"Two packs of Marlboro Reds, 100s."
"Are you sure you only want two packs? You know, you can just ask, I have enough money to buy you four. Hell, twenty packs. Whatever you want."
"Two.Packs. Marlboro Reds, 100s," I repeat, impatient. "I have places to be, Dennis. Don't waste my time."
"Okay, okay. A little morning-after grouchiness, eh?" Dennis bends down to give me a kiss. I dont even know why he bothers, I've made it obvious that I'll never touch his lips. He is always in such a good mood after I go down on him. Especially Fridays.
His fawning is starting to make me sick.
I jerk away before he can come close to my mouth. He pauses, a look of hurt flashing across his face. His eyes crinkle for a moment in dissapointment. It's over in a second, though. He straightens, fixes his collar and says,
"Wait here. I'll be right back."
I watch his back as he walks away with quick, smart steps.
I turn the corner and settle on cement steps.
"I really do have places to be," I mutter to no one in particular. It sounds like a defense. I grow, frustrated. What, am I expected to spend a Friday afternoon with a fifty-six year old professor? To what, tour his fucking campus or sit through a lecture on the conversion of Europe? Fuck that.
Sighing, I stand up and knock Dennis. Startled, he catches me from falling and smiles. I only give him a blank look of indifference and hold out my hand.
He isn't discouraged. He gives me a bag, the cigarettes and some candy jumbled in.
I stay silent for a couple seconds, then stiffly thank him for the candy. Tell him that he didn't have to do that.
"No problem, pumpkin. I know how much you love that shit."
"...yeah."
"So, I'll see you soon? I know you have a busy weekend. I wish I was sixteen again. Ah, the mischief..." he trails off, nostalgic. "Anyway, how about Monday? Same time, same place?" He cocks his head like some lovesick puppy. It's misplaced and stragne to see on a fifty-six year old man. But I smile, slowly, and say,
"We'll see."
I walk away, swearing to myself that this is the last time I will ever see his face.
The last time I'll let him shove his dick down my throat.

But it's not, we both know it.

For two packs of cigarettes and some measley store bought candy, you probably think I'm selling myself short.

But really,
can you blame me?