truly were. At the age of twenty-one she took up drinking and let her body numb over and her mind wander, she let her heart harden against the world and refused her body pleasure during any sessions. Occasionally men would want to help her out and some had even offered to go down on her, but she was never keen on the idea.
This time it was different. A man that was attractive had taken the risk and had knowingly gone down on a prostitute. She loved most of what had happened and was still reeling from her first partner inflicted orgasm in four to five months. For the most part she just used her fingers; spending money on a plastic phallus seemed pointless. She wasn't worried about him catching a disease; so far she had remained untouched by a STD and hell, if it could happen in Pretty Woman, why the hell couldn't it happen to her?
Billy was sitting on the bed after a long, hot shower. Her long hair that had been bone straight and down to mid back was now scrunched up in tight, wet curls around her shoulders. When she had gone into the bathroom she had had to explore all the nooks till she finally discovered some soap and shampoo under the sink. She had stepped into the shower with her newly acquired cleaning products and had tripped a little bit and dropped them all over the floor. The shower was set deeper into the ground than it appeared. When she stumbled farther into the shower she rolled her ankle and felt a sharp pain shoot up through her calf. It wasn't too bad of a pain, but she didn't want to cause any unnecessary stress on her recently abused ankle, so she sat on the floor and let the hot water beat at her body while she tried to lather up faster than it would rinse off.
When she had come out of the steaming bathroom wrapped in a thick, fluffy, cotton towel there were clothes waiting on the bed for her. There was a pair of small shorts made out of some sort of plush fabric and tank top that molded to her skin when she put it on. Whoever put those clothes out for her had foregone the panties and her dirty clothes had been gone when she came out.
She was sitting down on the bed putting her thick hair up into two French braids when there was a booming knock on the door. She called out for them to come in and waited for the sound of the door swinging open before she looked up. A man came in rolling a cart with some covered plates on it.
"Hello Ma'am," the man said, "I'm Harold and this here is your dinner." Harold was a tall man with a regal posture and a gleaming, kind smile. The lines on his face were all arched around the corner of his mouth and scrunched up in the corners of his eyes. Harold had lived a life of vast happiness and his lines were filled with stories untold.
Billy was a little taken back when she was referred to as "Ma'am" and a bit confused that someone was serving her dinner. Harold walked father into the room and placed the cart between the bed and the windows.
"Thank you," Billy said while staring at the cart. She heard a whispered, "you're welcome," before the door was quietly closed.
She uncrossed her legs and walked over to the cart. There were two large carafes, one of orange juice and another of ice water; and two plates on the cart that were covered in one of those metal domes that you would usually see in movies. She uncovered the larger of the two plates and her mouth instantly began to water at what was under. There were two fried chicken legs and some green beans and a mound of mash potatoes with two buttery rolls leaning sideways against them. She ignored the smaller of the two plates for the moment and grabbed the larger one and a fork and sat on the bed again and began to dig in. Once she was done with the food she ignored the cups on the cart and drank the ice water straight out of the carafe. When she was done drinking her fill she walked over to the cart and lifted the lid of the smallest plate. There was a small cupcake on the plate. It was a lavender cupcake with green frosting and pink flower petals that were made of fondant on top. Billy sucked in a deep breath and just stared at the cupcake. She felt as though she couldn't eat it, it was too pretty and she'd rather have the cupcake sit there and stay as it was than for her to litter it with teeth marks and saliva strips. Billy picked up the small plate and gently put it on the small bedside table next to the bed. She straightened up the cart and tried to make everything as it was when the cart had first come into the room. Then she walked over to the bed and slid herself under the covers and let her body relax and sink into the plush mattress beneath her. She rolled onto her side and looked at the cupcake. Something so beautiful and delicate and, probably, delicious, and she couldn't eat it. She didn't want to taint something so pure. She stared at the cupcake and let her eyes drift shut, her last thoughts of innocence lost.
When she woke up the next day she felt new and fresh. The cupcake that had been on the table next to she was gone and a cart was in the same place with a new set of plates and freshly topped off carafes with the addition of a pot of coffee. After savoring every bite of egg and relishing the crunch of the toast between her teeth she washed it all down with a cup of coffee, lots of cream and two packs of sweet n' low, and decided that it was time to do her job. Though she yearned more so for his affection than his body, she decided to pursue the one that was most attainable at the time. She went into the bathroom and cleaned up, brushed her teeth and combed out her hair; before the day was out she was going to fuck her employer.
She strode out of the bathroom with the confident gait of a super model and marched herself over to the door connecting their rooms and raised her fist to knock on the door. As she was about to knock on the door she lost her nerve and let her hand limply fall to her side. He would come when he wanted to; she had no right to be some brash slut, she needed to be patient. She raised her hand once more and placed her palm flat against the door and leaned her forehead against the cool wood surface. She could picture him on the other side now.
Him in a pair of plaid pajama pants and nothing else, his hair mussed up in a sexy just-rolled-out --of-bed way, and his eyes without their cold hardness and instead filled with smoldering desire. Her other hand traveled up the side of her thigh and to the top of the waistband of her small sleep shorts. She let her hand delve in between the plush material and her silky skin towards her aching pussy. As she was nearing the hot opening the door opened suddenly and she lost her balance, she collapsed forward with her hand down her pants. She landed awkwardly on her arm and felt a sharp pain in her shoulder and let out a strangled grunt. She lied still for a moment before she pulled her hand out of her pants and forced herself to get up. She kept her eyes glued to the floor as she stood to her feet with no help from him. She continued to look at the ground as she adjusted her clothes and wiped her fingers on her shorts, her face was on fire and her shoulder was throbbing a little. She resisted the urge to stare at the ground and raise her hand to her throbbing shoulder and instead raised her eyes to his face and kept her hands straight at her side.
Those eyes, it would always be those eyes. Whether they were hardened with his emotional wall or softened by shock and adrenaline, she could always drown in them. They were just as stony as ever and the rest of his face was set. She gave him a coy, embarrassed smile while her hands clenched into tight, white knuckled balls around the fabric of her pajama shorts. His eyes were fixed on her mouth and she bit her bottom lip in embarrassment. His eyes lit a little and he subconsciously licked his own lips. During his temporary obsession with her lips she took in his fresh-from-sleep state. His arms were just as muscled as she had originally imagined and his abs were cut into a six pack. He wasn't in plaid pajama pants like she thought he would be he was in steel grey athletic sweats with a number on the upper thigh of the right pant leg. She did an up and down of his body again before she let her eyes rise to his face. The corners of his mouth and eyes were pristine and his cheeks glowed with good health. She looked at his thick head of hair and gave a genuine smile at the mussed quaffs of hair and the small cow lick at the crown of his head. He seemed like a cute guy that could be her boyfriend until her eyes were locked with his again.
