Because studying is no fun
Cherry red lips and painted nails, her eyes are hidden beneath the layers of bright blue shadow. She’s the type of girl your mother had warned you of, so you made sure to avoid that street corner when she’s on the hour. You somehow manage to spot her while she searches for her next quick cash. Her skirt is far too short; her top is far too low for any decent woman to wear. God forbid you are seen with her, but…
She targets you as her next client anyway, “hey there.”
Before she finish, you interjected, “Look, I’m not interested in what you have to offer.” You rushed pass her.
It never occurs to you how rude you were to her. Your mother had always taught you to respect women, but you didn’t know what to make of her.
As you round the street corner, you could not resist the urge to turn around and look at her. Even from this distance, her eyes are far too hollow. It scares you somewhat. She is on to the next man who is willing to shell out a few extra dough for a good quick laid. He’s far too old for her. But you suppose that it matter little to her, the men she’s with. They all become the same after awhile.
Her face plagued your dreams and you are unsure how you ended up in this dark dirty one room apartment with her. She stripped herself of her outer clothing and all you wanted to do was put it back on for her. Her kisses are rough, her fingers work to unbutton your pristine white shirt, she tug at your belt buckle and tossed it aside.
“Stop,” you said in between her kisses, heavily breathing. “I can’t…” she chose to ignore you and you kind of had hoped she would. This thing, whatever it is she is doing to you…you wanted more.
And you slowly become another faceless man name John who needed the rush of a whore to turn you on.