Thursday Evening
folder
Romance › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
22
Views:
3,316
Reviews:
26
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Romance › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
22
Views:
3,316
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.
Ranting
A/N- You should be able to figure it out by yourself, but this is written from the whore's point of view.
Yeah, I just like calling him that.
F word is used.
Constructive criticism= good.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You don’t know what it’s like. It’s… insanely dangerous. Between serial killers, STDs, the police, and drugs, I’m surprised that there were any of the same people that I started with. And trust me, that is a small amount.
“It’s an entirely different world. And you don’t know about any of it. You might think you do, because you’ve had a prostitute, but that’s nothing like the real thing. You don’t have to live with it. You don’t have to live with yourself.” I paused here. I bit my lip. He was looking hurt, now. But I couldn’t stop here. I had to say it. I had to tell someone, and he’d do. “You’ve never had to deal with blowing a guy, and you can still taste him, and he’s announcing that he’s not going to pay you because you didn’t do a good job. It happens all the time, too, it seems.”
“And the women. They are horrible. All of them. They’re all messed up. They whore for the drugs. That’s all. You learn real quick not to trust them. You listen to what they say about police and bad clients, because that could be relevant to you, someday, but you can’t trust them with the things you can tell a friend. They’ll ask for money constantly, for drugs. Sometimes, they’ll tell you a sob story about how their kids are starving, and they are, but that’s not why they want the money.” I bit my lip again. Harder this time. I wish he’d quit looking at me like that, like I’m saying something other than the truth. I was ranting, I knew that. But I’d dealt with it. Now was the hard part, though.
“And… you feel perpetually unclean. You can take dozens of showers, and test negative for everything, but the knowledge that you… fucked… random strangers for money? That stays with you. That doesn’t wash off.
“So, you are so very wronged, if by some chance, you found a person who doesn’t hate you for what you did, that you can’t look them in the eye because you can’t stand yourself.” He moved forward at this point. I am not done, though. I have to finish. I’ve been planning this since I saw him again.
“You weren’t supposed to give a damn. And you weren’t supposed to make me a give a damn, either. That’s why I’ve been gone.”
Yeah, I just like calling him that.
F word is used.
Constructive criticism= good.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You don’t know what it’s like. It’s… insanely dangerous. Between serial killers, STDs, the police, and drugs, I’m surprised that there were any of the same people that I started with. And trust me, that is a small amount.
“It’s an entirely different world. And you don’t know about any of it. You might think you do, because you’ve had a prostitute, but that’s nothing like the real thing. You don’t have to live with it. You don’t have to live with yourself.” I paused here. I bit my lip. He was looking hurt, now. But I couldn’t stop here. I had to say it. I had to tell someone, and he’d do. “You’ve never had to deal with blowing a guy, and you can still taste him, and he’s announcing that he’s not going to pay you because you didn’t do a good job. It happens all the time, too, it seems.”
“And the women. They are horrible. All of them. They’re all messed up. They whore for the drugs. That’s all. You learn real quick not to trust them. You listen to what they say about police and bad clients, because that could be relevant to you, someday, but you can’t trust them with the things you can tell a friend. They’ll ask for money constantly, for drugs. Sometimes, they’ll tell you a sob story about how their kids are starving, and they are, but that’s not why they want the money.” I bit my lip again. Harder this time. I wish he’d quit looking at me like that, like I’m saying something other than the truth. I was ranting, I knew that. But I’d dealt with it. Now was the hard part, though.
“And… you feel perpetually unclean. You can take dozens of showers, and test negative for everything, but the knowledge that you… fucked… random strangers for money? That stays with you. That doesn’t wash off.
“So, you are so very wronged, if by some chance, you found a person who doesn’t hate you for what you did, that you can’t look them in the eye because you can’t stand yourself.” He moved forward at this point. I am not done, though. I have to finish. I’ve been planning this since I saw him again.
“You weren’t supposed to give a damn. And you weren’t supposed to make me a give a damn, either. That’s why I’ve been gone.”