On the end of my finger was the stench of hooker, or what I imagined was hooker. A combination of fish, cigarettes and burnt plastic.
“I only sort of rooted her”, looking to escape the moral hangover.
“Well, you can’t be half pregnant”, Sam laughed. “You’re like a badly made origami swan.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Eh. Man, it was strange, though. She came in, saw me naked, got on her knees and just started sucking my dick.”
“And you expected it to be different how?”
“She just kept going ohhhh big size! and I’m like, I just want to talk to you…”
“Big size?”
“God I think I want to marry you, I said.”
“You’re not helping at all.”
“Man, I thought she was going to charge me a finishing fee… It was like getting a load off with someone trying to sell you a fake watch.” I instantly imagined him buying a fake watch, cock in hand.
“Pretty sure I got bitten by something in the love hotel.”
“Well, my bedsheets had blood on them… you probably got bed bugs.”
“Nah…”
“You’re right, it’s not as if you were laying down in a brothel.”
“But they’re a clean people.”
“My sheets had blood on them.”
“Sure.”
“Don’t you wish sometimes you could capture a moment as it is?” pointing at his camera.
“You can’t capture conversation, Sam.”
“I know, Jas. I meant your face. You look fucking terrible.”
This night marked the end of the first month of my escape – it was nothing like I had planned.
