Why the hell did she have to say she wanted the experience? She’s better than that. She doesn’t need to trade with me. The experience is for women who need it. That woman… she doesn’t need it. She deserves better.

I won’t do it, I decide. I’ll only see her if she really wants to see me. This isn’t a job. This isn’t negotiable. I want her, but not as a fucking commodity.

I’m not going to sit back and wait on her, though. She’s tempting, but that’s about it. I’ve been out with every woman there is. Every type, every body shape, and practically every age all the way down to twenty. I have to ask myself, “Is she really that special?” Well, the answer I get to is “probably not.”

Still, when I wake up, I’m thick and hard. I roll over and laugh at myself. No woman to fuck and I’m the prime cut of this city. I walk to my shower and turn it on, waiting for the water to heat up. I’m horny as fuck. Remembering how she looked at the party turns me on to no end. I should have bent her over in that bathroom. I should have made her understand just what kind of a man I really am.

I should have given her a taste of heaven, handed her her wildest dreams, and made her fucking toes curl.

I spit down against my cock. My body feels strong and young. Even at twenty-eight, I haven’t started aging. I take pride in how I look and feel. Yet, that woman barely even recognizes what kind of a prize I am.

I run my hands down and feel the hot water drip down my body. I imagine picking her up in front of me. I see and feel her legs wrap around my neck as her back is pressed hard against the wall. I can taste her as my tongue slides against every single fold. She tastes sweet in this fantasy of mine, but part of me wonders if it’s more like chocolate, like the way she smells.

I start stroking my cock faster, imagining her now, on her knees, spreading her cheeks apart. I love a woman who knows how to treat a man. I can imagine how kinky she gets, begging me to spank her creamy ass. I wonder how deep she likes it. Can she take every inch of me? Can she take a little choking? Will she press my hands down further?

I want to dive in her tits. I want her nipples to drag across my face, until they land perfectly in my mouth, for me to suck on. I want to worship that body of hers, to fall on my knees while she rides me close, whispering, “Cum inside me.”

I stroke faster and faster, wrapping my hand around my shaft. My head is slick and growing. I’m going to fucking cum. I nearly lose my balance as I shoot my load down the drain. Such a fucking waste. When it’s over, I’m left feeling empty. There’s no one to kiss. There’s no one to drink with or talk to. It’s just my empty fucking house. And me. How boring.

I go about my day, which consists of me getting drunk on the finest champagne. Ultimately, it gives me nothing. I have over a handful of calls, but I don’t answer any of the numbers I know. I’m waiting for one in particular, but she’s not calling today.

I wait until nightfall to realize that I’m shit out of luck. She’s playing the game harder than any woman I’ve met before. Does she not care about my charm? Didn’t she see those women laughing at my jokes, enamored with every story I told?

I get one phone call from an unknown number and I answer it. “Walker?” a deep voice asks into the receiver. It’s a man’s voice and I recognize it immediately. Hawkins.

“Hawk?” I ask. “Is that you?”

“I knew I’d find you sooner or later. You’ve been running from us for years,” he says. I can picture the ugly smile on his face, the scar that runs down the front, and the eerie hunch in his back as he tries to stand on his own two feet.

“It’s not like I’ve been trying to evade you,” I say.

“On the contrary,” he laughs. “You’ve done a real bang up job doing so. Tell me, how many years has it been?”

“Eight years,” I say. “How’d you find me?”

“Are you really that impressed? You know how we run things. You know we run a tight ship over here,” he says. The bastard’s got me. “Don’t worry. I don’t want anything from you. I’m just… catching up.”

“Catching up,” I repeat. I can’t laugh. Hawkins is the guy who got me started in this business. His agency is the reason why I’m over here, but I fled once I got a good return.

“You should have changed your name,” he laughs again. “It’s almost as if you’ve been waiting for me. How much have you been making over there, anyway?”

“Pennies on the dollar,” I lie. “And I did change my name. On the leases anyway.”

“Stop worrying. This is just a friend trying to catch up with another old friend. I’m proud of you, Walker,” he says.

“Thanks,” I mutter. My heart starts pounding. Will I have to leave this place? Will I have to squander everything I’ve fought so hard to achieve?

“I’ll let you go. I know how busy you are,” he says.

“Talk to you soon,” I say, knowing he’s going to be around, sooner or later.

“Perhaps. Or not, you never know with these things, do you?” There’s a sudden pause because I have really nothing to say. I owe him for more money than he’s letting on and he can sense my sudden fear, although I’m not running anytime soon.

“I guess not,” I simply say.

“Goodbye, Walker,” he hangs up the phone.