He groggily sat up on the couch, running his fingers through his hair. ‘I hope I didn’t take up too much room?’ He questioned. ‘Not at all. ...ould you like some coffee, Eric?’ He stood up, adjusting his wrinkled shirt. ‘I should get home, but thank you.’ There it was again. That conflicted feeling. Was I mistaken in thinking that what we shared last night was special? Or was I looking too far into this? Either way it didn’t matter. He was putting on his shoes and I wasn’t going to ask any. I had a regular following and made some good friends.I got a nice apartment and hooked up a job as a box girl at a supermarket. I quickly worked my way up to a well paid checker using my sexual skills on my supervisors as a persuasive tool .My mouth and pussy were being satisfied and were making me money just like a whore.Despite having a good job I was usually short on cash. Rent was high and I had a new car and car payment with it. I started going out to a couple different bars to meet. More

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