Burning Sex

I asked a glass of wine at the bar.

I don't need to turn around to know it's Ifan. You left many men miserable. House Mom Loefel run every club and cares for the girls.

She limits our drinking. She assists with our clothing and informs us when to go onstage. She ensures the club's financial success.

"It's not a good idea to leave while people are waiting for you, particularly when some females have no one to dance for," Loefel explains.

Shrugging, I sip my drink.

Ifan, Loefel replies, "you've needed a break since you began."

Exactly! I graduate from a university with honors.

I've told Loefel a million times, "I need money."

"Isn't there another way to generate money besides being unhappy while making others unhappy?" Loefel asks while grabbing my wine. "That's not healthy."

Whatever their appearance, women can always sell sex. Which is where I am financially. Sexual prostitute.

"I wish I could find work that pays this well without..." I struggle to find the right words.

"Pleasing men?!" Loefel asks. She nailed it. She grins.

Loefel pauses, contemplating. What's she thinking?

She slips a number from her phone.

"Go home, dear." "Call them in the morning."

" it's phone sex. They need your creativity and intellect. "

I thank Loefel. It's possible!

"Thanks, Ya..." Loefel stops me as I'm going to speak.

She says, "Go home." "Really. You're useless here."

Near midnight, I remove my makeup,.

Tonight, taxis are scarce. When one stops, I hop in.

As I enter, another door opens.A man enters.

My taxi. What the fuck is he doing?

"Please, Financial Street No. 56"! The man yells at driver. He's fresh from the club.

"Hi!" I shout, and he turns. He stares at me like he knows me.

If he wasn't leaving the club, I'd be crushing on him.

I said, "This is my taxi."

Finally, he speaks.

He says, "Listen, Miss." "My dad died and the taxi is coming..."

"Whatever. I'm done dealing with strippers. "

"Give me the money before you go," I said, pulling out my phone.

He gets off and gives me 200 dollars.

"Westwood No.39," I inform the cabdriver, thinking about the phone sex line.

The taxi passes the Plaza, where Gorgeous Jerk got out, and heads to 8th Avenue. As we reach Times Square, I check my watch.

Almost midnight. I shout at the taxi driver, who stops with a lack of astonishment from having seen everything in his career. I pay the fee and proceed to Kevin's building at 50th and 8th.

Kevin lives alone. As someone who completed college a couple of years before me, he's a major catch in New York City's dating pool.

As I unlock his door with his keys from my handbag, I think about this.

Indeed. I have keys. After two months of dating, he handed them to me last month. He finds me hot. I exercise to look beautiful. Dresses, heels, and yoga pants are my goals. I'm neither vain or a shopaholic. I'm cute, however. He probably likes it.

Kevin doesn't like putting me down, so I fake it to make sure everything is okay. Knowing what I can do to him turns me on and makes me wet.

So tonight . I want to sex. Will his cock please me tonight? Lucky evening.

Kevin should exercise more. Every time I bring it up, he says he's busy and needs to relax. He n ever skips the gym. That man works out daily.

As I open the door, I wonder what sex with that person might be like.

Maybe tonight I'll imagine Kevin is Gorgeous Jerk.

"Fuck, sweetie, that's good. Kevin says, just like that"

"Fuck baby," he says.

I should've contacted him before showing up.

Why do I soften my steps?

I don't know why my heart is so fast.

I'm in his bedroom. He is fucking with a girl. I shut my eyes and brace myself.

I liked us together. That's it. Perhaps I'm mistaken. Perhaps Kevin didn't like me. I dunno.

Kevin pauses while being lifted up. He turns to see me. Wide-eyed,

" Arcadia !" Kevin shouts.

I simply stand there while he stares down at whomever is below him and then at me.

"What's up, Arcadia?"

I'm shook.

Kevin repeats my name, as if it can change what I see.

I'll never forget what I'm witnessing. Kevin leaves the bed with him huge, slimy dick.

The lady snatches the blanket as she attempts to hide himself.

Huge breasts. Thin. Stupid face.

"Argonia!" Kevin continues.

I wish there was a way to expose my ex-scumbaggery. I'm clueless. So I grab my phone.

Facebook opens. I go live.

I'm young. I have many Facebook pals. Kevin. We share numerous pals. Friends from Kevin's job.

I push the button, and done. Facebook live!

"Everyone, Kevin, whose dick is firm.My ex. "

The wooman on the bed unfazed. Her tits swing as she gets out of bed, making me cringe. Did he cheat because I don't have her tits? D cups.

"Hey, love bug," she waves as she grabs pants. "Hi. $150/hr. Want my website? "

Hook?

Kevin Perry cheated on me with a hooker.

I say calmly, "Kevin Perry" "I want everyone my friends to know, so they don't question why we split up, that I caught you cheating on me with a whorel!"

Kevin's 5-inch cock deflates. I can't help smirking. It's crazy.

"Arcadia, stop!" Kevin yells.

Try turning off my phone.

I tell him, "I have nothing more to say, you dumb, selfish shitbag."

I switch off my phone.

The hooker says, "Hi!" "Just in case."

I descend stairs. Time flies. I'm outdoors suddenly. I cross the street and enter the subway.

I don't know where I'm heading, but I'm headed home.

On the way, I thought of what happened and can't help sobbing. Nope. No tears! Nope!