Forced into a ghetto whore – Chapter 1

She came back at her hotel. It was cheap, not luxurious at all, but calm and clean. And nobody cared. Most of the people living there were older gay men, the clerks were kind, nobody ever troubled her, and she was there since a week. The men from Playman had offered her a room in one of their residences, but she had declined the offer; she feared that she’d be forced to stay with them, and she was very wary. So she simply had refused and had got an address from a directory. She hadn’t even told them her address. The less they knew of her, the better she felt. Even if she had to admit that the Playman guys had been almost unbelievably correct in their behavior, never trying to get an advantage over her. Real professionals, she thought, satisfied to have been smart enough to get in touch with them and to have exploited that contact.

She took the key from the counter, the clerk wasn’t even there. Climbing the stairs, she thought that it was good to have a hotel where there was nobody around. And she had got a superb room, cheap; it was a spacious room with a large bed, it was quiet, well-furnished and cheap. It was very private, very relaxing for a girl whose curvy body had always attracted a lot of attention, even if he had been careful to hide as much of it as she could. She didn’t like men’s attentions to her body; it was a dirty thing, she thought. Really, she wasn’t a whore and hated all the girls that sold themselves for money.
Posing nude was nice for her, because she liked teasing men. But having those leering eyes glued to her body, that was something entirely different. That’s why she usually wore a pair of baggy jeans, sneakers and a large sweater when going around, and her bras were normal-fit. Of course, she could allow herself this kind of bra: her breasts, huge, soft buttery mounds, didn’t need to be enhanced by a WonderBra, and were so firm and high that no support was required.