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Deborah Richards

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By Deborah Richards
Saturday, April 15, 2006

Rated "R" by the Author.

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A whore’s concept

Nightmares A whore’s concept Alone for a moment, waiting for the next john to come I rejuvenate this body of mines, forgetting what contemplates me in my mind, my body begins to become numb again as I role play his fantasy,

his world an the ending of yet another piece of mines, footsteps echo closer to my door, ringing the knock of yet another foreplay in me.

Time is all I can say, time that his dollar has paid, envy of a life I long for outside this bedroom door, moisture sips from me,

as I begin to play with my nipples, so that they my arouse him even more, my costume face smiles in the mirror as I turn to the door to see the face of hunger, and the temptation that my body displays.

Pleasure has left me, gone like a thief in the knife, escaping all an little that I have yet to give to a lover, do I say or should I say the word lover, he who name sips my mind  when the door shuts behind him,

rapping my soul as I want, but want what is darkens in itself from me, it glares an image that proceeds who I am, but I am this, this whom dark side enjoys the fore pleasures of it's pain of lust that  beat this young body down,

I see lights rays that creep into my room an I can only think to myself how its warmth feels against my skin, the world outside haunts me, it is that fear I have escaped from,

mirrored walls surrounds the room it is this that distracts me from my john groan's, as the whips of penis penetrates my wound again and again stricken my inner core,

their is no going back my body encourage it all. Something in me still can release the wetness over and over again when I think there is no more left in me the moisture that soothes the walls of my vagina, 

I wonder way with each desire an penetration I am still tight I rejuvenate back to virgin states with each john, I am known for that an it is way the knocks on my door are so frequent, I'm laying here getting fucked an my thoughts drift me to here, as the hustle part of him is done,

my body can relax from a bruise that his strong hands gave as he was caressing my breast in away that calls me to tense, but yet I refresh my body an get through it all, looking at the woman in the mirror an  the whore that beckons,

 pain I see another through, with ease an a alluring walk he releases himself in me, this one is different his soft gentle hands show no anger no regret from his outside life, a kiss begins it all I back into the bed laying down like as I lick my lips whispering no name,

bending my back with a tilt of my head to gesture come to me with ease an hesitation he eases in me stroking with one thrust after another saying more, more he cries out, as he re lease's his manhood into me smiling whispering can I same time next week.

As he placed the money on my nightstand,.I walk away with a girlish once fairytale  But in less then seconds my world repeats itself as I hear footsteps, breath.  I sometimes wonder what compels me, the drive of a constant reminder of my career choice laughing to myself, 

I repeat it in my head career choice, yes my identification of tomorrows awaking, is it my urge, or the knowing that my lifestyle is what I see for myself in thought, what Nightmares cascade shadows of my john,

 what do I give him that another cannot, does his wife seduce him like I do, or maybe a girlfriend whom close  her mind or eyes to his pleasure's, what peace of me is left, in him, what passion do I give,

I am a still picture of a ageless old career in some odd way  those footsteps induce a hunger that acts out an emotion my only rule is no name so I call them all john, laughing to myself my bodies aroused by another, another footstep echos down the hall  this man wants me that thought keeps me going.

As I glide a soft red lip gloss across my lips over looking my body image, lifting my breast to its fullest smoothing my dress opening the door smiling saying hello john, as i stood in the door way with laced boots lingerie bedded with silk,

smoothing  to the skin an lust to the eye, its touch befriended my body more then the men whom eagerly hands cried out to my nibbling words, tell me your desires, as his manhood became to me.

A theme to each one I said to myself while pretense formulated a shift in nature like gossip, its hunger was my command my wiliness to feed it, blanket it to know more, but more was what brought john back to me.

It was my knowledge of each one that kept me working he was my educator, the outside came into me through him, they spoke to me about life its journey, its hidden secret that they only knew, I stood by them, I kept their secret each john had one.

Not knowing I crept into there lives, my whores concept looked out unto its red light district. Amsterdam housed me, but they traveled from afar for what was in between my legs, an as one lift another knocked giving me only minutes to refresh myself, an it repeated a moment.












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Reviewed by Nickolaus Pacione 1/28/2010
Is there some way you can actually expand this one? I think there is something here -- you need to flesh it out some to at least 2000 words. If you can do that, I might run it in issue 13. I think this could be something longer.

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