The hooker, the birthday guy and the boy

1

Wasted. That would be the perfect word. To describe me. Me, in general. And me, right now. You turn 40 and you seem to be forgotten by the outer world. Great fourth X birthday party! Huh! We all gonna come, they said. We are getting wasted, they said.
My saddest fuckin birthday. Ever. Sure, I've had bad ones. But not sad ones. Not like this. Mmmh, anyway. Eger and the valley of the beautiful women. That's how they call it. Yet the only woman I've found is a hooker. Yeah, I didn't actually find her. I just dialled a number. If you are having a miserable birthday, it has to peak in every possible means. The hooker is pretty. As much as a hooker can be pretty. She has some class, possibly faking it though. As we enter the hotel, she orders a whisky with coke. There goes the class. I take a black label and a ginger ale to wash it down. Boy serving it is whole-hearted, at least he appears to be. Brings the tray with the booze to the room. Fine, just get back to your desk. Let me close the door. Thanks.
The hooker is classy again. I suppose that's what you say when a woman grabs your cock with sure hands. Now she is naked, just the bra left on. I'm trying to grope her, everywhere. She is like a candy. The type of candy you bite on and you just can't stop chewing. It tortures your tasting buds so much that you chew faster, and faster until the moment you realize...

That she is gone. And you came.

2

Oh boy, what an awful day. Hate Fridays. There is this fat-ass lawyer I have to blow at 6 pm. Every damn Friday. It lasts at least for 30 minutes. No matter how hard I try. Men say they cum fast if I use both hands. Well this lawyer seems to beat the odds every fuckin occasion. Leaving him is a bigger pleasure than having an orgasm after months of trying at work and home. And yet, receiving a phone call at 2 am is almost worse. Guy sounds excited. Drunk. Wants to fuck. Has a birthday today. Booked a hotel room. In the valley of the beautiful women. How ironic. The slut walks into a place which salutes to beauty. Well, I salute to cock. Even pretty girls do that. 

The hotel seems neat. Ardent boy raises his pretty white face. Whisky would do it. He dutifully executes our order. Sheer innocence. At least in my eyes. He even brings the tray to the room. Birthday guy takes the tray with unsure hands, slams the door quickly. A swift series of movements and he is all mine. Or at least that what he thinks. I moan as I think my working hours are almost over. He tries to control me, but he even fails to play the role of a man. His hips' pace deaden. Inhale, exhale. Heavily. Switches to snoring. 

My clothes still ooze perfume. Not even a drop of sweat. Luckily the notes are already on the drawer. I sneak out of the room. The boy smiles with embarassment. I nod and say goodbye. I could see him staring at my ass from the window's reflection. Oh boy, could you buy me? Not even for an hour. 

The valley is chilly. Eventually it's 4 am. I'm finished.

Six days left until next Friday.

3

Things bothering me about night shift, reason no. 1: guests arriving after midnight. Maybe I'm too harsh, but if I booked a hotel I would totally get to my room before midnight. But it's the valley of the beautiful women, eventually. People come here for one reason. That one reason is drinking, and I'm totally okay with that part; what bothers me more is what ensues. 

When the guy said he is getting drunk tonight so he needs a room downstairs, right across the reception, at the entrance, I already knew what he has in his head. It's his birthday, so his buddies will make it sure it would be a night to remember.

It's probably 3 am and he returns with a woman. Who am I fooling, a prostitute. Fine, still a woman. Damn, but a gorgeous one. How can a guy like this be with... oh, don't be so naive, Peter. Prostitution is the finest way to define how money based society works. The more money you got, that better and prettier things you buy. 

Guy takes two whiskys. Ordering a whisky is always cool. Leaves the impression you are classy. Guy takes the tray from my hands and quickly closes the door. Oh boy, you are horny aren't you? Fine, I sit back at my desk.

Last for five minutes maybe. The hooker giggles and moanes delicately. I have to concede I'm getting hard. Damn night shifts! Luckily a faint shriek signals the end of the story. The hooker appears soon in the corridor, nods goodbye and leaves. Her ass sways hypnotically until her curves fade to black. 

My pants get comfortable again. And I have only three hours from my shift.