Sell Her To A Pimp

A few days later while you were alone in your home, you pulled up the list of names that Doe provided you. When you'd first pulled it up, you'd had to stop for a moment just from the sheer shock of it all. There must have been a hundred different names with contract numbers and short descriptions. She'd really done her homework. A few of them even had reviews next to them, seemingly taken from other women who had sold themselves for limited amounts of time.

But, now you were looking with a genuinely analytic eye. You followed link after link, description after description weighing their pros and cons. The longer you did it, the more you were able to considering it the way you might a financial transaction. Though, even the thought of how mundane your analysis had become had a strange tingle to it. The mere thought made Doe into a commodity.

You click on the bio of a man named Mark Wallows on the doc. There was a brief explanation of the fact that he was a middle tier pimp whose most notable attribute was his higher then average degree of tech savvy. You put your hand to your chin as you looked at it.

But, as you considered it, a mental image came to you. Doe, prim and proper Doe, dressed in a short skirt and mesh standing on a street corner. Her normally impeccably done honey hair disheveled from recent use. Eyes scanning the horizon for other customers who would fuck her senseless and then not even pay her directly for it. It was visceral.

You started to stir. Maybe paying this Mark Wallows a visit wouldn't be a bad idea.

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