Im a prostitute. A whore. A harlot. A hooker. My profession is the oldest in the world, and it gets a bad wrap. But don’t think I’m complaining. I love my job. Here’s one of my tales. I love to share my stories. I have a ton of them.
Donnie Darko is what I call this guy. He had that semi-suicidal dark look going on. But there was so much more to him than that. Like you always knew there was so much more going on beneath the surface.
I was introduced to Darko at the party of a mutual friend. At first we made nice small talk, and it was great until he asked me what I do for a living. That can be problematic for a couple of different reasons.
When you’re a high-priced call girl, you come up with your story beforehand. Something like, today I’m a dental hygienist, and the next day you’re a paralegal, or the private maid of some distant celebrity.
Whatever you choose, it’s carefully crafted so that your chosen “careers” aren’t in mixed company. For example, if you’re at a party for dentists, you don’t go as a dental hygienist. Otherwise you might get called out on your ignorance about cavities and corroding plaque.
So when Darko asked me what I do for work, I considered my pre-configured story of being a stockbroker. We were at a benefit lunch for doctors, after all, and I figured it was a safe bet. When he started asking me which brokerage firm I worked for, I decided that JP Morgan was a safe one to BS with, as they were large enough that a random broker such as little old me would go unnoticed.
Unfortunately, his eyes lit up, and he asked the question anyone in my situation would dread. “Do you know Matt Mulroney? He’s the head of the local branch,” he answered to my blank expression.
Of course I didn’t know Matt Fucking Mulroney. Sheesh! Time to cut this one short. With a quick, pre-fabricated sneeze, I excused myself to the ladies room. Of more importance, to a less Darko place of the party.
After coming out of my haven, I perused my surroundings for another safe place. The living room’s large bar provided an excellent opportunity to grab a drink, as well as to meet an eligible lonely man in need of company. I thought I’d found it, when I successfully began chatting up a very debonair looking older gentleman.
Mr. Debonair and I had our heads together contemplating the dresses of some scantily-clad fifty-somethings, when his wife haughtily made her presence known. She then marched off towards the golf course, her husband in tow.
I stood, amusedly watching the show, when Darko found his way back to my side.
“How much you wanna bet those two will be divorced within six months?” he wagered.
His sudden reappearance startled me, but I’d easily recovered from much worse, and let out a low laugh, before taking a sip of my martini. I had been avoiding his gaze, when he moved to stand in front of me.
“So I just saw Matt, and he had nothing but good things to say about you,” he informed me casually, before grabbing my arm and waving at a blonde haired meat sack across the room.
The stranger smiled and nodded back at us.
I’m sure my eyes shot open to the size of dinner plates, and I might have choked on my drink a little before I could stop myself.
“How long have you worked on Meridian?” he asked. His eyes were very serious as he watched me and awaited my answer.
“Uh, just about six months. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go to the ladies room,” I stammered, working to make my way around him.
Unfortunately, Darko’s grip had remained on my arm, and he tightened it, barring my way.
My gaze flew to his face, indignant that he would forcibly hold me there. But also terrified that he might be the police, ready to apprehend me for my chosen profession. I’d so far avoided arrest, and thank God, had no record of prostitution. One mistake, however, could change all that, and would set me up for further run ins with the police. Not to mention, cause difficulty down the line, should I choose to switch gears.
“Relax, Jewel, I know who you are, and why you’re here,” he chuckled, lightening his hold on my arm.
I looked at him more closely. Now that I did so, I could see that he looked familiar, after all.
“I asked Haley to invite you. I wanted to see if you were available for a date,” he said, a hopeful expression on his face.
I gave him my most winning smile, and took his outstretched hand. He then guided me to the staircase that led to the upstairs bedrooms.
My friend had staged a guest rooms for exactly this situation. It was a locked room, and I just happened to have the key stuffed beneath my bra.
As soon as we entered, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in for a tight embrace, resting one hand on my breast, and the other on my hip.
“Thank you for taking time to see me,” he whispered in my ear, gripping me tighter.
I held very still while his hand explored under my shirt, and under my bra. He squeezed my breast, and lightly nibbled the side of my neck.
This was going to be interesting. If my experience as a companion taught me anything, it was that what men craved the most was human connection, and not just sex, as so many people seemed to think. Darko’s embrace told me that connection was likely a bigger need than any sexual one.
I stayed very still, absorbing him, as he felt me up. His hand on my breast was soft and warm, as he took turns caressing my nipple, and the underside of my breast. With his other hand, he fingered light circles over my hip bone. Between that, and him mouthing my neck, goose bumps were forming, and a small shiver escaped.
After several moments, he released me, and I felt him move away. He grabbed my hand, pulling me towards the bed, and I found myself seated next to him.
“Would you take your clothes off for me? I want to see what you’re like under there,” he requested.
I happily obliged, making a show of slowly removing my clothes. His hand occasionally stroked the front of his slacks, telling me he appreciated the strip tease. When I was finally completely bare, he patted the bed next to him, inviting me to rejoin him.
Once seated, he placed his hand on my thigh, his arm casually grazing my nipple. Again, his soft touch caused me to shiver.
“Sit on my lap. I want to feel you,” he instructed.
I obliged, and his arms quickly wrapped around me again.
“Mmmmmm, you’re skin is so soft. You feel so good,” he breathed in my ear.
His hands quickly found their way to my intimate places, fingering and fondling me. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the intimate feel of them.
“Her skin was even softer than yours,” Darko whispered, pulling me closer for a tighter embrace.
I knew then that this encounter would be much more about connection than about sex. And that I would be his surrogate lover.
Darko held me overly tight for several moments, before relinquishing his grip.
Finally, I moved, turning my head to look at him. What I saw was heartbreaking. This man, whose arms were still looped around my waist, looked so lost. So forlorn.
My heart went out to Darko, and I moved forward, kissing at the lone tear that made its way down his cheek. I then kissed his nose and his other cheek, before moving to tentatively kiss his lips. It was only then that he seemed to come alive, as he softly kissed me back.
Darko was slow at first, as though testing the waters. His lips softly worked mine, while his hands made lazy circles, caressing my back and then my buttocks.
But as I kissed him back, his movements became faster. More frantic. He alternated between squeezing my butt and my breasts with one hand, while gripping my loose hair with his other, holding my head in place so that he could kiss me. And kiss me he did! As though the dam holding in his passion had broken.
Darko was becoming more and more worked up, devouring me where I sat precariously in his lap. Suddenly, he lifted me, flipping me over and standing in one fluid movement.
I found myself face first on the bed, his hands pulling me by my hips toward him. There was a short pause as he removed his pants. I then heard the snick of a condom wrapper opening. I turned my head just enough to watch him roll the condom on in my periphery.
The task complete, he gripped my hips once more before entering me swiftly. He then pounded into me over and over. I shifted my hips slightly so that he hit a more pleasurable spot, and held on for the ride.
Reaching between my legs, I fondled myself, wanting to assure my continued pleasure. A sideways glance as he thrust forward told me his mind was somewhere else, his eyes closed, and his thrusts mechanical. I changed my position, reaching further back to caress his sac.
“That’s it, Jenny! Mmmmm! You always know exactly where to touch me!” Darko said, breathless, through gritted teeth. His jutting hips shot forward more violently, until with one last thrust, he went deeper, before coming to a stop resting over me.
I lowered myself slowly to the bed, Darko remaining in place, blanketing me with his body. The silence was interrupted by his quiet sobs, as he began stroking my back. I moved, dislodging him, and turned, pulling him closer to cradle him against my chest.
We lay together for what seemed like hours, Darko weeping, while I comforted him.
He made love to me, or whoever reminded him of me, several more times that afternoon. As it turns out, Jenny was his late lover who died of breast cancer the month before.
Darko contacted me several more times over the months, his emotions progressively calming with each meeting. I like to think that whoever he finds himself with, he will always remember his Jenny, but will be able to find another love as strong.