The guy lived on a tree-lined side street in a nice part of Chicago. He lived in a penthouse that took up the whole third floor. The first thing I noticed when we walked in was that it was obvious he didnâ€™t live alone. There were little lady touches everywhere: the ballet flats by the door, the Audrey Hepburn print on the wall, and the general Anthroplogie catalogue feel of the whole apartment. He had a female roommate at the very least but it seemed more likely she was a live-in girlfriend. I was aware that a number of the men I saw were married or otherwise attached, but it had never been so obvious. Iâ€™d never actually gone so far as to essentially intrude on another womanâ€™s home. It was awkward.
Our client handed us each an envelope, and led us to the bedroom. Natasha and I got onto the bed and started kissing. We had no chemistry and I hoped it didnâ€™t show. We undressed each other awkwardly, I retrieved the vibrator and a condom from my bag, got behind Natasha and started using the vibrator on her. My reserves of dirty talk were already failing me, and the client hadnâ€™t even pulled his dick out. I decided that oral was probably the way to go. Everyone likes watching girls go down on each other, right?
Maybe it was the lack of chemistry between Natasha and me, but I had never really noticed how ridiculous sex can be until I was performing it in front of this total stranger. There are weird positions, weird noises, and weird fluids; when you pause to think about it, sex isnâ€™t terribly sexy. Crawling around from behind Natasha to get between her legs made me feel like an awkward, anxiety-ridden virgin and Iâ€™m sure thatâ€™s exactly what I looked like.
But what was I supposed to say?
“Sorry, this isnâ€™t traumatizing or anything, itâ€™s just too awkward for me. Here is your money back, sir.”