I need to reiterate.

 I'm not here to provide fantasy. Reality is a splash of cold water. This is how I pick up hookers. This is also a glimpse into their damaged and uncontrolled lives. The poor have no safety nets. Getting out of poverty is even more difficult when faced with drug addiction. Half of me thinks I take advantage of their plight, knowing they will fuck for money out of desperation. The other half of me knows that they will also try any tactic to get money from me, knowing they will probably succeed. Sex is not their only option. 

I got a call this morning from Justice. She was stuck in some hick town forty minutes away. I told her I'd be there in an hour. She told me some guy out there wanted a date. After the deed, he pulled a gun on her. He took his money back, and shoved her out of his car. She's lucky to be alive. I believe what she tells me. She didn't call the cops. She has a warrant for some dumb court thing she won't resolve. So, she didn't want to report the crime out of fear of being arrested herself. I showed up at a convenience store, and she was inside waiting with a coffee I had to pay for her.

She slept the whole way home. She asked for twenty dollars. She saw I had forty and asked for that. I gave her just the twenty. If she pressed for forty, I would have made her fuck me for it, but then she would have demanded eighty. I didn't want to fuck her. You may think she was traumatized, but only because you don't understand that lifestyle. These women disregard the past, and only focus on the here and now. She needs money. She needs drugs. She would have fucked me for it. They bury trauma. I like girls in skirts and dresses. She gave me a chub. I had to fight that urge, even considering she's dirty. She took the twenty, gave me a kiss, said thanks and went home. I headed to work.