Last night at work, I had a two-hour booking. Such bookings are nice, seeing how I don't have to shuttle from place to place, often barely arriving in time. The client was young -- far younger than I normally see. Hell, I'd say she was two or three years younger than I am, putting her in her early twenties.
Her apartment was nice but nothing extraordinary. Simply put, she wasn't the wealthy baby boomer I was used to being with. Still, she handed me the white envelope, complete with my pay. After offering me a drink, we settled onto the sofa, where she began stroking her hand against my cheek.
"Are you ready, then?" I asked.
She nodded. "Yeah, I think so..." Her tone was quiet, almost nervous as she led me into the bedroom. It was a young, feminine space -- pink sheets and white walls along with a stray Hello Kitty stuffed animal.
Instantly, I began to panic. Thinking she was underage, I asked for some ID. A driver's license, or a student ID from whatever college she attended. Red-faced, the client agreed, adding that she knew she looked young.
"I just... didn't want to be alone," she said. "After looking online, I saw that there are certain people who are... available, for this kind of thing."
I verified her ID then handed it back to her. Seeing how she lived alone in a one-bedroom apartment, it wasn't like she was some teenager out to have some fun. As I took off my clothes, she sat on the foot of the bed, just staring. Taking her right hand, I kissed it then let her graze my chest and abdomen.
After undressing her, I crawled into bed and began getting to work. Somehow, I instinctively knew to go slow -- that anything fast and hard wouldn't please her. Once the condom was on and I entered her, I had to take even more care to take things nice and slow.
It was then I realized she was a virgin.
I can't really explain it, but I just knew. Something about her body language, her closed eyes and frequent gasps. This isn't a case of me being some sort of sex god -- it's a case of her having sex for the first time, feeling a man inside of her. And while I think she had an orgasm, I did not.
Lots of guys might think sleeping with a virgin is a badge of honor, but as I've said before, I'm not most guys. After dressing and catching my cab downstairs, I couldn't help but think of what she thought of the whole experience. With rain gently pelting the against the car window, I leaned back into the leather seats and wonder if I'd done her justice.
Would she remember me for the rest of her life? Would the experience be thought of as a good one, or a bad one? Why on earth did she need a gigolo in the first place? True, she wasn't a knock out, but she wasn't homely, either. Surely she could have found a guy to do the deed without paying me.
Even if she doesn't remember me, I'll remember her. For while I never sough out to de-flower a virgin, being with one was truly a memorable experience. In a way, I almost feel protective over her -- strange, I know, considering all the other women in my life are strong characters, in no need of my protection.
And as the weekend begins, I'll be seeing my usual stable of clients. None of which, I suspect, will be virgins.
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