I’m a whore. I sleep with men for money. But I am also a whore who is in love.
We weren’t supposed to fall in love, it was only a kiss… but we cannot control these things.
My love, like a beast out of his cage, goes wild with jealousy at what I do. He tries to look on the brightside and he knows it is he that I love. But he also knows that once he falls asleep, I call the cab, I meet the men and they take off my dress. I touch them, their chest, their face, their penis. He tries not to think about it, pretends it’s all in his head. But it’s not. We go to bed and we have sex, we fuck. I know that sometimes his stomach gets sick, it is killing him and taking control but if he wants it all, if he wants me, then he must be down.
This is my destiny calling me; it is the price I pay, for being a whore.
How did it end up like this?
I never… I never… I never…