once there was a whore (2)

She did not like flashy gifts. It was always hard cash, which she put away in the bank. She explained that she would not be beautiful forever, and when she settled down, she would need the money. If a client were especially generous, she would allow an afternoon at the spa and salon, or membership at a gym. The client would then be rewarded with a special night with the fresh and revitalized Jane.

Jane was especially fond of an aging congressman who wanted to give her a car and was persuaded to convert it to cash. He had considerably fattened her bank account. Jane indulged herself with a weekend in Boracay and caught herself three ‘big fishes’ in the bargain.

She was bright and funny. I went to see her often, sometimes just to share a drink at the bar, sometimes to bring her back to the pad. Jane always looked ready to have an orgasm when she saw me, but then perhaps she could do that to a dozen other men.

One night, several months after we met, I asked her why she wouldn’t marry. “There must be men who have offered you marriage,” I said.
She looked at me with tired, sad eyes. They were eyes that had known a thousand rejections.
“In the real world, Mike, girls like me get fucked. Then the men leave. I can’t dream of loving men like you.” But I could see that she did want to dream.
“Don’t you love me?” I asked.
“Of course I love you,” she teased. “You pay well.”
“Then why can’t you live with me?”
“Because then I wouldn’t be able to earn, and you won’t pay me anymore.”
“You can afford to do that for a while. Remember your fat bank account?”
She looked at me. “Why would you want me here?”
I said, half jokingly, “So you could cook me dinner and I could be your dessert.”

To my complete surprise, she said, “I would like that.”