I’m standing outside my little boutique in this posh neighborhood. He’s late. Supposed to pick me up in some garage loaner car after dropping his off. Sky’s darkening, wind picking up. I check my phone—no call back. Left two voicemails. Streetlights flicker on. Dressed sexy for our night out: tight dress hugging my curves, cleavage teasing just right. Classy, but fuck, it draws eyes.
Cars slow as they pass. Single guys behind the wheel, staring. I glance, hoping it’s him. Not yet. Heart ticks faster. Night deepens. First raindrop hits my shoulder. No umbrella. Pace back and forth, heels clicking. Feel exposed. Ridiculous. Like one of those hookers down the next boulevard, five hundred meters away. But hotter. Wetter.
The Awakening
Wind chills my thighs. Cars crawl by, headlights cutting rain. More looks. Bold ones. I sway my hips a bit. Testing. Fuck, it sends a shiver straight to my pussy. Imagine it: trading body for cash. Primal deal. Power in the price. My game—always haggling margins in the shop. Why not this? Excitement builds. Nipples harden under wet fabric. What if I lean into it? Just for kicks. No one’s watching. Except everyone.
Berline pulls up. Stops right beside me. I bend to the window, rain pelting my back. Glass lowers. Stranger inside. Mid-forties, suit rumpled. Eyes devour me—lips, tits, dripping dress clinging to skin. Warm air from the car hits my face. Shelter. I lean closer, cleavage spilling forward. Smile. Pulse races. ‘Evening?’
He hesitates. Licks his lips. ‘How much?’
The Act and the Secret
Boom. Blood rushes south. Pussy throbs. This is it. The edge. Humiliation or high? I could laugh it off. But no. Thrill grips me. Mouth dry, but words spill. ‘Three hundred euros for a blowjob. Five hundred for a full fuck.’ Voice husky. Real. Tongue flicks my lips. Taste rain. Imagine his cock sliding in, hot, thick. Salty cum down my throat. Or him pounding me in the back seat, skirt hiked, legs spread. Raw. Dirty. Cash in hand after.
He stares. Mouth to nipples. Back to eyes. Breath catches. Fingers grip door handle. World narrows. Rain hammers. He’s gonna say yes. Door opens? No. Laughter erupts. ‘Fucking joke! Find another mark!’ Window up. Tires screech. Gone into the night.
Rain soaks me through. Mouth agape under the streetlamp. Arms limp. Humiliated. Soaked slut rejected. Price too low? Should’ve said a grand. Stunned. But fuck—body buzzes. Pussy slick, not just from rain. Nipples ache. Adrenaline floods. I did it. Quoted my holes like merchandise. Lived the taboo. No one knows. My dirty secret. Back to normal life tomorrow—shop, ledgers, him. But this? Mine. The rush of almost selling out. Craving more. Fingers itch for my clit tonight, reliving it. Transgression tastes so fucking good.