Laura Meets Jeffrey Read Online Free Page B

gigantic. I couldn’t even imagine it.
    â€œWe made it to California and our friends gave us enough money to get back home.
    â€œSo then I said, ‘Okay, how are we going to get out of debt?’
    â€œSandy said, ‘Well, you’re fucking guys all the time anyway, why don’t you go work in a whorehouse?’
    â€œI thought that being a whore held a certain nobility,” Laura acknowledges, “and I thought I just had to pay back that $10,000. I knew Sandy could never pay it back, so that was my goal.
    â€œSo Sandy set up an appointment for me at a whorehouse in New York City that he went to all the time—I found out later—and he took me there and dropped me off. They were waiting for me, they liked the way I looked and gave me a job right away.
    â€œI mean, I was already having great sex with lots of guys. The idea of charging for sex seemed completely absurd, and when I was in the whorehouse, most of the men, I made them make me have an orgasm, ha, ha, ha.
    â€œI was like, ‘Wait, wait, I’m not done. Let’s keep going….’”
    Most hookers don’t have orgasms with their clients. Some occasionally do. I’ve spoken to many hookers and the truth is that most get as emotionally involved in the fuck as a mechanic does driving home lug nuts with his Snap-On pneumatic impact wrench. It’s just a job, man.
    Many fake it, and if they’re good whores, the kind that care about their industry’s reputation for quality and service, they fake it with every client because that’s what most guys’ egos need. It’s part of the show.
    It’s hard to tell the real from the fake. The CIA, Mossad and the KGB, with all their resources and black-ops, working for decades in conjunction with the finest doctors in the world, some of them ex-Nazis who were working on the problem for Hitler, have been unsuccessful in ferreting out a litmus test for fake orgasms, so don’t feel bad if you can’t tell.
    There are some, like Laura’s—so blinding, so huge, so spastic—they must be authentic. I know her orgasm is real.
    The knock again, this time louder. I hold her tight so she can’t move. The stronger I hold her the less resistance she offers. Until she turns her head toward me and says, “I’m sorry I have to leave. I have a regular waiting for me.”
    I watch Laura put on her pink negligee and fix the ribbons in her hair. “I’ll be right back,” she says, “Let me get him settled.”
    I stand at the door with it cracked open and hear her down the hall say, “Hello Rob” to her waiting customer. I am wounded. Then it all comes into perspective. I just had this blinding sexual and emotional experience with a hooker but the bottom line is that she’s a hooker and it is her job to give me a blinding sexual experience so I must leave my emotions in the room and go back to my life.
    I get dressed. She returns and I give her a $50 tip, twice what’s expected and say thanks. She doesn’t look at the money, kisses my cheek, then slowly and tenderly my lips, and then she disappears.
    I procrastinate. I don’t want to leave our scent. I can still taste her, sweet with an accent of umami. I’d never tasted a sweet and umami pussy before. Umami means savory. It’s the full-flavor taste we get from things like Parmesan cheese, mushrooms and red wine. It’s the fifth basic taste, added by the Japanese about fifty years ago to the other four: sweet, sour, salty and bitter. It’s said the reason Coca Cola and ketchup are universally loved is that they contain all five flavors.
    I like women who taste sweet. Some are salty, which I don’t prefer, and some are sour or bitter, which I don’t like. There are variations in receptors and preferences. A woman I taste as sweet might be bitter to another man. Or maybe he likes one I taste as bitter.
    Laura has the bottom