The Afternoon I Pretended to Be a Whore

I hated having to let loose the beast inside me. As a lawyer, I preferred to close deals fast and clean, because that was best for all parties. But some jerk always showed up who didn’t see it that way. They didn’t understand that when you hold the winning cards, you can push hard, and when you don’t, the smart move is to negotiate.

That afternoon, the other side’s lawyer got stupid and I had no choice but to make him look ridiculous in front of his own clients. The merger got signed anyway, but only after I’d brought out my fiercest side. I didn’t like ending up like that. Well, yes, I did like it, and that was exactly the problem.

With my pulse still racing, I drove out of the parking lot. I put on some low music and tried to breathe while I looked for the exit from that huge industrial estate where my client’s company was located.

My phone vibrated with a message. I glanced at it without touching it and thought I recognized the other lawyer’s name. My rage shot up my throat in one go. I drove a little farther, looking for somewhere to pull over and read it properly.

This wasn’t the best part of the estate. It was already dark, and in the distance I could make out silhouettes of women leaning against cars, offering their charms to the highest bidder. Prostitution didn’t bother me in the slightest, except for the pimps. It was the world’s oldest profession and it would still exist when I was nothing more than a name on a gravestone. I found a space, braked, and grabbed the phone.

Sure enough, it was that idiot lawyer, hurt by the dressing-down I’d given him. I read his messages while weighing up whether it was worth reporting him to the bar association for threats, all the while the tension kept climbing through me. I didn’t feel like spending an hour texting with such a moron, but it took me a hell of a lot to let a fight slide.

I was in the middle of that when a car braked beside me. The driver lowered his window and motioned for me to lower mine. Distracted as I was, without thinking too much, I lowered it.

—Hi, pretty girl, how are you? —he asked—. How much for a blowjob?

It took me half a second to understand the scene. I was parked right in the girls’ area, I was a new face, and that was why he was interested. Part of me felt slightly flattered. I was thirty-seven, I knew I was intelligent, but being valued only for my face still felt good, even if it was to mistake me for a whore.

—Sorry, baby —I said, slipping into the role before I could stop myself—. I’m not on duty, and besides, you couldn’t afford my services.

—Come on, miss, don’t be like that. Thirty?

—Forget it. Today isn’t your lucky day —I replied, raising the window.

The car pulled away and, as it got farther off, a hand came out of the window with the middle finger raised. It made me smile. A hundred meters farther on his brake lights came on and one of the girls leaned on his window. I watched the negotiation absentmindedly. Soon after, she went around the car, got into the passenger seat, and they drove off, I suppose to somewhere quieter.

I looked back at the phone. I had my finger on the send key when, again, a vehicle braked beside me. I was about to ignore it, but curiosity won out. It wasn’t a car: it was a white van. Since it was higher than my car, I could barely see the driver. A man in his fifties, with the look of a decent guy. A decent guy to go whoring around with, I thought with a certain malice.

He lowered the passenger window and waited for me to do the same. I hesitated for a moment, but the guy seemed harmless and curiosity took the wheel again. I rolled the glass down.

—Hello, good afternoon —he said kindly.

—Good afternoon, sir —I answered with a touch of sarcasm—. How can I help you?

—Well... —he stammered, suddenly shy in the face of my attitude.

—Let me help you —I said. I was starting to enjoy myself, so I dug through my memory for every movie dialogue I could remember—. Would you like to have a good time?

—Yes, of course, miss —he answered, embarrassed—. That’s exactly it.

—And what did you have in mind?

—Well, I don’t know, maybe you could... —he looked so nervous I almost felt sorry for him— masturbate me?

—Mmmm, I’d love that, but wouldn’t you prefer a good blowjob? —I was surprising myself with my own words.

—Of course, of course, miss, if it’s not too much trouble.

—It’s no trouble at all, sir. But you do know this has a price, right?

—Of course, of course. I usually pay your colleague, the one over there, thirty euros. What do you think?

—Sir, your colleague is your colleague, but I think I deserve at least fifty. You’ll never have had anything like it —I couldn’t believe I was haggling like a street pro. If the guy said yes, what the hell was I going to do?

—You’re very pretty. I think you’re worth those fifty. All right?

Shit! What have I done?, I thought. And yet I knew that feeling desired for my body had always pleased me. Yes, he was objectifying me. But I spent the whole day using only my intellect and sometimes I forgot I was a woman, and also that I was hot. So, astonished by my own cheek, I kept going.

—Come on, you’re going to have a great time —I said, opening my car door.

I locked it. For a second I wondered whether I was making a huge mess of things or only a small one, but I opened the passenger door and sat down beside my first client.

—Hi, my name’s Quique —he said as he started the engine.

—I’m Brenda —I smiled to myself. Brenda was my enemy from school, and I always thought it was a whore’s name. Turns out I was right.

He was a veteran of the place: he didn’t hesitate for a second about where to go. When we turned a corner we ran into the idiot from before; he looked at me with an annoyed face, and beside him the girl he’d picked up was stuffing the money into her bra. Quique drove a little farther and stopped by a wall. I looked out the window: there was no doubt this was the usual spot, because the ground was littered with used condoms.

He switched off the engine and turned to me. A voice inside my head whispered: come on, prove you can do it.

—So, Quique, are you going to show me what you’ve got hidden in there?

—Yes, yes —he said.

He unbuckled his seat belt, opened his pants, and dragged them down to his calves. He was wearing old-fashioned white briefs with a yellowish stain at the front. A stab of disgust hit me, but acting like a slut also turned me on. I reached out and stroked the fabric right over the yellow patch. I squeezed a little and the thing began to stiffen. I could already make out the shape of his cock with my fingers, and the truth was it wasn’t small.

—Quique, why don’t you take off your briefs, darling?

—Of course, of course —he said, and lifting his ass, he dragged them down to his ankles.

There it was. That was when I got nervous. To buy time and sort out my thoughts, I ran my hand slowly over his member. Between Quique’s belly —not huge, but enough for a proper spare tire— and the steering wheel, I doubted I’d be able to fit my head in there. His cock, though, was the most attractive thing about him: long, not too thick, with a pretty pink head.

—Handsome, can you tilt the seat back a little? —I asked—. That way we’ll be more comfortable.

—The seat’s broken and it won’t move —he replied. Look at that, for bad news he doesn’t repeat himself, I thought with sarcasm.

While my hand kept caressing him, I took a look at the back of the van. It didn’t look dirty, and on the floor there were blankets like the ones used to keep cargo from getting damaged.

—Today is your lucky day —I said—. Go to the back and lie down, I’m going to leave you like new.

He didn’t say anything. He looked at me with half a smile and tried to squeeze through the gap between the seats, but the pants and briefs around his ankles got in the way. He made a couple of comic attempts until, with two kicks, he got his shoes and the rest of his clothes off. At last he managed to get to the back. I had a close-up of his white ass right in front of my face. What am I doing here?, the sensible part of me protested. But the other part, the little devil, slapped his cheek and followed him.

Quique smoothed out the blankets and lay down. It was a strange sight: a naked man from the waist down, hands at his sides, waiting. There was no turning back now. I looked for the best position to “work.” There was barely any space, so I knelt beside him, facing his feet. That way my ass ended up at head height, which worried me a bit. But what the hell, I know I have a good ass, and tightly packed in my pants it must have offered him a gorgeous view.

—Are you comfortable? —I asked with irony. Suddenly it hit me: what kind of idiot whore doesn’t carry a condom? I always had several in my car in case a quick fuck happened, but now I wasn’t in my car—. Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have a condom in here, would you? I left mine in my car.

—Well, no —he answered worriedly—. That’s normally your job, isn’t it? Sorry.

There was an opening there to run, and I admit I was almost tempted to take it. But I admitted to myself that doing whore for a while was insanely hot. It was fun to run the scene, to feel powerful, and very deep down I got off on feeling dirty.

—Well, congratulations. Close your eyes and enjoy it.

I positioned his cock pointing at the ceiling, bent over at the waist, and took it into my mouth. I had two immediate thoughts. The first: in that position, with my ass stuck out, I could feel my pants pulled ridiculously tight. The second: it had been a long time since I’d had a cock in my mouth and, God, what pleasure. Quique’s was big enough to work over with my tongue without being uncomfortable. And against all my fears, it was clean.

I focused more on enjoying his soft skin against my lips than on what he might be feeling, though his sighs said he was enjoying it just as much. Suddenly I felt his hand running over my ass. His fingers slid softly over my cheeks, a pleasant caress that, added to the taste in my mouth, made me unexpectedly wet between the legs. I shivered in silence.

When he got tired of my ass, he tried to slip his hand between my thighs, but I squeezed my legs together. I didn’t want him to notice how much I was enjoying it: after all, I was supposed to be a professional. He gave up and went back to stroking me through my pants. I felt a warm liquid beginning to well at the tip of his glans, but I still didn’t want him to come, so I pulled him out of my mouth and straightened up.

—How’s it going? —I asked. A thread of saliva was running down my chin and I wiped it away with the back of my hand—. Is the gentleman enjoying himself?

—Brenda, Brenda —he said passionately, his eyes still closed—. I’ve never met a girl like you. Every week, after I finish my deliveries in this area, I stop for a bit, but it’s never been like this.

—Of course you’ve never met a girl like me, because there isn’t another one like me —I whispered—. I’m expensive, but I’m the best.

—Yes, you are. Honestly, you’re fantastic!

At those words I bent down again and started licking it like it was an ice cream, top to bottom, feeling every vein against the tip of my tongue. Slowly, unhurriedly, leaving a single millimeter unexplored. On impulse, I gave his testicles a couple of licks. I had never done that with any of my lovers, but then I had never enjoyed a blowjob so much. The texture was different, rough from the hair. I thought it was filthy and, even so, I loved it.

I was focused on that delicious moment when Quique got tired of my ass and turned his attention to my breasts. You’ll have more luck there, you bastard, I thought as I felt his fingers on my shirt, tracing the edge of my bra. With surprising skill, he unbuttoned a couple of buttons and slid his hand inside. His fingers closed gently over my breast, over the fabric. My nipples were hard, but he didn’t dare to pull my bra down.

I admitted that I wanted to feel his warm hand directly on my skin, so I sat up again.

—You’re a very bad boy —I said, undoing my bra behind my back. I couldn’t take it off because of my shirt, but I was giving him free access.

I looked him in the eyes: he had the face of someone living through something so good he couldn’t believe it. I winked at him and took him back into my mouth. When his hand slipped under my shirt again and caught my bare breast, a loud moan escaped me. He stroked my nipples, squeezing them without much force. For a moment I wanted his tongue on them, but that would be too much... or would it?

I tried to stretch my pleasure as long as possible, but his breathing was getting faster and the liquid was becoming plentiful.

—I think, I think I’m going to come —he warned. He repeats himself even for this, I thought.

I suppose that was an invitation to move away, since there was no condom in play. But I didn’t feel like it at all. I ignored all caution and braced myself. The first contraction caught me by surprise and I nearly choked, but the ones after that were delicious. I closed my lips hard so not a drop escaped, and when he was done I squeezed him with my hand. It had a slightly sour taste, but not unpleasant at all.

His hand was already resting loose at his side. Trying not to show how much I’d enjoyed it, I sat up and knelt again. I decided to give him one last treat: looking him in the eyes, I swallowed everything. I picked up a stubborn drop with my finger and, licking it off, said:

—I think that’s everything, right?

He was still lying there, eyes closed, breathing deeply.

—It was fantastic, fantastic —he said, his voice full of emotion—. You’re the best girl I’ve ever had, Brenda.

—Thank you very much, although I already knew that —I replied, pretending to be funny—. And now, if you don’t mind, we should go back to my car.

—Yes, of course, of course. You must have lots of clients waiting.

—You have no idea —I said, fastening my bra and buttoning my shirt.

I slid back into the passenger seat. Quique gathered his clothes, wrestled with them for a bit, and soon enough he was sitting beside me, starting the van. We drove back out to the street toward my car. During the trip he kept sneaking furtive glances at me; he felt like the luckiest man in the world. In less than a minute we were braked beside my vehicle.

—Well, sir —I said, turning to him—, I hope you enjoyed yourself.

—Not just well, much better. And besides, for a whore, you behave like a real lady.

Him calling me a whore stirred something in me I couldn’t quite identify: whether I was offended, humiliated, or thrilled.

—That’s the secret of my success —I laughed—. Well, see you around.

I opened the door, but before I could get out he stopped me.

—Excuse me...

—Yes?

—I haven’t paid you yet. —Damn it, if I’m a whore, I’m the dumbest one in the world.

—Of course, a lady doesn’t ask for the money: it’s given to her —I said smoothly.

—There you go —he said, pulling out his wallet—. These are the agreed fifty, and here are twenty more for being a lady.

—Thank you, handsome.

—Hey, will you be around here more often?

—I don’t know. If you see me one day, that means yes.

Like I’d seen the other girl do a little while earlier, I tucked the bills into my bra. And now yes, I jumped out of the van and closed the door. Quique waved goodbye and drove off. As I watched him go, my legs were trembling with nerves and, I suppose, excitement.

***

I was looking for my keys when a hand with very long nails rested beside my door. I nearly jumped out of my skin. I turned slowly and found myself facing a very tall woman, dark-skinned, with heavily made-up slanted eyes, staring at me with a hostile expression. She came closer until my face was almost pressed against her chest; she towered over me by a good eight inches. Something brushed my waist. I looked down and saw a huge half-erect cock slipping out of a black sequined thong. Well, damn, I thought. What was in front of me was not an imposing woman, but an imposing trans woman.

Instinctively I leaned back, pressing myself against the car.

—You, who the fuck are you? —she asked in a deep, forceful voice.

—Nobody you need to worry about —I replied in my best negotiator tone, gathering all my nerve so it wouldn’t show that I was scared shitless—. And, if you’ll allow me, I was just leaving.

—You’re not leaving here until I say so —she threatened—. I’m Yamila, this is our street, and nobody works here without our permission.

My analytical mind was searching for the best way out of the mess. I had a gigantic trans woman about to smash my face in for stealing her clients.

—Look, Yamila, I’m going to explain it to you, see if you believe me —I took a breath and launched in—. I’m a lawyer. I came out of a shit meeting furious as hell. The idiot from the other side wrote to me and I stopped to answer him. My blood pressure was through the roof. A guy offered me money for a blowjob, I told him to get lost, and one of your colleagues took him. When I was thinking of leaving, another one braked and I challenged myself to act like a whore for the first time in my life. Why? Because I felt like it. I got into his van, sucked him off for fifty euros, he gave me twenty in tip, and if you let me, now I want to go home.

It all came out in one go, defiant. I trusted she’d understand I wasn’t easy to intimidate.

She looked at me for a long while, hesitating. In the end, her generous mouth widened into a smile.

—You’re fucking crazy, girl —she laughed out loud—. Well, welcome to the club. I guess now you’re as much of a whore as I am. Nobody’s going to believe it when I tell the others. Give me your phone, come on.

The tension broke. I unlocked my phone and handed it over. With her kilometer-long nails she typed for a moment and gave it back. She’d saved herself under the name “Yamila Goddess.”

—Here’s my number —she said—. You’re crazy, but I like you. When you want to work again, call me first and we’ll avoid problems.

—Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll be back. I’ve already done the experiment, and once is more than enough for me.

—Look, honey, in this line of work you learn to read people, and you’re crazy and you live too tense. Pretty soon you’ll be at home, remembering this afternoon, and you’ll think: “what if I do it one more time?” Then you call me and I’ll tell you whether you can come, all right?

—Ah —I smiled—, so you’ll be my pimp?

—No, baby, there are no pimps here. There was one, and I took care of him. I’ll be your adviser. Here we protect each other or we’re done for, understand?

—I guess you’re right —I yielded to her logic.

—Come on, lawyer —she said, turning away—. Get yourself home. You’ll be back.

I got into the car turning her words over in my head. And, after thinking about it, I had to admit it wasn’t impossible that someday, at home, I’d remember this moment and want to repeat it. For now I wouldn’t delete her number, though I would take out the word “goddess” to avoid trouble. I started the engine and drove off slowly.

I pulled up alongside her and lowered the window. She turned, surprised. She was so tall that her cock was right at window level, like a drive-through. Without saying anything, with one hand I took the money out of my bra, and with the other I moved her member aside, slid the seventy euros in, and put it back where it belonged. I accelerated and, sticking my hand out the window, said goodbye. In the mirror I saw her smile, and on her lips I read: “you’re fucking crazy.”