What the hell, I was being paid for it, wasn't I? He probably knew darn well that I spent my "off" nights bathing and shaving and generally grooming my girlish young body just for him. Not that he ever noticed it much. He just liked to see me lick my lips, that was his idea of grooming. And that was what finally rubbed my nerves raw. The one-track-mind dedication to that same old nitty-gritty. Just once, just out of sheer deviltry, couldn't he do the unexpected? Never mind screwing me up, just screw; me! Even a simple fuck would have seemed deliciously novel. And any more daring twist would have been heavenly, a divine inspiration. Anything but that same old routine blow-job! Even the world's champion cocksucker needed a change of pace now and then. There were moments when I seriously considered picking up some hunk of muscle – an unknown quantity, please? – from the nearest neighborhood bar. Only it would be just my luck to lick my juicy lips at the wrong time and wind up with another mouthful of cock. On my knees in some dark hallway, like as not. I wouldn't dare bring such a prospect home with me. A rich man's mistress? That dark hallway would be the lesser risk. Just something to alleviate the boredom…

***

Funny. What if I'd gone out that night? I might have, except for the weather – a last glance from my front room window catching the flash of fat silver raindrops reflected in the headlight beams of a slowly moving taxi. The evening mist had turned to rain. And I was all dressed, too, about to seek the beery conviviality of some nearby pub. I just didn't want to be alone. My latest visit from Simon had left me in sad shape, frustrated and feeling sorry for myself. Ready to give the local boys a break. If only it hadn't been raining out there! Not hard yet, just heavy enough to make my first such venture a washout. Who goes bar-hopping in messy weather? Just drunks and punks – and maybe a few stray chippies taking care of business. Mighty slim pickings for an honest woman with horny ideas. Anyway, that was my excuse for staying in. The safest place to be on a night like this. Especially for a waif like me, a born target for trouble.