A Series Of One-Shots [REQUESTS OPEN]

Hooked by a Hooker

Original story - 2012

Edited - 2020

boyxboy

Hella sex (didn't you see the title?)

IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER
!!Dubious consent!!
Because sleeping with someone while thinking they're someone else is not consensual sex!
Like with a few of my works, I wrote this when I was 14/15 and didn't see a problem at the time.
But there is a problem, and it would be irresponsible of me not to address it.

Read with a grain of salt, and remember that consent is sexy.

Part 2 coming soon.

*

I didn't choose this lifestyle.

I didn't actively choose to be straddling a total stranger who is busily tucking a twenty into my underwear. Granted, with the performance I'm giving, that twenty should be a fifty.

The money feels used, worn out. Kind of like me.

Like many jobs, there are perks that come with this whole gig. Choosing my own playlist is something small that I derive pleasure from. Makes my dancing a bit more fun, and if I close my eyes it can almost feel like I'm just dancing alone in my room.

Dancing for no one but myself.

But then again, a part of me enjoys the fact that I have everyone's undivided attention. I get a sense of power from knowing that I'm capable of making masses of men cum in their pants with only a matter of carefully chosen movements.

I want them to look at my ass? I hike my underwear a little higher, I sprawl my legs. They melt. It's easy money, as long as you're flexible and have a little rhythm. And core strength. Core strength is important.

As the song comes to an end, I finish up my act. Chest heaving, droplets of sweat dotted over my bare skin - but if anything, that just adds to the appeal for these guys.

And girls, to be fair. Women don't frequent Ruby as often as men, but some of the best nights I've had have been spent dancing for a private Bridal party.

They were always the best with tips.

With a bow, I blow a kiss to the crowd and walk back off stage. I can hear them calling for me to get back out there, but this time I'm not tempted. Sure, more money. Always a perk.

But not tonight.

Tonight? I have plans.

"You were great tonight, Dex."

My sister, Julia, smiles at me when I come off stage and I grin smugly at her. Of course I was great, I'm a favorite here.

My older sister is the very woman who runs this fine establishment.

Many of the performers are from off of the street, looking for somewhere with a bed and food. So they hear about this place that takes in strays. Clothes them, pays them, gives them somewhere to sleep.

All it requires is selling a little bit of your soul and abandoning all sense of modesty. Julia welcomes them all, as long as they perform well.

"Thanks," I reply, grabbing a towel off of the shelf, taking off my eye mask and wiping my face with it. The bellowing complaints for my presence only grow louder from outside.

"Looks like they really like you," she comments dryly. I roll my eyes with an amused huff.

"When do they not?"