Congratulations Frumpy Prostitute!

When he calls you up you'll be in a pressed linen pants suit.  You'll be sipping a cup of coffee, reading about your stocks and bonds and how they're stocking and bonding.  You'll be making notes, to send to your portfolio manager, when your phone starts buzzing on the table with such violence that it almost knocks your imported porcelain cereal bowl to the ground.

You'll pick it up and put on your best groggy voice.

"Helluhhhh?" you'll moan.

"Hey, hey, hey, Marley," he'll pant into the receiver.  "You free tonight?"

"Nnnhnnnnnnn," you'll keen back.

He'll ask about a specific time, you'll correct him, then you'll begin preparing for your appointment by laying in bed for several hours, removing your makeup, and dressing like you're a college student with mono.

When you get in the cab to ride to his apartment, the cab driver will look at you like he should be taking you to the hospital.

"You okay, lady?" he'll ask.

You'll nod.  "Girl's gotta eat."

He'll shrug in response.

When you arrive, Tony will be kneading his hands.  He'll nod at you as you remove your overcoat and reveal the XXL t-shirt underneath.  Your voluptuous curves will be so thoroughly smocked by the t-shirt that you'll essentially look like a child.

"Get in the bathroom," you'll tell him as you begin moving towards the bedroom.

"Can we pretend you're angry at me?" he'll chirp.

You'll smirk and nod.

When he finds you in bed and flips you over, you'll turn despondently again and again.  After almost fifteen minutes of this incredibly queer foreplay, you'll let out a long whine and kick Tony, not too hard, in the belly, knocking him to the floor.  After that you'll sit straight up in bed.

"Oh gerrrrd," you'll slur.  "Mhmsurry, huney."

Tony will get up and rub his belly, then shrug.

"It's okay," he'll say without looking at you.

You'll shake your head in response, grab him by his belt and pull him towards you.  Once he's near you'll unzip his pants with apologetic ceremony and take his penis in your mouth.

The pity sex will unfold from there, you moving with quiet generosity, kissing his bruises, whispering tired apologies in your ear, him attentively abiding you as you dominate the situation, moving above him, over him, across him, until he shudders and comes into a condom inside you.

After that you'll roll off of him and snuggle, ass to limping dick, making a little lip smacking sound while you do so.  Once he falls asleep, you'll slip out from under Tony, call a car service, and ride back home with the money he left for you on the dresser.  You'll spend the ride flipping through the roll of fifties he left, parcelling out chunks for rent, food, investment, and maybe, if you're lucky, a vacation in San Mere Eglise.

Congratulations Frumpy Prostitute!