Hugh and Brooke - Part 1, a short story by lscc. Date added: 2012-08-29. Times viewed: 1391.
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- Intro: Hugh was walking home from work when he bumped into Kandii/Brooke, a prostitute, who he just couldn't seem to forget...
Hugh whistled softly to himself as he walked home from working the late shift at Highball, one of the city’s most exclusive wine bars.
He thought back to the tall brunette who’d been flirting with him for the past couple of days and grinned. She would have been more than happy for him to go home with her and as much as he might have wanted to, it went against all his ethics. He’d done all the one-night-stands and back alley hook-ups years ago when he was in his twenties. It wasn’t his thing anymore. He wanted to find the right girl; to try and settle down, maybe have kids. Especially since he was in his early thirties and wanted to feel young enough to run around after them when they got old enough.
He sighed at length and turned down the small side street that led to his flat. The street lights were few and far between but from what he could see, the street looked deserted. Setting off at a brisk walk, he flinched when a car door was thrown open beside him and a woman clambered out, seething at the man inside, “You pervert! No woman wants to do that, no matter how much you pay her!”
“Then I want my money back!”
“No way, asshole.” She slammed the door and the car’s tyres screeched as it shot off down the street. “Pervert!” She shouted after it.
A second later, she smoothed her mid-length dark hair behind her ears and then her hands moved down over her black leather mini-skirt and fishnet tights—or were they stockings?—before she turned.
Hugh got his first good look at the girl and was flabbergasted. She was beautiful with her big green eyes, fine bone structure and perfect bow lips. Her body wasn’t too thin, curving in all the right places and her clothes showed off all her best assets: breasts and legs. The only thing he could find wrong with her was her use of too much make-up. It made her look older than she was which he’d guess at being early to mid-twenties.
Her eyes widened when she saw him and then she smiled. “Hey,” she breathed.
“Hey,” he echoed. His eyes roved her body looking for any sign of injury and found none. “Are you alright?”
“Me, I’m fine.” She waved vaguely over her shoulder, “He was just a perverted fuck, wanted me to do something to him that even I wouldn’t want anyone to do to me.” She shivered in revulsion. Her smile returned a moment later and she gave him a flirtatious flutter of her lashes, “Can I do anything for you, sugar?”
Hugh gave her a thorough once over. What was such a beauty doing being a prostitute? Such a waste, he thought.
He shook his head and lowered it as he moved past her. “No, thanks.”
“Pity,” she called after him, “you’re hot enough to get me cheap. Maybe even for free?”
Chuckling softly to himself, he shook his head again as he walked away. As he turned the corner, he glanced back to see her bent from the waist, talking to someone in a car which had pulled up. He frowned as she reached for the door handle and pulled it open. Her gaze found his and held it boldly as she lowered herself into the car.
Showing him she wasn’t ashamed of what she did for a living?
Hugh looked away and continued his journey home.
What did it matter what the girl did? She wasn’t anything to him.
Letting himself into his flat, he dropped his keys onto the small table in the entrance hall and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. He was tired.
Kicking off his shoes and dropping the bag that held his uniform, he left them where they landed and pulled his sweatshirt and t-shirt over his head in one fluid movement as he walked down the hallway to his bedroom. Stopping at the foot of the double bed he unzipped his jeans and shoved them down his toned legs and left them in a heap on the floor as he crawled into bed.
He dreamt of the pretty prostitute; of the way she’d look if he fucked her.
Her head thrown back, spine arched; her lips parted as she panted and moaned her pleasure; her breasts bouncing as he pounded into her; the way her eyes would lose focus when she came.
Hugh bolted upright in bed, his breathing laboured. He groaned when he saw how the dream had affected him. He glanced across at the bedside table. Six-twenty. He’d only had five hours sleep.
Cold shower time.
Getting out of bed, he padded across the room and turned on the shower. Climbing into the cubicle, he adjusted the temperature and leant back against the wall as the ice cold water ran down his body.
He didn’t even know her so why couldn't he get her out of his head?
The cold water wasn’t helping any so placing one hand against the shower wall he curled the fingers of his other around his jutting erection. He hissed in a breath at the contact and then started moving his fist up and down, imagining it was the green eyed girl doing this to him instead. Closing his eyes made it all the more real and he gritted his teeth as pleasure built in him. He imagined her in the shower with him, her dark hair tousled from the heat and his hands having tangled in it, her body glistening with beads of water, her mouth parted as she slowly sank to her knees ready to take him in her mouth. It was a very erotic image and he let out a hoarse groan, pleasure ripping through him as he came, his seed shooting onto the tiled wall.
Feeling a little weak, he dropped his forehead to the cool tiles and waited for his breathing to return to normal.
The prostitute had gotten under his skin and he wondered how that had happened in those few minutes he’d spent in her company. It was strange considering he would never likely see her again.
With a sigh, he turned the shower onto warm and washed himself and the evidence of his activities away.
He’d just have to stop thinking about her.
It sounded easy enough.
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