Unspoken Pleasure (erotica)
Just One Drink; 19

Violet blushed, stood up, straightening her skirt, and walked to the door. "And tell Mr. Trenton that you're welcome to pay his debts as much as he likes." The thought of having to do this again sent a wave of goosebumps across her skin as she shut the door behind her. She would tell James that, but only if he asked. She'd put up with almost any punishment not to have to fuck that professor again, she thought.

But thinking about that, just opened up the same can of worms she'd been struggling with all day, all over again. If Violet was nothing but James' whore now then it was only a matter of time before he had her fuck another one of his teachers, or his dealer, or anyone else he felt like. Could she deal with that, Violet wondered. Could she accept that? Her heart sank at the idea, but as she walked across campus to her place, she had no idea what she could do about it. Even if she tried to push back against her owner, he still had everything he needed to utterly ruin her life. For a moment she struggled not to cry again as she thought about that whore they'd watched in the park weeks ago. Was that going to be her in a year? Sucking dick or getting fucked for a few crumpled twenties by strange men?

Violet was almost home while she thought about that terrible image when she suddenly froze. How exactly did James know that whore was going to be there that night? Was that just her regular spot, or was there more to it? Could she be another woman that belonged to him in the same way that Violet did? Something didn't feel right, and for once Violet decided to trust her gut as she turned around and started walking toward the park. It was about the same time as it had been the last time, so if it was her regular spot, then hopefully Violet could just ask her what she knew.

When she arrived at the park, her heart sank. She wasn't there. It had been silly for Violet to think it would be that easy, but if the prostitute wasn't here, then where could Violet possibly find her? She turned around to leave, but at the last moment she noticed a couple guys lurking in the shadows across the way, not far from where she'd seen them last time. If they were here, then they had to be waiting for something too right? So Violet stood there in the shadows and waited. Twenty minutes later, when she was just about to give up, Violet saw a familiar silhouette walking up the park path. It was a lone woman in a short skirt with long hair. As she got closer, Violet could make out the dirty blonde hair and the fishnet stockings. The men saw her too, and cued up in the rough semblance of a line. When the whore got to the building, she got right to work. It wasn't sexy or exciting to Violet this time though. This time it was just sad. It was an assembly line of sex. She fucked the first guy in line, and then sucked off the next two. The movements were mechanical, and even at this distance it was easy to see the woman took no pleasure in it. She was just a hole, and the guys were just wallets. It was almost enough to make Violet start crying all over again.

After the sixth guy, there was a lull in business. The hooker took the break to light up a cigarette, and steeling herself for the task, Violet started walking toward her. It was now or never. The prostitute saw her well before she got there, but only looked at her with mild bemusement as she got closer. When Violet was only 20 feet away the whore asked, "What brings you out tonight honey? You want a turn?"

"No, sor-sorry," Violet stammered, shivering as much from the cool night air as how uncomfortable she was to be here, "I just had a question."

"Well, go on. Ask" The prostitute said impatiently, "another customer is headed this way, and time is money."

"Well- "Violet said, looking over her shoulder at the approaching man, "I wanted to know if you know someone - a friend of mine. James Trenton." Before she said a word, Violet knew the answer was yes. Even the jaded demeanor of the prostitute couldn't hide the widening of her eyes or the sudden brightening of the cherry on her cigarette. Her owner was involved with this woman, and probably just as deeply as he was already entangled in her own life.

"Sure," the prostitute said matter of factly, "I know the guy. Why do you want to know? Are you his new toy, or just an errand girl?"

"How do you know him exactly?" Violet asked, dodging the question, no longer sure what she was to the man she'd thought of as her owner for weeks now.

The whore dropped her cigarette butt on the ground and stubbed it out with one of her stiletto's. "I'll tell you what. You suck that guy's cock for me," she said, gesturing to her approaching customer, "and I'll answer your question." "But --" Violet started.

"And if the answer is no, well - then I promise you honey, you don't want to know the answer." The prostitute smiled as she said it, but there was no warmth in t, and Violet could see that there was something broken behind those eyes. Reluctantly she turned towards the customer, a middle aged man holding out a twenty. How badly did she want to know what James was up to, she thought, genuinely conflicted?