There was a clatter on the floor.
Flora looked behind her in frustration. The old guy who was trying to fuck her was fumbling around distractedly because his false teeth had fallen out and tumbled to the floor.
Flora sighed vocally. She got paid well for this, but this was just frustrating. Every job had its perks. Supermarket employees can drop packets of food, say ‘oops,’ write them off as damaged goods and take them home. Plastic surgeons get to stare at boobs most days, hum thoughtfully, all while just staring at some person’s breasts, imagining how the nipples would feel to suck. Bankers can fuck the entire economy and take home millions in bonuses. Flora’s job’s perks were sex and occasionally good orgasms.
That was not going to be happening today. Ted was eighty-two years old, widowed three years ago, and had just decided he wanted to taste the fruits of the flesh again before he followed his late wife up to the choir invisible. Based on his performance this afternoon, Flora thought, he’d have been better off sticking to regular elderly person past-times; bingo, sucking on boiled sweets, complaining about the weather, and muttering about immigrants, while claiming they’re not racist.
Half an hour later, Flora was walking away from Ted’s townhouse with a purposeful strut and a longing in her vagina. She had eventually pushed Ted down on the bed, mustered all her poise to be seductive, told him to relax, and wanked him off. Her arm moved like she was playing whack-a-mole on hyper-speed mode. When Ted came, even his ejaculate was disappointing. Flora was half surprised there wasn’t just a huff of dust and a moth. Ted howled like he’d stubbed his toe. She wiped her hand on his jeans, thanked him, dressed, and left, all before he’d managed to roll onto his side.
Flora was twenty-four and very intelligent. She had a first-class degree in Environmental Science. A drunken encounter two years ago with a brothel’s madam saw her leave her comfortable, but utterly fucking dull job for a National Park, to become a high-end paid companion.
That’s a euphemism. She was a prostitute. A very expensive one. She was five-foot-nine inches tall, a little curvy, busty, and had a solid command of seduction. She also had the sex drive of a teenage male who’s walked into a communal cheerleaders’ shower by accident.
That sex drive needed satisfying after Ted had thoroughly failed to satisfy her, or truthfully, probably himself. Flora thought to herself, ‘do old men look in the mirror and wonder what happened, or do they still stand there with a withering erection and think, ‘still got it, baby’’.
She marched in her tight knee-length skirt, cropped top, and short denim jacket towards the bar at the end of the road. Her stylish boots clipped and clopped as she marched. She was very aware, as usual, of all the admiring and furtive glances she was generating. Young studs ogling her, thinking they’re being cool and confident, but actually looking like they’re lost in a desert and have just seen an oasis, and husbands walking with their wives trying to roll their eyes as far to the side of their heads as they can, and they inevitably start walking like a faltering robot. Normally she loved them, but right now, she didn’t give a fuck. Unless one of them was able and willing to pull out an impressive and already erect penis with which to fuck her within an inch of her life, she wasn’t interested, even if she had been walking past Henry Cavill flexing in a thong.
Actually, that’s a lie. She’d have stopped for that.
When she reached the bar, she barged through the door, ignored the regular at the fruit machine she nearly barrelled to the floor, and walked straight to Jonah who was stood behind the bar talking to an elderly regular.
“I need you to come and fuck me right now.” Stated Flora, commandingly.
The regular at the bar choked on his drink and looked at Flora like she’d just said thousands of man-eating crocodiles were falling from the sky.
“In English, we say ‘hello,’” replied Jonah, wiping up the old gentleman’s spray from the bar top.
“I’ve just had the most unsatisfying customer, I am horny as sin, and you have a good cock. Take me upstairs right now.”
“I’m working, Flo,” replied Jonah, amused, “that’s generally what I’m doing when I’m behind this bar here.”
“I don’t care.”
“I’m free,” interjected the old man with a raised finger politely, and hopefully.
“I’m not,” retorted Flora, tersely.
“How come you’re offering it to him, then,” asked the man, mildly indignantly.
“Because,” Flora began like she was lecturing an idiot for the umpteenth time, slapping her hand on the bar, “he has a cock that would make a blue whale blush, and his tongue can go like the outboard motor of a speedboat. Do you have either of those going for you?”
“Well, well, during, during the war,” the old man began, fumbling his words.
“Absolutely not, just stop.”
“Flo,” said Jonah, in amused exasperation, “I’m not going to have sex with you right now. I finish in four hours, I can come and meet you then.”
“Nope, I need it right now,” stated Flora, “either you fuck me now, or I fuck myself on this bar.”
“You are not doing that, Flo.”
“Captain Grampa thinks it’s a good idea, don’t you?” stated Flora.
“Excellent idea,” exclaimed the elderly gentleman.
“George, be quiet.”
George lowered his head.
“Are you going to fuck me right now?” asked Flora.
“Nope,” stated Jonah, folding his arms.
“Right,” said Flora, resolved. She marched through to the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” asked Jonah, deflated.
Flora ignored him and opened the fridge, grabbed the biggest, thickest cucumber she could find, and marched back to the bar, holding up her hand to silence the protests of the chef, wondering who she was and what the fuck was she doing taking produce from his fridge.
She re-emerged at the bar, and George looked like a puppy who had just seen his owner returning from the shop with a large pack of food and a pork chop-shaped parcel.
Flora walked to the front of the bar, shuffling up her skirt, jumped onto the bar top and began pulling off her delicate lace underwear.
“Are you mental?” questioned Jonah.
“You’re the one passing up this pussy, Babycakes,” replied Flora.
