Not a Mistaken Identity
Missy, as they called her here, did not love her new job, but she did not mind it. The whorehouse was well protected, they had a warning system in place, so the chances of getting busted were low. Not only that, but the pay was pretty good. For the first time in her life, Belinda, her real name, could pay her bills on time and make plans for the future. The only thing she had to do was fuck strangers five or six times a day, sometimes more. She didn't mind, and sometimes she even enjoyed the sex.
Stephen had been here one other time. He was a Truck Driver after years of cross country trips he had finally found a local job doing short halls. Stephen's wife recently passed away and his three kids had moved out. He was often lonely, and oft times horny. The last time he had been to this place the girl did not impress him, but at least he did get his rocks off. Of course he wore a condom. Just being careful. He paid the guy at the front, after giving him the code word which let them know he was an excepted customer. They told him room seven, handed him a packet of condoms and a card that simply said
"Full two hours." Stephen was so ready, his cock hard as he walked back to the room.
Hopefully this one is better looking, or at least a better fuck
, he thought to himself.
Missy took one more look in the mirror at herself. Missy was tall, most guys liked them tall, just a couple of inches short of six feet. Her body was her greatest asset in this line of work. Sexy long legs, a heart shaped ass, and breasts that barely fit into the size 35D bra she was
not
wearing. The owner, her boss, fucked her on a regular basis, he told her she was his prize girl. She knew she was not as pretty as some, but she is also not a dog. She wore less make-up then most, for she really did not have to. Missy has striking green eyes that no one could see in the low level lighting of the room she regularly used. Her boss always told her how sexy her eyes were.
Her first client had not arrived, and Missy was a bit antsy. In truth, she hoped he had a decent sized cock, or was at least good at using the package he had. Missy was so ready to be fucked today.
With my luck it will be a guy carrying a blow job
card, she thought to herself. Oh, she did not mind blow jobs, they just did not pay as well. Good news was they only got a half hour, so if the place was busy, she might make a decent amount today. Some days she cleaned up, some days not so much. But, still, she made better money then when she was a waitress.
Stephen came to door seven and was happy he had paid for two hours. He liked to take his time, enjoy his time here. If this one was hot, he could request her by name and hope she was available. The monster at the desk said her name was Missy. Monster because he was like seven feet tall. For a moment he thought of his daughter, she could be the age of some of these girls. But his libido got the better of him and he opened the door.
One thing he hated about this place was that they kept the rooms so dark. As he walked in, he saw the silhouette of a woman on a small bed, but could not make out very much detail about her in the overly dark space. "H-hm," he cleared his throat as he stood just inside the door, letting his eyes adjust to the low light.
Finally he walked across the room and the girl/woman said, "Nervous? Nothing to be nervous about."
That voice. He knew that voice. God, could it be? Moving in close, he sat on the bed next to her, and sure enough. It was his own daughter, Belinda. Working in a whorehouse! "Oh my God, Belinda, what the fuck are you doing here?"
"Dad? Is that you? H-how did you find me? I told no one about this place."
