What’s sex without some sort of payment?

Some people pay for sex with cash, some pay with promises of love and fidelity, some pay with alcohol and guilt. Tonight Alan planned on the third. He wanted it so fucking bad.

    It has been over a year since he’d had the opportunity to sleep in his own bed for longer than a week at a time and Karen was rarely in the mood for sex when he was. He wasn’t an overly ambitious man but there never seemed to be enough money to go around, so he attended every paid conference and every sales opportunity that came his way, no matter the location.

   As Alan leaned into the bar and ordered a glass of amber medicine, he thought of his wife. She was beautiful but so inaccessible. It wasn’t even close to fair. She lived in HIS house and spent HIS money but didn’t lift a finger for him or even try to perform during sex. God, he needed to get his mind off that bitch.

    The bartender placed the glass in front of Alan and turned his back to go back to cleaning. All Alan wanted was to slip into someone warm and feminine…
after the liquor worked its magic of course.

   Before Alan could enjoy even a drop, a delicate hand wrapped itself around the glass and slid it towards a tall, pale, ethereal looking woman. She lifted the glass, downing it in one swig and sat it back on the bar before looking directly at Alan.

  He was stunned and couldn’t think of a damn thing to say, so he tapped the bar and lifted two fingers to indicate they would be needing more. She didn’t say a word. Just looked at him curiously. When the next shots were presented, they downed them. The strange woman laid two $20’s on the bar and grabbed Alan by the arm, dragging him deeper into the hotel.

Resisting was never an option.

 Alan knew sex was certain but this silent beauty was going to be so much more than a bedwarmer, he was sure. As the thoughts of animalistic sex played through his mind, so did the word cheater. Surely there was no way Karen would ever find out about it, but he still felt so conflicted.

   Part of him wanted to rush home and lay with his wife, but a more resentful part of him wanted to call the bitch while he plowed the sleek vixen next to him.

  As the elevator doors opened, he knew what he was going to do.

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