Continued from The Encounter.
I rolled off her onto the other side of the bed. In Spanish I said, “No me dijiste eso. No pago para el sexo” which I was hoping translated to “You did not tell me that. I don’t pay for sex.” I got on my back and stared at the ceiling. She said everything is okay and snuggled up next to me. I got the impression that she would bang anyway, but I was no longer in the mood.
I laid there motionless and quiet, stunned, reliving the past five minutes of my life, still naked with a condom on my junk. There’s the prostitute, laying next to me. She’s probably thinking about how much money she lost on me. I felt dirty, stupid. She got up from the bed and put on her clothes. I put on my boxers and walked her out to make sure she didn’t decide to grab a snack from the refrigerator and discover my money stash in the butter compartment. No more words were exchanged between us. I went to the bathroom after she left and rinsed my mouth with Listerine and brushed my teeth, a mostly symbolic cleansing for I’m sure I already have everything that could be transmitted from mouth to mouth contact.
It’s tempting to say that I should have known, but I disagree. I’ve had some experiences with American girls which come close to the Brazilian, and when you have been bombarded with messages that Brazilians are hyper-sexual beings you figure it’s just their normal way of doing things. Plus I had too many Polar Ices.
I know what I will do next time: I will make a casual reference to being short of cash. Maybe I’ll ask her if the bar accepts credit cards or I’ll say that I’m only having one more beer because I spent all my money and can’t find an ATM. If she is a prostitute, she’ll probably ditch me immediately. Short of asking her if she is a prostitute, which may kill my chances if she isn’t one, any insinuation of being broke should do. Basically what I do now with American girls.
I had a grin on my face the next morning. What a fucked up but crazy experience to have. And all it cost me was a whole lot of sand she left behind on my bed. I’m smarter and have better prostitutite-dar than before, but I’ll be surprised if I don’t cross paths with another secret prostitute again. I’m just glad I didn’t touch her vagina with anything but my fingers.
Conclusion: Sleeping With Prostitutes
