Challenge: Make profanity beautiful

** ADULT CONTENT and LANGUAGE **

In a dark alley the celestial lights guide our way.

He prods me vigorously up against a weathered brick wall.

He doesn’t use my name, instead whispers hoarsely against my ear,

“Bitch,” my pet name, a sobriquet he uses for all women of my calling, my position, my career.

He wants to lay with me, to fuck me, he growls over and over.

I smile as I ponder what extra service he might be willing to compensate.

To the ambient melody of distant sirens and midnight traffic, I slide my hand down and dance with his desire, toying his shaft, his balls. I whisper feigned interest in his needs, his urges, his lust as I caress his protruding cock.

Slowly and methodically, like a cougar patiently stalking her prey, I slide down and bring my swollen lips within inches. His eyes deepen in desire briefly before he flips me around to face the wall, bends me over and yanks my hair.

“Cunt,” his use of the moniker betrays his mounting desire.

He’s almost over the edge and unfortunately much too soon.

I sigh. There will be no surplus tonight.

Within minutes he enthusiastically cums and promptly pulls away.  He  hastily zips his navy pin-striped slacks and wastes no time vacating our dismal den of iniquity.  He has legitimate and proper pussy waiting at home.

“Fucking dick”, my lips merely outline the words as he saunters away,

leaving me to freshen myself in the unsanitary alleyway.  I could have really used the extra 50 bucks.