Girls Read Free Page A

line for a bus and she needed information. You look up at her, one of your ape fingers still inside her. And she says, “If you want to fuck me you should do it now — you only have fifteen minutes left.” You can’t believe it. You can’t believe you have been doing what you have been doing for forty-five minutes. You feel like you have only just begun. And you find yourself wondering how she has been keeping track of time.
    You don’t really want to stop what you’ve been doing but you feel that you should, that you didn’t pay to make her feel good, that you should get what you actually paid for. You only have to make a slight motion towards flipping her over and she is immediately on her hands and knees, thrusting her shoulder blades and her ass in the air, keeping her belly low. As you go to put yourself inside her from behind, you follow the curved groove of her sunken spine with your eyes down to the small of her back where it ends in a tiny, flat V of skin rising up like an arrowhead, its sides carved out by the two hemispheres that began sloping up at her hips, its point the beginning of the cleft of her ass — small, round, taut as a balloon — and again you are overcome by the urge to put her in your mouth. Without realizing what you are doing you find yourself licking her asshole. Tomorrow, on the plane, as you think back over the experience, as you try to reconstruct every detail, you will suddenly remember your body did this, and you will wonder where you were when it happened. There and then, on the plane, as the stewardess asks you if you want beef or chicken, the thought of it will make you ill. But here and now, in your hotel room, this thing you would never do makes you want to cum. You push yourself inside her, grab her waist with your hands, your hands that almost encompass her waist in their grip, and thrust in and out of her. The tip of your cock pushes against the roof of her uterus and every time it does she lets out a little squeal. You can’t tell if it’s from pain or pleasure but you think it’s probably both. You worry a little bit about breaking her, about crushing her rib cage as you squeeze her little breasts that feel as firm as oranges, about snapping her arm as you pull her back onto you, about suffocating her when — after just five or six strokes — you cum and collapse on top of her.
    But she is fine. She lets you lie on top of her for a second, carefully pulls you out of her making sure the condom stays in place, wipes her hand on the sheets, and squirms out from under you. You cannot move. You watch her dress. She disappears into the bathroom for a minute to fix her hair and makeup but it doesn’t take long and when she is done, when you still haven’t moved, she says, “I have to go.”
    You pull yourself up from the bed, out from under the enormous weight crushing you to the bed, and, in a daze, give her her cash. It’s less than a quarter of what you had in your wallet for just one day’s expenses.
    She takes it without ceremony and puts it in her purse. You are still naked. At the door, after she’s opened it a crack, she turns and says, “I’m sorry I reminded you about time — they always do what you did and forget about time and then get mad when they find out time is gone.”
    “Oh don’t worry about it!” you say congenially, you say wanting her to know you’re not the same as the other men, that you’d never get mad. She just nods and says, “If you want me again, ask for Jin,” and is gone.
    When you get back in bed you wish you felt worse about this. You wish you felt terrible, in fact. But you don’t. Instead you feel fucking fantastic. Reborn. Your head is clear, you can actually feel the sheets touching your entire body.
    As you drift off to sleep you realize the concierge hadn’t misunderstood, hadn’t made a mistake at all. This must have been what Saswat was talking about. The best fucking hookers. The two older men simply knew what