"So," Joe continued, as the cop car in the distance put on the flashing lights and sped away to some unknown emergency, "are you done for the night and just need a ride home?"
"Well, that's up to you. Are you done for your night and in need of some company?"
Joe put his hand on my chin and turned my face to look at his eyes. Something about his touch sent warm floaties through my body, and even though his face was haggard and worn, and his large framed body almost frightening in dominance, I wanted to jump in his lap and smother his big miss-shaped nose and fat cheeks with kisses.
"I don't have much money. I don't think I can afford what you probably charge," Joe said.
"How much do you have?" I inquired. Quite frankly, Joe could have said he had two one dollar bills and sixteen cents in change, and I'm fairly sure I would have said 'yep, that will do.'
"Fifty bucks," Joe said, and then looked away, somewhat embarrassed.
"I could use forty bucks, Joe. I wouldn't mind doing some things to you with my mouth," I said, and again watched for his reaction.
"Ok, something is wrong with you," Joe said and then added, "I just told you I had fifty bucks, and you're going to leave me with ten bucks? What kind of hooker are you? You could have gotten the whole fifty." Joe looked baffled.
"Well, it's not my usual price, but I don't want to take all of your money. Besides, you look like you could use a little companionship right now, and I wouldn't mind a night cap," I said in a seductive voice, although there was no need to entice Joe, we both were fairly smitten with each other on a basic human level, and somewhat curious about each other, although neither of us knew why. Sometimes things just click like that.
"Something is wrong with you," Joe said again.
"Nah, nothing's wrong with me, Joe" I said defensively, and kinda pouted, but then gave Joe the evil grin of the eyes. A sort of dare... let me suck your cock, Joe. I dare you to let me.
"Ok, something is different with you," Joe offered as an alternative.
"Ok, that's fair enough," I replied.
"Hell, I'm already hard just making the deal," Joe said and put the blinker on left and headed back onto the road. "Is my place ok, or do you have a place we can go?" Joe asked.
"Your place is fine," I replied.
"Ok, but don't make fun of the mess, I didn't know I'd have any company over," Joe said and we drove towards the New Bedford harbor, to a small studio apartment building that Joe said was part of the historical society's tour of the city. "They are proud of this building, it used to be a famous whaling captain's home, but has been split up into nice sized studio apartments, mostly rented by old vets like myself."
We walked up the large front steps, the years of walking up and down had created a small dip in each step of thick slate. The front porch had chairs on it, and worn end tables, ashtrays on each one. A large potted tree was at one end of the porch, and on the other end of the porch, a large sculpture of a man in fisherman's gear, carved from wood, but so old it looked like stone.
Joe opened the large front door, and heat blew out, escaping past us like warm ghosts.