Short Smut, Vol. 1

Dean was the first and last killer I ever fucked. That I know of, at least.

Dean and I weren’t dating. He was just the career deviant from high school that I couldn’t shake. Every few weeks he’d appear at the wrong time and talk his way into my skirt. Did I mention he was hot enough to stop your heart with a look, and alpha enough to start it again with a snap of his fingers? Dean was cleft chin, thick hair, easy smile, and one-hundred percent damaged.

Just a week ago, Dean had found me in a fancy restaurant, slapped me, broke the strap of my dress, and dragged me past the shocked maitre d’. He pushed my face onto his cock and peeled out of the parking lot, screaming something about Muslims in government. That was the end of a special date with a very fabulous boy, Jack. Jack and I had a class together and he made me feel like Scarlett Johansson with the way he stared.

Sorry, Jack! I thought, mouth full of Dean’s amazing cock. I wanted this to be you.

Since Jack liked me so much, I expected to be able to salvage things with him at the next class. It turned out to be supremely uncomfortable:

“ Where’d you get that black eye, Lorelei?”

“ Violent sex games,” I said.

It went downhill from there. I’m the only one who gets Dean.

On the weekend of our final adventure together, Dean rolled up in a white ’88 Chevy Cavalier I didn’t recognize and screamed at me to get in. His eyes were fucking crazy; a girl wouldn’t dare say no.

Dean was tweaking. His skin quivered like hairy flan and he mumbled nonstop. I was terrified until he kissed the fuck out of me. Every kiss from that boy felt like we were jumping off a bridge together.

“ Happy twentieth, Lorelei,” he crooned.

He was unbuttoning my blouse even though we were right there in the car.

“ Thanks, baby. What did you get me?”

“ Three days of guaranteed awesome, Lorelei. Look at this, and this.” He showed me a roll of twenties and then a quart bag of Ecstasy pills-it was more than any reasonable sensationalist could take in a year. Dean didn’t have a job. He didn’t own a car. He didn’t have connections for that much X. There was a 9-mm pistol on the floor between my feet.

“ Dean, what did you do?”

“ Dayton, Ohio,” he said decisively. “Ali Katz is playing on the Ohiopalooza tour. You like her, right?”

Words could not express how much I loved that chick. I had a hip tattoo that matched hers.

He grinned at my face. He was calming down slightly, which melted some of my reserve. “Three days of you being a sexy counterculture whore. Disappoint your daddy like you always wanted. You see Ali Katz, while I have a permanent hard-on watching you slut around. You’re back on Monday, full of regrets.”

It sounded awesome, but… “I have an assignment due on Monday.”

“ The fuck?” I don’t know where I got the cheek to say no to him. He didn’t just hate being contradicted, he gutted conflict with a knife wherever it stumbled into his path. “I told you, college is a fucking waste of time. But it’s your birthday, so it’s your party. You may bring your books with you.”

“ It’s a project with another student. Jack.”

“ Quiet Jack?” Dean snorted. “He’s in your class? I feel like I saw him at a restaurant recently…”

“ Can we take a raincheck?”

“ We fucking cannot. This is a limited time offer, Lorelei.”

He flipped open a phone I didn’t know he owned and demanded Jack’s number from me.

“ Jack-o,” he said, his voice low. “I’m taking Lorelei on a road trip. No, she doesn’t get a choice. Yeah, I know about your dumb fucking homework. Here’s the deal, you’re coming with us. Yes. Yes, you are.”

Dean rolled his eyes at me and smiled. I wasn’t fooled.

He said this next: “I’ve had a horrible week, and I’m beating the fuck out of someone. If it’s not you, it’s Lorelei.”

He winked at me.

“ Right, we’ll see you in five minutes.” Dean hung up. “I got you something to wear.”

My blouse was open anyway, so I pulled it off and watched while he dug behind the seats. The back of the Cavalier was full of kids toys. He pulled out a Niemann Marcus bag, and inside was a shiny dress with the shoplifting tag still on it.

It was a shimmering, short, cocktail thing with spaghetti-straps and a fitted bodice. I let it slide luxuriously down over my breasts. I felt more pleased than I should have under Dean’s gaze.

“ Don’t wear anything else with it,” he said, watching me shimmy my jeans down.

The top was too low-cut to allow a regular bra. The breast cups were also sized larger than I was. They would be a constant invitation for anybody with an angled view, or for side-boob aficionados.

“ Not even panties?” I asked.

“ Panties are for teenagers. You’re twenty, now.”

Dean’s mood was only slightly improved by the time we rolled up to Jack’s dormitory.

Jack was pacing the sidewalk. He rushed over when he saw me through the passenger window.

“ Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

“ Don’t talk to Lorelei when I can’t hear,” Dean said. “If you whisper to her again, I’m putting a bullet through her brain. And then yours.”

“ Don’t mind Dean,” I said quickly, trying to smile. “You don’t have to come, Jack. I know it’s last-minute. I’ll talk to Dr. Redwhiler and explain that something came up. You should stay.”

“ I think I should come.”

“ No,” I said, holding my smile. “You stay. For reals. I will call you in a few days. I know I will.”

Jack wavered.

Dean started snapping his fingers. Oh crap.

“ Like my dress?” I asked quickly, for something to say.

Dean slapped the dash and we all jumped. “Is everybody fucking with me today? Because it’s the wrong fucking day to fuck with me.”

Jack gave me some kind of look and slid into the back seat.

“ Jack,” Dean said quietly, “some people are on a schedule.”

“ Yes, Dean,” Jack said. His face was gray.

“ For this last adventure,” Dean said, “we’re going on the road. Get it? On The Road. I’m Dean, that’s Jack. Lorelei, you’re Marylou.”

I’d read that book for a class last semester. I’d been curious because I knew it was Dean’s favorite, and I thought I could get a glimpse into his pathology. I couldn’t. It was all aimless wandering and misogyny.

“ Marylou, you whore,” Dean said. He laughed.

Our white ’88 Chevy Cavalier screeched out of the parking lot, out of Indiana State, and into the endless fucking fields where Dean could do anything he wanted.

I was all business.

With a glance at Jack I knew he wouldn’t decipher, I started on Dean. I leaned close and curled my arm around his neck. I worked his ear with my mouth, always aware of Jack’s face turned toward us. “Dean, baby. Let’s just raincheck this whole thing. I learned some new tricks.”

He pushed me away like I was an overly affectionate dog.

“ Where did you learn new tricks from, whore?”

“ My regular fucking around,” I said, flicking a look at Jack. He was watching me with pity, and something else.

A girl had to do what she could to keep everybody safe.

I crept back to Dean. I knew I looked like the chick everybody felt sorry for, the one with the asshole boyfriend and the raging case of Stockholm Syndrome. “I fucked so many guys last week that I learned new tricks. Fucking is the one thing I’m good at.”

“ You said it,” Dean crowed. “Jack, can you believe this whore?”

“ I can’t,” he said flatly. “I can’t believe her.”

We veered onto the highway, pressing aside traffic and nearly clipping a motorcycle.

Dean watched Jack steadily in the mirror. “So, Jack, you’re saying that Marylou is a liar?”

“ Nope.”

Jack was being strong, and I didn’t want him to be. No one could be stronger than Dean, and there was just no upside to standing up to him. I’d learned that years ago, and I was sorry Jack would learn it too.

“ Let me try to understand, Jack. You can’t believe Marylou, but she’s not a liar?” Dean’s voice was smooth and casual. Building up. “How does that even work, Jack?”

“ I don’t know,” Jack grated. He wanted to glance at me. I willed him not to.

“ Are you… are you surprised to learn she’s a whore?”

Jack was very still. He was thinking so hard I could see the air sizzling above his head.

“ Well,” he said finally, “It’s obvious that Marylou is a whore. But I can’t afford her, so I don’t know if she’s ‘only good at fucking.’”

Dean pounded the steering wheel and roared with laughter. It welled from some ecstatic, unwholesome place inside him. “Now you’re playing, Jack-o. Today’s your lucky day.”

Jack forced a smile and waited.

“ I have complete power over this whore. I know what she wants, I know what she’ll do. Isn’t that right, Marylou?”

“ Yes, Dean,” I said. Because, fuck it, he did.

Dean’s scruffy face was dangerous and knowing. His expression was taunting, as if he had some kind of foreknowledge about what I would do. When a guy knows me like that, it’s Spanish Fly. I’m too damn easy that way, a sucker for confidence, or madness.

“ How about a freebie, Jack? Marylou, why don’t you show Jack your talents? Give him one on the house.”

I forced my face toward Jack’s. I hated that Jack was seeing me like this-usually I was a well-put-together kind of girl, killing my classwork and owning other students in discussion. I hated (and loved) how Dean could make me feel things. I could have either died or come just then. Tip me in one direction or another.

“ Thank you,” Jack said. “That’s very thoughtful.”

“ You heard him, Marylou.” Dean had a twisted smile on his face, like something you’d see through a broken mirror. “Climb in back and do your class project.”

“ What?”

“ Do your homework, Marylou. Get it out of the way before we get to Ohiopalooza.”

I laughed out loud. Half relieved, half frustrated. “Homework, yeah, Of course. Jack, homework- right?”

Jack and I knocked out some very low quality work. Our class together was Criminal Justice, and neither of us could speak our minds how to incarcerate persistent offenders. Not with a hair-trigger persistent offender hanging off every word.

“ I declare that we’re done,” I said.

“ Um…” Jack glanced at Dean’s seat. He didn’t want our excuse to evaporate.

On queue, Dean shouted, “Stay back there, Marylou. You have room to spread out.”

Not really. Lonely toys and a giant duffel bag of scuba equipment occupied half of the back seat.

Jack and I huddled on the other half. Our thighs pressed together, and our shoulders bumped like ice cubes in a defeated alcoholic’s glass tumbler.

“ Fuck, you guys are depressing,” Dean groaned.

My phone vibrated with a text. WTF? I don’t see blueballs happening. Rev him up, ML! You need to go from bore to whore before I fall asleep.

So it was really happening. You want me to make out with Jack?

I will pay you $20, he texted back.

Huh. That was a punch in the gut. Oddly, it was a good punch.

Do I have a choice? I texted.

No.

I gave Jack a severely artificial smile. “Jack, how do you like Ali Katz?”

“ She’s great. Really sexy. You remind me of her. Not the sexy part, though of course you do. I mean are. I mean her hair…”

I turned to him. In the close confines of the back seat, this meant my boob pressed against his arm. I slid my knee up his thigh.

“ Thanks. She’s my most favorite singer of all time.”

“ Really, Marylou?”

“ Oh my God, yes! Ali is so awesome.” I stretched into him so I could half whisper, half nibble in his ear: “Don’t tell anyone, but I would totally be her groupie!”

“ Oh, you would? So I would, too.”

He was wooden and nervous, and he talked like an ESL class, but I knew I was reaching him. A shiver ran through his body. His eyes rolled wildly toward the back of Dean’s head and turned away.

He said, “We shouldn’t-”

“ Louder, Jack,” Dean said. “I don’t care about Marylou, but I want to hear everything you say.”

“ Play along,” I whispered, sliding my leg over his.

By this point I was half on top of him, my arms around his neck. I straddled his legs-that was the easy part. We both realized at the same time that I was also straddling his hand, which had been in his lap. He went into full mannequin mode.

I pulled his errant arm out from under me and put it over my shoulder, like he was hugging me. “Let’s sit close so I can stay warm.”

That was a euphemism for me puddling on his thighs, ultimately sinking my crotch onto his lap. To anybody driving past, it would look like we were fucking.

Dean texted again, and I read it behind Jack’s head.

U amazing whore! Pussy to crotch in under three minutes.

I answered, I’m only getting $20, have to move fast.

Maybe he’ll tip you. So how do you like him so far?

I didn’t know what Dean was playing at, but I knew I couldn’t lie. I’m a little turned on. What about you?

I’m jerking off as I drive.

I laughed at that and then realized he probably wasn’t kidding.

I sat back so Jack could take all me in. My hands were on his shoulders, fingernails stroking his neck. I shamelessly used my elbows to press my breasts together. They nearly swelled out of the breast cups at the top of my dress. Just as he noticed them, my spaghetti straps slid helpfully down my elbows.

Jack stared into my cleavage like it had subtitles.

Despite everything, I felt remarkably at peace.

This was what Dean wanted me to do. I finally had a good excuse. I was part terrified, part horrified, part electrified. Jack felt the same way, because his dick was as hard and badly-placed as the cross-bar on a men’s bicycle. The totally unhip corduroy of his pants grated against me.

The Cavalier surged as Dean careened across two lanes to find an opening. It was like Jack and I were on a wild animal bearing us who-knew-where.

“ Have you seen Dean when he’s mad?” I asked.

“ Dean? Mad?” His eyes asked, You mean I haven’t yet?

“ You want to make sure he’s your friend,” I said. “And don’t be disgusted with me.”

He looked surprised. “No, Lorelei. I love you. — Sorry. That came out wrong. I meant, whatever happens, I will help you through it.” He glanced at the back of Dean’s head. “You make a great whore, Marylou.”

“ Fuck yeah,” Dean said. “We’re almost at Indianapolis. Finish before we get there.”

“ Hang on,” I whispered to Jack.

I ripped open his fly and helped him push his pants down his thighs. My breasts popped out of my dress and regardless how weird our situation was, Jack immediately latched on with his hands.

Because I wasn’t wearing panties, I was able to sink onto Jack’s shaft without any further delay. The look on his face was startled amazement, as if he couldn’t believe anything his body was reporting-not his eyes, not his cock, not the palms of his hands. I sort of felt the same. We’d gone from zero to penetration in ten seconds.

“ I’m fucking you for $20,” I said. I don’t know why I said that, but it made me even wetter.

“ She would do it for $10,” Dean called back, “but I was feeling generous.”

I slid up Jack’s pole, and back down. The world seemed to spin with sensation.

Part of it was Dean, shifting lanes again, driving dangerously in traffic.

“ Kiss me,” Jack said. “Kiss me now.”

I wrapped my arms around his head, bringing my lips to his. I hadn’t noticed the scruff on his cheeks. It brushed mine and I shivered down to my hips-which took over by shivering on his cock. His mouth was hot against mine, like he had a furnace inside.

“ A kissing whore,” Dean laughed. “The best kind of whore: total girlfriend experience. Worth every nickel. A+++. Would recommend to friends.”

“ I’m terrible,” I muttered.

A girl doesn’t mind being terrible sometimes.

Jack and I spent the next twenty minutes to Indianapolis surging against each other. I moved up and down, and Jack steered me with his hands on my hips. It was straight highway sex, me in the open with my dress bunched around my waist, biting my lips, glancing at the other cars around us.

’ 88 Chevy Cavaliers are all window. We were fucking in a bubble, surrounded by leering truck drivers, dubious women, and excitable young men. Cars full of pointed fingers, laughter, and hastily-aimed cameras. I was a public highway whore, and I had a dick between my legs that was lighting me up like a Roman Candle.

Jack came as we passed the “Welcome to Indianapolis” sign. It turned out he was strong, another surprise for me. He bucked in the seat, holding me against him as he penetrated deeper than I’d ever had a man inside me. I was a sponge, juicy and stretched out, no match for his galvanic strength. I came with a scream and collapsed backward, my breasts heaving at the ceiling as I caught my breath. I didn’t care who saw me.

Dean laughed. “Save some of that energy, Marylou. You’re going to need it.”

“ What do you mean?”

“ Remember that roll of money I showed you? The Benjamins? I lost it.”

“ You did not,” I said.

“ I left it at the last gas station,” he said. “And don’t call me a liar.”

I sat up quickly. “I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t mean to call you that.”

“ We’re in Indianapolis, a hundred miles to Dayton. The gas tank is empty. What are we going to do, Marylou?”

I knew what we were going to do.

Dean must have read it in my eyes, because he nodded with a smile. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be awesome.”

“ I don’t understand,” Jack said.

Jack was still inside me. His cock wasn’t quite going limp. Even as some blood left it, other blood was rushing in-I imagined a traffic jam in his pants, something like the Indianapolis traffic that had now slowed us to a crawl. Oops! I pulled my dress up and covered myself again.

I kissed Jack’s forehead. It was no use delaying any longer. “We need money for gas.”

“ So?”

“ So, Jack, I have a money-maker between my legs.”

“ Oh.”

Come on, Jack. I watched him closely. What he said next would dictate where our budding romance would lead. Would Jack and Lorelei have a second date? Would they fuck again? It depended on him.

He screwed a smile onto his face. “I don’t like it, Lorelei, but it’s our only hope. Just remember, you’re new to this, so you shouldn’t charge too much.”

The hell he didn’t like it. He was getting harder inside me by the second. And I was getting wetter. If I wasn’t careful, we’d end up fucking again and I wouldn’t earn anything.

“ When I’m whoring, Jack, my name is Marylou.”

We slid into the last open parking spot at the bus depot. The Cavalier sputtered and died.

“ No gas,” Dean said with deep satisfaction. He turned to the back seat. It was magic hour and his gorgeous, regular features were luminous. His eyes were intense green dares that could provoke me to do anything. Behind his head, the bus depot glowed in the lowering sunlight, full of seedy promise.

“ Marylou, there’s a lot on the line. Go in and see if anybody is interested. Jack and I will discuss which of us wants to pimp you the most.”

With a welling of idiot emotion, I suddenly felt like I could do anything for these wonderful guys, down to earning gas money. But I was also a regular college girl, and I was nervous about this bat-shit insane escapade I was starting.

“ Okay, boys. Here goes nothing.”

I flashed what I hoped was a dazzling smile and strode away, toward the bus station.

A girl must be open to new experiences.

Despite the full parking lot, the bus depot was largely empty. Even so, I made a scene. The men inside (it was only men) looked bleary, unkempt, and low-end, just like me. I checked myself in a glass door and saw smeared lipstick and wind-tossed hair.

Still, I was a hot young woman in a shiny little dress. I was showing a lot of breast-not just down the front but the sides too. My back was bare down to my ass. My legs, except for the top few inches, were uncovered. I was comprehensively open to inspection.

I was inspected, all right. Here was a sexy woman clomping past each man in turn as if she was waiting for something. They stared like I was a winning lottery number and either smiled back or turned surly when I smiled at them. I think I preened a little-I’m so vain!

Jack and Dean followed me. Dean winked and took a seat, clearly enjoying himself.

Jack looped his arm through mine. “Find one, yet?”

I wanted things to start happening. I simply nodded at the nearest man.

“ Here’s one,” I said. My voice was husky in a way I hadn’t heard before.

The man was young, college-age like we were. He couldn’t take his eyes off me. We were right in front of him, so I twirled a little. His fascinated eyes roamed up my legs, over my ass, to my breasts, then face-then back down to start over again.

“ She’s a handful,” Jack told him.

“ I believe it,” College Boy said. To my relief, he sounded normal and non-crazy.

“ You don’t have to take my word for it.”

“ Huh?”

Jack guided me over and pressed me into the seat next to him. College Boy seemed nervous about that. I turned toward him and stared, perhaps a little too intensely. I was turned on and steaming like a bachelor pad Jacuzzi, breathing deeply through wet, messy, fresh-kissed lips. I wanted to memorize his features. In the first five seconds of sitting close to him I knew I could fuck him.

“ Think of her as a short-term girlfriend,” Jack said. “I have to do something for about ten minutes, so you keep her company. You can make out with her.”

“ I- what?” College Boy glanced at me, and I nodded.

“ A dollar a minute,” Jack added.

Too high! I thought. He’ll never go for it.

So help me, a part of me wanted to just work for free until I gained enough experience.

College Boy still didn’t move.

“ Marylou,” Jack said, “hold his hand.”

I took one of his hands in both of mine. He glanced at me tremulously. I loved that he was nervous. His hand felt strange and hot. I was so turned on.

“ Kiss his hand,” Jack said.

I gave it a long kiss on the palm. His fingers curled around my face.

“ Isn’t she great?” Jack asked. “Put his finger in your mouth.”

I finally had something to suck. I closed my lips over his forefinger and slid them down to the knuckles, washing his finger with my tongue. I sucked him, moving his hand in and out, watching his awed expression.

I didn’t even know his name.

I was such a whore!

“ She’s good at this,” Jack said. “Marylou likes hooking up with guys. Only, we need gas money.”

“ All I have is ten dollars left,” College Boy said with deep regret. “I just bought my ticket.”

I plied him with more finger blow-job. I tried to be sexy — I wanted this gig!

He wavered.

“ Dollar a minute?” he asked. “To make out?”

We had him!

“ See you in ten,” Jack said. He gave me a proud look and turned away. In the distance, Dean gave me a thumbs-up.

It wasn’t fucking or sucking, but it was whoring. I slid onto his lap and wrapped my arms around his neck. He was immediately distracted by my cleavage, and I had to hook his chin and draw his eyes up.

“ Kiss me, gorgeous,” I whispered.

He tentatively opened his mouth. I was already hot and ready to go-I could have swarmed all over him, but that would have probably been terrifying. Instead, I started with some light kisses that were the right mix of eager and shy.

He learned fast and kissed me more deeply. His mouth wasn’t fresh, but then I didn’t want it to be. He was a stranger and I wanted him to taste strange… that was the turn-on.

The kissing turned hot. He realized I was the Full Girlfriend Experience and didn’t leave his hands on my back. They slid down to my ass and under the hem of my short dress. His fingers met my skin, sending shivers up my spine.

Then his hands slid around to my front, intimately learning every curve of my body, and latched onto my breasts. My mouth was on his so I couldn’t talk, but my approval came out as a low, needy moan. His hands slid inside my dress. He palmed my hard nipples. The strange hands felt sensual as they lifted and squeezed my breasts.

“ You’re such a young whore,” he gasped.

“ I’m twenty.”

“ You’re also really cheap.”

He knew just the right things to say to me. I grabbed one hand out of my top and shoved it between my legs. My burning hot pussy met his fingers and exploded with sensation. He delved into me, and I threw my head back with a gasp. I opened my legs to give him deeper access-who cared if we were in the middle of a bus depot?

I stretched in his arms, my spine cracking. His fingers worked in me-either he was very good at this, or I was simply very receptive. My chest popped out of the dress-that bodice was useless for holding in breasts but perfect for a hooker. College Boy latched on to my hard nipple and swished it with his tongue. With nips and licks, he got down to business-sucking deeply as he finger-banged me.

I wanted to be kissing him-this man I didn’t know.

This man I didn’t know.

I opened my eyes. The bus depot looked upside-down to my point of view, and the grimy, trash-strewn linoleum floor was my new sky. Beaten-up chairs filled that sky, several of them containing strange men. The men watched me with mesmerized eyes, as if from above, like I was lying beneath them. They met my eyes, some boldly. Men I didn’t know.

Men I could know.

A girl could get used to this, I thought, and then my vision turned white.

College Boy’s fingers found the right location inside me, with the right balance of squeezing, rubbing, and tugging. He felt my body tighten and clamped down on my nipple.

Orgasm flooded through me like a warm red wave. I don’t think I made a noise, but it was no secret what I was feeling. I simply lay in his arms, listening with a body that had turned completely sensitive. I felt his heartbeat in his legs, I felt the ridges of his fingers as they slid over my sex, I felt the wafts of his breath.

When I opened my eyes, my vision was spinning. Jack stood next to us, waiting with his hand out.

College Boy was still breathing hard when he passed over two five dollar bills. “Worth it.”

I glowed with accomplishment and pride.

“ Thank you, that was amazing,” I said. I pecked him on the cheek.

“ Wait-!” He looked so woeful I had to smile. “You’re going already?”

“ Do you have more money?” Jack was enjoying being a bad-ass pimp.

“ Not right now… but later?”

“ Then talk to us later.”

I took his phone and punched in my email address. “Write me if you’re near College Town. I’m a dollar a minute. Tell your friends.”

Jack led me away-but not back to Dean. I wanted a moment to covet the money I’d earned, to look at it and talk about it, but he led me directly to the men’s restroom.

“ Your next John is here,” he said, pushing through the door.

“ Ooh!” That was more like it. “Some privacy too.”

Jack gave me a flat smile. “Fucking around in the open like you just did, there isn’t a person in the bus station who believes you are an undercover cop. I mean, you were naked and thrashing in that kid’s lap.”

“ There was gas money on the line,” I said.

“ This guy talked to us while you were still coming. You’re his for thirty.”

My next John.

He was a tall man in a nondescript trench coat. Under some scruff, he was actually quite handsome, with planed cheeks and a cleft chin. I thought he looked quite kissable, in fact. Just like the last guy.

I don’t know if that was Marylou’s hooker personality shining through or I was simply lucky to have three relative hotties (counting Jack) for my first day as a whore. I assumed they all wouldn’t be this awesome-

He reached for me and derailed my line of thought. He seemed tentative, as if I would say no to him somehow. I left Jack’s side and stood in front of him, posing as he slowly stroked my cheek.

His fingers ran through my hair. They traced down my temple, jaw, neck, to the line of my strap, and then down to my breast and into my cleavage-the simple, lonely touch made goosebumps break out on my body. I was ready to go again, I was revving like a glossy muscle car.

“ You’re simply gorgeous,” he said. “You are bewitching.”

Good lord, he was French.

“ You’re beautiful too,” I told him, perhaps a little fervently, but I meant it. I wanted him, my body wanted him-and there was no doubt that he would have me. What I liked best about selling myself was the certainty. I knew something was happening. The Frenchman’s mouth opened, not quite a smile, which revealed strong teeth. He smelled like cigarettes as he pulled me close.

Every different man will have different details, I realized. Each John will have little things that make them different.

I surprised my Frenchman by standing on my toes and kissing him. He slipped his trench coat to the floor, and then I had his warm torso, in jeans and a button-up, under my hands. I pulled him close, rubbing my breasts across his chest. His mouth was strong and knowing. It opened against mine and it somehow felt like he made a direct connection to the sex between my legs. I pressed against his lips, deeply hungry, wanting more sensation from him. He gave a flattering groan.

I feel the same, Frenchman! He was so different from the College Boy from two minutes ago, who was different still from Jack. A girl could get used to this variety! My lips were still sensitive from the earlier make-out sessions, so they picked up with the Frenchman where the others left off. This third man of my “professional career” was just another stage in a day-long sex act that was building to an explosion.

“ Your dress?”

I pulled it over my head before he finished asking.

He lifted me off the ground and I curled my legs around his hips. His mouth slid down my chest. His tongue left a wet trail that set my skin on fire. When he landed on a nipple I heaved against him. I wanted to escape the intense feeling-but dive into it too.

I settled on gathering him closer, as if I could control the sensation by smothering him against me. I clasped him with my legs, scissoring so tightly he grunted. He couldn’t pull away without wrestling me-but he didn’t want to pull away.

I glanced in the mirror and saw Jack standing by the door. He was timing us with a wristwatch and staring at me with adoration.

Holy shit, I thought. Jack really likes me!

I had thought we were having a classroom crush. Put me next to a guy in class, I can fall in love in an hour and then forget him until the next day. That’s just the way I’ve always been. I’m especially fun on dates.

Jack was different. I was obsessing over him even in the off hours. Now here he was, sharing my dream fantasy with me, glowing with pride. It was mutual. As Marylou I trusted him. As Lorelei, I craved him.

I reminded myself that I had responsibilities.

I turned back to my Frenchman and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. He stopped me: “Someone might come in and see me.”

I smiled at that. Double standard much? I unclenched his torso and landed lightly on the ground.

I hope I didn’t seem too eager, but I manhandled him into the handicapped stall, gave Jack wink, and slammed the door behind us.

Now in private, he let me open his shirt to reveal the hard, tan body of a laborer. He had a tattoo of some kind of French army emblem right over his heart. I laid my face against it and brushed my lips over his detailed chest. I gripped his sides. He was hot and soft to the touch, but muscled like Adonis.

One hand cupped my ass to lift me up, and the other landed on my sex, fingers working. My sex was like my nipple-ready to go. It was monumentally wet from what had already been the sexiest day of my life. I held his gaze as he explored me down there.

He opened the folds of my lower lips, and they felt soft as flower petals against his rough fingers. His callused palms seemed to score my inner thighs, as if I weren’t flesh but instead some inestimably delicate artwork that shouldn’t be handled. I wanted to be handled.

“ Tell me something in French,” I breathed.

“ Qu'est-ce que je ferais sans toi, ma petite?”

Wow. For a moment I could only smile dumbly at him.

A girl had to be careful listening to French.

“ Let me suck you,” I said, sliding to my knees.

I had his belt open in seconds, and his long, dark cock free in the air a moment later. I didn’t even take it in my hand-too slow. I caught it in my mouth and swallowed it whole, pressing my face into his groin. I didn’t stop until his pubic hairs tickled my lips, and my face pressed against his strong, flat stomach.

He gasped an obscene word and tried to get away-too much sensation maybe. Welcome to my world, Frenchman! I held him inside me with my fingernails in his ass, like a threat if he dared to pull away.

The dick in my mouth affected me like it affected him. For a moment I was nothing but throat. Girls can go into a blow-job trance if they’re not careful, and I felt it beckoning me. I loved being in the zone. Heat, saliva, rhythm-I could come before the man did if I wasn’t careful. I told myself to stay professional.

The Frenchman filled me without any extra space. The whole man was inside me: this lean, handsome ex-solider from France, who had no backstory, but was overly modest about nudity and had epic bedroom eyes. I laved the root of his cock, and he thrashed against the door. I felt connected to his every movement down to the smallest shiver. I could fucking read his mind through his cock.

I must be the best whore ever. Cock Whisperer.

Eventually, of course, I had to breathe.

I pulled off and gasped, but he plunged forward again. I wasn’t expecting this and choked a little-which he liked. Time for his revenge. He grabbed my head and pumped my face- hard. His flat, veined stomach slid in front of my vision like it was on hydraulics. I choked and tried to clear my throat, and that made me gag. I saw his bedroom eyes light up at my discomfort, and then I didn’t mind it so much. He was digging me.

“ Putain!” he gasped, staring down at me. Whore.

I knew that word in most languages.

I watched him for signals through teary eyes. When he decided to switch, I was ready. He pulled out and I stood up, coughing. He spun me around and held my hips with strong fingers that seemed to sink into my womb. He lifted me high, until my toes left the floor and I hung off the top of the stall with a precarious grip. I waited…

“ Moment,” he said. He dropped me.

Fucking condoms.

His cock was sheathed in about eight seconds but that was about a century past my preferred deadline. He finally plunged himself into my sex, and it was like I had tripped into a hot-tub. Heat and lust exploded through me like I was hit by a libido bomb. I cried out and heard Jack step forward on the other side of the stall. Then he detected the pleasure in my next moan and dropped out of angry pimp mode (but it was nice to know he was there).

The Frenchman’s hands shifted and I actually screamed. Somehow he had found the precise position I needed. His cock rubbed a new location in my canal, and everything I had thought was sensation snuffed out like a candle in a forest fire.

“ Oui,” my Frenchman gasped, sounding smug. He clenched his hands to freeze my torso and pounded me from the new angle. “Le point G, putain. Le petite zone vaginale.”

It sounded damn sexy to me, whatever he said. I was all about my building orgasm, which was now a self-feeding maelstrom of desire and heat that laid waste to my language centers. Who knew? Maybe I’d speak French by the end of this.

I forgot to hold myself up and simply flopped against the wall. It was a bus depot so it wasn’t the cleanest surface: I didn’t care. I breathed against it with a wide-open mouth, my teeth clattering against the “for a good time call…” graffiti each time my Frenchman plunged into my sex. I would have licked the entire bathroom clean if he’d demanded it-I was delirious with growing sensation and not thinking straight.

The Frenchman felt it too. His movements turned jangly in a way I recognized from all men. He was building to his own explosion, and just the knowledge that he was using me for this sent me over the edge.

My last cry sounded sexy even to me-a throaty squeal, then a high whine that ran out of air… Lights exploded in my eyes.

My horrible, dirty new job.

This disgusting stall in a men’s room.

The stranger using my body to get himself off.

I was fabulously lewd. I was easy and available, and deeply in love with whatever man was closest. In real life I was a good girl, but now I had this new thing I could do. I could become a cheap, low-life whore whenever I wanted.

These thoughts combined with the hands on my pelvis and the unflinching, friction-hot cock battering my pussy from behind. My body went cold, and the orgasm bloomed like a time-lapse flower between my legs. Sensation after sensation peeled out of me and refracted through my body. The surges built like a storm system that hit my mental coastline and wiped out all thought.

I must have died for a second. I didn’t feel like I had a body. I was nothing but that ring of flesh around the Frenchman’s cock. I squeezed it as hard as I could, being a brain-damaged whore, and felt his shaft swell. I was the Cock Whisperer! I felt the deliveries spurt up his shaft. I was a receptacle for his cum.

He cried out and jetted into me. My feet kicked the air. His body shook, and my ass was so tight against his groin that my body shook too. Beads of perspiration spattered the floor. I wanted to feel him fill me with seed. I wanted that goddamn condom to break but it held.

“ Fuck yes,” were my first words, when I returned to sanity.

The Frenchman breathed against my shoulder. He leaned against me without strength, and I was pressed fully against the wall of the stall. I slid a little because of my sweat. My feet weren’t touching the ground, but I was slowly lowering as his cock shrank out of my vagina.

“ Merci,” he said and stood. He pulled off his condom and was about to flush it when I stopped him.

“ I want to keep this,” I told him. “It’s my trophy.”

He gave the first smile I saw on his face. It looked like a stranger there, but cute nonetheless. “I wish you were my trophy. Maybe I see you again?”

“ Can you get to College Town?” I gave him my email address.

He gave me a slow, tender kiss, which I let myself enjoy. “Ma belle,” he murmured and left the stall.

When I was able to walk, I followed him. My Frenchman was gone, but there were three ten-dollar bills on the floor by my crumpled dress. I added the knotted-off condom full of French sperm. I turned to Jack to ask him to take a picture with his phone.

Jack wasn’t alone.

Dean was there too, with a lit cigarette and a hungry look on his face.

Next to them was another stranger-an older man, white-haired, with a pot belly. He was expensively dressed. In contrast to his wrinkles, he had a wishful young smile as he stared at my naked, sweat-streaked, and probably grimy body. I couldn’t help but smile back.

“ Marylou, you’re a big hit,” said Jack, his eyes devouring me.

“ I would love a few minutes of your time,” the sexy older man said, “to help me remember what my twenties were like.”

Done.

A girl loves flattery.

I walked up to him. The scrutiny from three men at once made me feel slinky and sexy as I walked.

I gave the old man a lingering kiss-delicately at first, and then more passionately when I realized he was as solid as my other men. There was nothing fragile or geriatric about him.

He wore cologne, and for the first time in my life I really loved cologne. I was going to be taken by a sophisticated man with expensive cologne.

“ This is going to be good,” the man said, when I pulled away to let him breathe.

A girl’s thoughts exactly.

Whoring sounds easy, but it’s exhausting!

Forty minutes and two Johns later, I was spent, and Dean led me alone into the parking lot. I was over-fucked and teetering in my shoes. I knew what I looked like and I liked how I smelled: cologne, cigarettes, desperation, and cum-a potent fragrance that would never wash out of my memory.

“ This car isn’t mine,” he said, opening the door.

“ No shit, Dean.”

“ I was buying pills from the dude who owned this car. He decided to steal my money and keep his pills. I was fine with that. But then he pulled his gun out and sprayed bullets. It was fucking insane, Lorelei. I was so scared. He tried to shoot me but I grabbed the gun and bent his arm back, and then he shot again and hit himself. It was a bad scene. I jumped in his car and came to find you.”

I merely sat. I was unable to understand what he was telling me.

“ If anybody asks you,” he added, “tell them exactly what I said. Don’t make yourself an accessory. I’m going to prison, unless I can get self-defense.”

“ Oh, Dean.” I finally started crying.

“ No-this is okay. I need to stop being an addict. I need my GED. I’ll rehabilitate. This is a good thing.”

I knew the odds against all of that. “Dean…”

He put a finger on my lips. “Before I turn myself in, I wanted to tie up all my loose ends.”

“ I’m a loose end?”

“ In every sense of the word,” he said, which made us laugh. “Lorelei, you’ve been dropping hints about your whore fantasy ever since high school. You loved every second of this trip. Tell me I’m wrong.”

I shook my head. A girl wasn’t going to start lying at this point.

“ My fantasy was to finally see you sell yourself. It’s weird, but it works for me. It was worth all the trouble.”

He gave me an ardent kiss, and God help me, I wanted to follow up on it. I wasn’t thinking too clearly just then. After more than an hour in the bus depot men’s room, my solution to everything seemed to be sex.

“ Why did you bring Jack?” I asked. “Why was he my first customer? You had the whole world to pick from.”

“ Jack was crucial, Lorelei. He knows everything. I showed him your diary last week.”

“ You what now?”

“ Yeah. After we made that scene in the restaurant and had our fun. You were sleeping so I went looking for him. I was going to pound his face for dating you. Instead, when I found him, we talked. He’s a nice guy, Lorelei, and I apparently get off on setting you up with guys.”

“ You’d be a great pimp,” I murmured.

“ Jack really likes you. I think he likes your go-get-‘em attitude.”

“ He read my diary,” I repeated. My diary was full of- oh, crap.

Dean watched my conflict with transparent delight.

“ He’s on board with your abnormal fantasies, Lorelei. He’s obviously as perverted as you are. He won’t hit you during sex, though. He didn’t like you with the black eye.”

“ Black eyes are hard to explain anyway.” I kissed Dean and gave him another hug. “I know we have a weird relationship, but you understand me, Dean. You were always the asshole I needed.”

“ Time to graduate to nice guys,” he said softly.

We sat for a moment and then he shook me. “Thanks to you, we have $130 to get us to Dayton. Go get Jack. I’ll drop you guys off at Ohiopalooza before I turn myself in.”

I nodded, unsure what I was feeling. Elated? Sad? Relieved?

“ One last time on the road.”