She asked me about what I thought afterwards. I didn't really know what to say. (I said something but I don't remember what.) She asked me if I was expecting her to be prettier, and I said she was very pretty. She said: Some guys expect us to look like models. If I looked like a model would I be doing this? Then she seemed sort of embarrassed, like she'd let the cat out of the bag that she didn't really want to have sex with me. No worries, sister. I knew that going in. She asked if she could have my belt. It was strange. It wasn't really a remarkable belt at all, just black leather with a steel buckle. It was probably worth twelve bucks. I told her it was a gift from my brother (true), otherwise it would have been no problem. I walked her out to her car, and she hugged me before she got in. I wondered about that. Maybe she was trying to leave a good impression for potential repeat business, or maybe she was grateful that I'd showered beforehand and didn't try to stick it up her ass. She said to call her any time.

I sat in the dark listening to records afterwards, smoking and thinking about how I had joined this dirty club, and I couldn't take it back. I was forever one of the Johns now.

this is not a daburg post

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