Thursday Evening
folder
Romance › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
22
Views:
3,313
Reviews:
26
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Romance › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
22
Views:
3,313
Reviews:
26
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
John's Work
AN~ Thanks for the reviews.
I had implied that the pimp was leniant with the prostitute because the pimp imagined that the prostitute would be back soon enough, but I edited last chapter to try to make that more clear.
Anyway, since the character's thoughts seem to be distinguishable enough, the chapters will be compiled from this point on. Though, separated, of course.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It’s only been a few months, but it feels like forever. I went there for a couple weeks, at the same time, and on the same days, I even tried a different day once. But I never saw him. Not a glimpse of him walking away, or climbing into a car. Nothing on the news. Nothing at all.
The only information that I found out was that he left the industry. Or at the least, the pimp that he had had before. But I had heard that from a fellow prostitute, so I’m not sure as to how accurate it was. It must have been what I said to him, that last time. And to think, that wasn’t even what I wanted to say.
I got myself checked out a couple of times. I thought that perhaps he was sick. Apparently, not very.
I resigned myself to never see him again. To never see his brown eyes, God how I loved those eyes! Or to feel his bones poking into my skin.
Then, he came into my work. The same job I’d gotten because of him. Because I needed the money to afford him. But to my horror, I didn’t get to help him. Someone else got to him first, and I messed up two orders damning myself for how I had missed him. That was before my manager got my attention.
There he was, still at the counter, with his food, waiting for, and staring at, me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I was smart with my money. Most people who do what I did, aren’t. I’d even gone back to school for a while. Gotten my GED, and taken a few business classes at a community college. With that bit of effort, and with the money that I had saved, I could live comfortably, as long as I held a job. Even if it was entry level.
I was able to adjust to the 9-5 more easily than I could have imagined. I think I feared being found out, so I made myself the model employee. People always seem to find out what you don’t want them to, and I’m anxious to avoid that. But it had been a month there, and I wasn’t found out, yet. So, things were going well.
Then, the potluck happened. I can’t cook, so I figured I would run down to the local LFC and get a meal from there. Inside, I saw my John in the back, stuffing chicken into a bucket. My heart failed to beat…
Until a chirpy girl asked to take my order. I stumbled with it, not caring, now. Still staring, at my John, who’d glanced at me now, then, gasped, and went back to work.
I’ve now paid, and my food’s just been handed to me by the same chirpy girl as before, and now I’m waiting at the counter. Why? I have no idea. Maybe, just maybe, though, if I stay here long enough, I can at least find out his name.
I had implied that the pimp was leniant with the prostitute because the pimp imagined that the prostitute would be back soon enough, but I edited last chapter to try to make that more clear.
Anyway, since the character's thoughts seem to be distinguishable enough, the chapters will be compiled from this point on. Though, separated, of course.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It’s only been a few months, but it feels like forever. I went there for a couple weeks, at the same time, and on the same days, I even tried a different day once. But I never saw him. Not a glimpse of him walking away, or climbing into a car. Nothing on the news. Nothing at all.
The only information that I found out was that he left the industry. Or at the least, the pimp that he had had before. But I had heard that from a fellow prostitute, so I’m not sure as to how accurate it was. It must have been what I said to him, that last time. And to think, that wasn’t even what I wanted to say.
I got myself checked out a couple of times. I thought that perhaps he was sick. Apparently, not very.
I resigned myself to never see him again. To never see his brown eyes, God how I loved those eyes! Or to feel his bones poking into my skin.
Then, he came into my work. The same job I’d gotten because of him. Because I needed the money to afford him. But to my horror, I didn’t get to help him. Someone else got to him first, and I messed up two orders damning myself for how I had missed him. That was before my manager got my attention.
There he was, still at the counter, with his food, waiting for, and staring at, me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I was smart with my money. Most people who do what I did, aren’t. I’d even gone back to school for a while. Gotten my GED, and taken a few business classes at a community college. With that bit of effort, and with the money that I had saved, I could live comfortably, as long as I held a job. Even if it was entry level.
I was able to adjust to the 9-5 more easily than I could have imagined. I think I feared being found out, so I made myself the model employee. People always seem to find out what you don’t want them to, and I’m anxious to avoid that. But it had been a month there, and I wasn’t found out, yet. So, things were going well.
Then, the potluck happened. I can’t cook, so I figured I would run down to the local LFC and get a meal from there. Inside, I saw my John in the back, stuffing chicken into a bucket. My heart failed to beat…
Until a chirpy girl asked to take my order. I stumbled with it, not caring, now. Still staring, at my John, who’d glanced at me now, then, gasped, and went back to work.
I’ve now paid, and my food’s just been handed to me by the same chirpy girl as before, and now I’m waiting at the counter. Why? I have no idea. Maybe, just maybe, though, if I stay here long enough, I can at least find out his name.