A cheap escort

Pouring yourself champagne from the fridge and reaching for the window button your chauffeur you vaguely remember being named Chauncey interjects and protests being a cautious strait laced sort.

“With all due respect I wouldn’t do that if I were you sir, this place is a bad area and she looks like she’s seen better days if you catch my drift..”

Leering at him through the partition with the stone in your hand you fired off a snappy retort

“Oh Chauncey you and I both know I’m immune to all venereal diseases, besides you love jerking off to the sounds of me transforming and fucking people imagining it’s you!”

Your golf ball sized testicles tingled as your driver made a face of being appalled before clenching his head as homoerotic fantasies of his boss flooded his rewiring brain causing his cock to harden as his face continues softening into a devious smirk only vaguely remembering being an uptight straight man and he rolled up the partition. Rolling down the window you see that Chauncey was quite right this woman had been worn out by life. She was a short round very fat 4’11” Filipina woman with long fried bleach blonde hair and heavy caked on makeup, she deep lines in her face from a life lived rough you guessed was in her mid fifties but she was actually in her late thirties.

“Hey there sugar are… you.. look.”

Her deep raspy smoker’s drifted into silence captivated in the deep blue eyes of this very handsome wealthy stranger. You drank in her response and flashed your perfect straight phosphorus white smile.

“Sure, get in!”

The prostitute got in the cab with a little difficulty and was floored by your massive presence and the girthy snake in your shorts. You were analyzing her with significantly less admiration and awe but still a weird attraction to certain aspects. Studying her intently with your eyes while retaining a beguiling grin you take in your subject as Chauncey finds somewhere secluded for you to have your way with her. She had a massive gut that hung down like an apron smothering her mini skirt and chubby little razor burned legs with her fat feet encased in open toed stiletto heels, her arms were covered in crude home brew tattoos, her cheap C cup implants sagging on her chest slightly with a heart shaped tattoo on her right bosom with some guy named Howard’s name written on a ribbon, scars, bruises if anyone needs a reboot it’s probably her. The obese woman gulping hard and regaining her composure the sex worker leaned in seductively.

“So what were we thinking on doing?”

Casually you hand her an envelope with 5,000 dollars in it. “What does this get me?

Wide eyed and profusely sweating having lost all posterity as she counts the money in skeptic disbelief. “Um.. oh shit this is a lot of money! Whatever the fuck you want baby- hehe!”

You grin devilishly clenching the stone in your heavy rough hand keeping it out of sight of the woman “I didn’t catch your name.”

Battering her eyes and trying to be cute she replied “My name is Cinnamon Spritz.”

Narrowing your piercing blue eyes you lept into action with well thought out words “from now you won’t remember any change I do to you specifically unless I tell you to remember it afterwards, you will do everything I say and answer anything I ask with only truthful answers.”

Her eyes glazed over and she snapped out of it like a jolt into awareness. “I’m sorry Sweetie I got a little lightheaded or somethin’ did you say something?”

Excellent you thought she’s halfway home. Continuing on with your disarming smile you repeat “I asked what is your name?”

Almost puppeted spouted out her real name “Isabella Cruz”

You dialed it up “I like that, do you have any children?”

Isabella- “no”

You-“ever married?”

Isabella-“yes, once”

You quietly thought to yourself that she seemed to have warmed up and is voluntarily sharing her intimate details pressing on you asked “Let me guess,Howard? What happened with him?”

Saddened Isabella recounted “I lost my job and sank into depression and he left me for his secretary after I started drinking every night and gained weight…”

You soften into genuine empathy “Do you ever wish that you were someone else?

Isabella- “Constantly.”

Furrowing an eyebrow you press on “ah, I see. What don’t you like about your life?”

And Isabella semi-enthralled began to itemize her list from inconveniences into the gritty “… I have a fused ankle, my pimp beats me regularly and I have to work my ass off to afford my black mold studio apartment!”

You listened quietly weighing how to exponentially improve her life and give you the kinky deranged companion that you deserve. Clearing your throat after a moment of quiet consideration you made a powerful decision for her. “I wish that…