Desperation

Aaron had flown all the way up to New York, and emptied his most recent check into the account of Meadow Rain. He knocked on the door to the hotel room tentatively, and his goddess opened the door.

"Hey .... Aaron," she said distractedly, texting with Black men on her phone. He reveled at all the tattoos, all with one common message: Black supremacy. "So what do you want? A handy? A blowjob? Only Black men get this pussy, but you know that."

Aaron shook his head emphatically. Meadow crooked her head, curious.

"Then what do you want?" she asked.

"A ... kiss," Aaron croaked. "Feet. I want to worship you. I want you to own me. I want you to deny me. I want everyone to know you fuck around. That we don't fuck. I want it all, and I want none of it."

"Well ..." Meadow said. "You're a fucked up set of contradictions, darling. You can kiss my feet tonight, for the hour you've paid for. And we'll go from there. I like hopeless perverts."