Cookie Saga part one April 17, 2018 2:40 p.m. The York

I’m finally seeing one of my readers for paid sex on Saturday! He sent a private message a little over a week ago saying: “Say, wanna bang sometime before too long?” I responded, “Why yes I do.” The timing was perfect, I had a bunch of openings this month. We settled on two possible dates, back to back. I suggested the Saturday rather than Friday because he works a nine to five and that way we could start earlier. Also, I didn’t want to give him any room for an excuse to back out the day of. He asked how long he’d have me and a bit about all day in a motel in the valley. Typical. Men always ask that question. I said, “Not all day. “It mostly depends on how tired I get. I definitely don’t have the late hours I used to keep. Another good reason to do Saturday: start earlier and not be worried about time.” 

 

He said, “Fine by me! Grab some drinks and retire to a room for sexy time?” 

 

I responded, “Same minds!” I was glad we were on the same page. Unfortunately, a little voice in my gut was giving me pause. I nearly considered suggesting we skip. He has that whiff of a gripe-y customer. I hated dealing with them at the club. Add intercourse and a bigger wad and it’s a recipe for shit stew. Plus, it’s always nerve-wracking sleeping with a follower. Living up to the hype and shit. Last thing I need is a disgruntled fan. But then I realized that I’m low on cash because I only saw the Texan once this month and I’ve wanted it to happen with this dude so I put my ego aside. I messaged him last night, we had a fun go-around. I mentioned being a little nervous and my trepidation about him reading it later. He threw in a “I like a couple ho’s but ain’t none I’d wanna have drinks with. Or would buy a book from. Or any of the other things that make you so outstanding. I only ask you speak highly of me in some vague fashion to your followers. And maybe bring me a book - which I’ll obviously pay for.” It was sweet and made me feel better. I told him not to worry, that I’m rarely mean-spirited. I added that I’d most likely make fun of myself. 

 

We made the plan. We settled on a dive motel walking distance to bars I like in Highland Park. One of which I’m sitting at as I write this. The motel he mentioned looked atrocious on Yelp. I’ve done dive but I draw the line at bed bugs. I was hoping he’d handle the whole thing, but as the conversation was ending, he remembered that he’d recently lost his ID and asked if I would make the reservation—said he’d pay me back. I said sure. The motel is what brought me to this bar today. I wanted to get a look at the room before booking. Make sure cockroaches and other critters weren’t running the show. Also, most one star motels are easier to reserve in person. A room was being cleaned near the office, the Indian woman said I could take a look. I peeked in. Seemed fine. Faux wood floors—which are weird and loud but better than pee-stained carpet. She said I didn’t need to give her anything to hold the room that I could simply arrive on Saturday. I just realized I forgot to ask how much it was, but, come on, how much could it be? I also just got butterflies. This is absurd. I’ve been doing this for a hundred years! Money and free. I hope it’s fun. I mean, it’ll be fun because I’ll make it fun, but I hope I have fun. Especially since I’m getting zero action these days. I can’t remember if we kissed that night at Footsies for our meet n’ greet. I think I tried after a few drinks and as our evening was ending but he didn’t seem too down with PDA. I know it’s not everyone’s bag, but it’s not like I wanted to suck his dick at the stool. Note: If chick you’re into wants to kiss you, seize the opportunity!

 

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