She originally considered a career in sports medicine, and then majored in art therapy in college. Or is jumping on the proverbial log? Weekly doctor visit. At least I get to wear real clothes and a comfortable bra, not the boned thing that shoves boobs up to my chin. Last night was long and tedious; full hooker gear until four a. Shiny pink stilettos are calf-killers. Coffee at bar with girls. Window shoppers will start around noon. Had him jerk himself to finish in time.
She was pissed he got cum in her hair and she missed next line-up. Shortest booking in history. Got doctor money and a bit extra from bartender. Not being allowed to have cash in-house just sucks. Phone call from regular who will stop in over weekend. Reminds me, need more lube. Every visit same thing, same talk, always minute booking. Good money. Show Time! Two line-ups already. Doorbell just rang again so about three minutes before the Avon Calling line-up bell.
Bunch of jerks just came and went. Once, just once, I wish we could make them line up so we could point and giggle like they do. Feet hurt. Booked three, changed clothes twice, brushed teeth four times. Noshed on London Broil sandwich.
Glad we have a swing-shift bartender who can actually cook. Sex makes you hungry. Caught one more for the night. Repeat customer who likes to hog-tie me. First two visits, I charged him a double-rate so that another girl, Bella, could be in the room with us for safety. Strips me down with fake roughness, puts me face-down on bed.
Restrains and gags me, not too tightly, with torn strips of sheets, ankles fastened to wrists. It comes in handy. He sits in a chair across the room, naked, jerking off, while I struggle and moan. Thirty minutes all-in, if that. A towel he puts on floor in front of him ensures no sticky clean up. Washes himself, unties me, asks if he tied too tightly. He never does. Four or five months he needs another fix. Nearly bedtime. Clothes can stay on the floor tonight. Love my down comforter.
