Let’s Be Honest

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
A man is seduced by a prostitute.

Submitted: January 25, 2016

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Submitted: January 25, 2016



Let’s Be Honest

By Joseph Logsdon

Clark knew that his life, the vast majority of it, had been wasted on unimportant things. He continued to watch the women dance, all manner of decency slowly leaving him. He liked the tall girl, the one that kept looking at him, teasing him with her lips, those lovely eyes and ears. He swallowed his drink with absolute bitterness, the taste most unpleasant. There seemed to be nothing he could do besides drink, stare, and enjoy all the pleasures of being truly drunk.

The room was filled with an overwhelming, not very subtle sense of self-loathing. Every man, practically every woman there, felt the need to get as hammered as humanly possible. Clark turned his eyes towards his friend, Martin Hendrix, who seemed just as drunk, if not more drunk, than he was. It was very apparent, to both Clark and Martin, that they were headed down a path of destruction.

“Clark, old buddy, what are you going to do tonight?”

“For about as long as I can remember, I’ve been doing the same thing every night. I’m sixty years old, for fucking sake, and what have I done with my life, except for maybe spent some money there, drink a little here? When I was twenty, even thirty, life seemed so much simpler. Now, my testicles are small, stomach quite large, and, I hate to say this, I’m losing my hair!”

“Well, some men start losing their hair before they turn twenty,” Martin chuckled.

“Your attempt at humor is very childish. It’s really not about the hair, it’s not even about the testicles, but it is about being alone. Don’t you ever, on nights when things get all complicated, get lonely for something, or someone? What I mean is, don’t you ever think about settling down, having a family? It seems to me, that a man who has no family, is a man lost in his own despair. Do you get what I’m saying?”

There was an emptiness in Martin’s eyes. He continued to look at the dancing girls, distracted by their delicate beauty. Clark clenched the glass in his hand, patience not being his strongest suit.

“Well, being perfectly frank, I don’t really want a family; I would like, now that we’re on the subject of women, to have one of those lovely girls in my room tonight. I never was good at being monogamous, you know. My first wife, God curse her soul, used to always question me about where I went. It finally got to a point, I just became so tired of her complaining, the constant accusations, it was easy to just do what she expected of me. That’s what marriage does to a man, it strips him of his pride and dignity. You don’t want marriage; it’s clear from the way you look at her, that all you want is to have the greatest sex of your fucking life,” he chuckled, taking a sip from his glass.

“Oh, is that what I want? Well, you’re so smart, how would I receive all this sex, by making love to my car?”

“By taking what you want most,” he replied.

Clark suddenly felt compelled to look at the girl again. Her eyes were big, breathtakingly striking, compelling beyond words. He felt young again, for the first time in probably twenty years. Beyond just her eyes, there was something about the way she danced that couldn’t be explained. She was graceful in her movements, the way that she strutted across the stage with confidence. Throughout most of the performance, Clark couldn’t help but be attracted to her, in more ways than he thought possible.

“She’s too young for me, much too inexperienced. Men our age, we don’t get to have that kind of pleasure, unless, that is, there’s money involved. She’s probably dating the manager, hopes he’ll give her some kind of big break. Women like that, why would they go for men like us, guys who have nothing to offer but wrinkles, poverty, and heartache, when it’s clear that what they really want is power, unlimited access to diamonds, money beyond limit? Let me ask you again: is that really what you would want, because where I’m sitting, it would be a very bad move,” he stated.

“I still think you should give it a try; who knows, you might even change your mind,” Martin suggested.

Clark frowned as he rose out of his seat. He took one last glance at the girl, that woman who tormented him endlessly, right before walking into the crowd. There was a deep agony within him, much deeper than he cared to admit. Clark opened the door to the hotel room, his only place of refuge from the outside world. He could finally sleep, forget about those eyes that drove every man mad with lust.

Clark pressed his head against the bed. He tried to gather his thoughts, only to fail with each attempt. His loneliness seemed to be more than he could bear to stand. Clark sighed heavily, meager seconds away from falling asleep. There was a tranquility that finally took control of him, guided him through his endless pain.

Gently and firmly, fingers began to stroke his back. They were soothing to his body, the part of him that needed peace of mind the most. Her touch was delicate, when compared to most women that he had associated with. It was more relaxing, more soothing, than anything he had felt before.

Clark finally gazed at her. Her eyes stared back at him, those same eyes that had brought him to the point of uncontrollable lust. She smiled, confidence clearly being her strongest quality. Unfazed by his sudden awakening, she continued to stroke him, kiss him with absolute gentleness, almost to the point that he nearly surrendered himself.

“Young lady, what do you think you’re doing?”

“What I’ve been doing all along: trying to please men,” she chuckled.

“Do you have no decency?”

“It depends on what you consider decent, I suppose. What is being decent, I mean from your perspective?”

“Well, it’s when you know, from the bottom of your heart, that what you’re doing is right, is morally good. Now, honest to God, can you say that this is morally good? You’re likely to get killed, sneaking into rooms the way that you do,” Clark stated, rising off the bed.

“Oh, am I? Well, you’ll be happy to know, I was given a key, and, it just so happens, by a very close friend of yours,” she voiced, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“Who put you up to this?”

“Does it matter?”

“It was Martin, wasn’t it? Of course it was him, that double-crossing, pathetic, slimy, sorry excuse for a man! Just wait until I get my hands on him; I’ll break every bone in his body, and that’s just for a start. I don’t know what he gave you, or how much he gave you, because you’re certainly not staying here, I can tell you that. I don’t think we need to involve the police in this, with the assumption, of course, that you leave as quickly as you came,” Clark grunted, removing her hand from his shoulder.

She didn’t say one word. Her eyes captivated him, in such a way that he couldn’t move, think, or even feel. She gave him a smile, exactly the same smile that had been given earlier in the evening. Clark remembered it well, well enough to know that as long as she had eyes as dark as night, lips as red as blood, and skin as pale as white, he was doomed to be her slave. She had him all to herself, in a place where magical things truly did happen.

“What’s the matter, do you like what you see? You wouldn’t be the first to like it; you definitely won’t be the last, either. I know that, more than wanting me, you actually think you can control me. I’m right here, at your mercy, humbled by your very presence. You don’t have to do anything; you don’t have to say anything. Let me bring out that beast within you, for your pleasure and happiness,” she urged.

“How could I just give myself to you, knowing that you’re only doing it because you’ve been used, wasted beyond measure? It’s just not right, in any manner that I can think of, and believe me, I’ve thought of plenty. What you really need, is a father, someone who will be there for you, instead of use you,” he pleaded.

“I’m not being used by anyone. I’m my own woman, capable of more than, say for example, just being a little slut. We’re trapped in a world where we’re constantly being judged, at seemingly every minute when we want to try something new, on days when we normally need comforting the most. Have I judged you in that way? Most people, when they look at you, will see an old, useless man, someone incapable of being a good lover, a good husband, a good anything. I see so much more than what you, I think it’s safe to say, see in yourself. Maybe, Just for a moment, you can try letting go of yourself,” she urged.

She proceeded to wrap her arms around him, and shockingly, he didn’t resist. Clark sighed with passion, an unbelievable amount of lust, most of it accumulating within the deepest aspects of his soul. Their lips, awakened by passion, finally touched, with the type of sensual feeling that captivated nations. Breathless and emotionally tormented, Clark couldn’t help but enjoy every aspect of their warm, very passionate embrace. His ability to think, rationally and calmly, suddenly no longer had any influence. He only thought about her, the sensuality that she produced, most of all her ability to control every man with the simple wink of an eye.

“This is, it just feels wrong,” he stammered.

“I’m begging you, just for tonight, don’t think about anything, least of all what’s right. It’s going to be wonderful, greater than anything you can possibly imagine,” she uttered.

Their lips touched again. Clark loosened his shirt, practically his entire body, in an effort to fully experience the overwhelming desire. He fell against the bed, entirely at her mercy. Her tongue extended with an unforeseeable force, one that overpowered his greater judgment. She calmly wrapped her legs around his waist, and he finally knew that there was no turning back. She pressed against him with tenderness and sensuality, in clear control of the situation. Clark fell into a somber, not in the least unpleasant trance. Pleasure was the only thing he knew, in that moment anyway. Clark imagined himself in a peaceful place, accompanied by her beautiful eyes, the wonderful smile that brought him an overwhelming amount of joy.

Darkness finally took hold of him. Her lips disappeared from sight, as everything he knew drifted into silent oblivion. Clark felt like he was on a cloud that drifted from place to place, stopping only to conserve energy. Clark started to open his eyes, somewhere between alive and dead, within the outreaches of time and space. The beautiful face that captivated him, provided him with the greatest pleasure imaginable, was nowhere to be found. She was gone, not even a trace left behind. Clark gazed into the abyss with an intensity that made it impossible, almost dangerous, to fully recover from what had happened.

Martin Hendrix stood beside the bed, his expression being one of confusion. Clark gazed at him, all manner of spite within the depths of those broken eyes. They paused for what seemed like the longest time, silent only because of the immense awkwardness of the situation. There was a type of bitterness within Clark, that had been there for so long, with many twists and turns, it practically made him incapable of feeling anything.

“Well, for all that talk about not doing anything tonight, you sure did have a party,” Martin chuckled.

“Who was she, just out of curiosity?”

“Who was who?”

“Why, uh, the girl,” Clark voiced.

“Oh, you mean, uh, of course, the girl in the club, she smiled at you and all that?”

“Well, who is she?”

“I don’t know,” Martin answered, confusion in his voice.

There was an intense feeling of isolation that suddenly entered the room; Clark pondered something that he hadn’t considered before. Perhaps, just perhaps, things weren’t at all what they appeared to be. Clark’s heart raced as he rose from the bed, leaned forward, part of him disturbed, in deep shock, because something had finally been brought to his attention.

“My God, Clark, what’s wrong?”

“Are you saying, it seems like this is what you’re saying, that you didn’t send her to my room?”

“What are you suggesting, that I would send someone like that to you, just so you could fuck her? I thought you knew me better, we’ve been friends for so long; well, anyhow, what’s going on?”

“She was here, the girl from earlier. She made it so hard to resist, how she took control of me, just turned me into her own personal slave. It was awful one moment, pleasurable the next,” Clark choked.

“She take any money?”

“I don’t think so; not to my knowledge,” Clark panted.

“You better check, just in case,” Martin suggested.

He proceeded to reach into his pocket. The wallet Clark so desperately wanted to find, in order to save the little dignity that he had, was nowhere to be found. He shook and sweated, some part of him desperate to believe that she did care, on some level at least. His spirit collapsed, simply unable to cope with the honest truth.

“The age that I’m at, I should’ve known better,” Clark whined.  

“She took you for a ride, in about as many ways as someone can be taken for a ride,” Martin chuckled.

The End



© Copyright 2018 JL reaper. All rights reserved.

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