Why Are There...

...so many battered women in America?

Because the bitches don't listen.

It happens that I have an affinity for sick humor, particularly anti-woman sick humor. I enjoy shocking people with the jokes I tell - childish, I know. The joke above came to mind for me during this afternoon's frolic. Sexual Athlete genuinely likes me. He sent a sappy card. He texts and emails me nearly daily. And yet, I keep liking him less and less, and today I wanted to hit him for not fucking listening. The play-by-play:

Sexual Athlete is through the door! His coat is off! Now the tie! He hands off the 50 pages of material on SEC filings, he shoots, he scores!

Or rather, he jams his tongue down my throat - again - his fingers into my pussy - again - and demands that I come after about 2.5 minutes of strictly average oral. I fake it. Twice. I go down on him, his cock is decent, a good size, smells clean, he's clean. He comes almost immediately. We chat. I make sympathetic or indignant noises, as the case may be, while trying not to drift too far into the DayQuil haze.

Cowgirl, I come for real. He tells me he wants to fuck me in the ass. I'm taken aback - I've been very clear about this - and I say "Not today." He looks astonished: "You said 'no' to me!?" I briefly become very dominant and tell him to come. He switches to mish, the moment passes, and he does. Again, he chats, I listen and fight the fog.

More oral for him, he comes again. It's a tight hour and a half, he tips me $5 (more a function of not wanting change on a twenty), he's out the door. And I blissfully waft into my other hotel room, brush my teeth, and shower until I'm pruney.

Activities with Clients, Ordered from Least to Most Off-Putting:

Intercourse
Back rubs from them to me
Oral on them
Cuddling
Oral on me
Kissing
Being called by my real name
Being called by my real name while being urged to come

After - well, during - I decide this is it. I got a fat paycheck from my other job today, I have enough for what I was saving up for, Sexual Athlete's cash is going to be a lovely trip to the used bookstore and inexpensive lunches out for the next few weeks. I text Lover "Done Whoring". I tell Power Girl this is the last one.

Then tonight I get a lovely email from a client I've been phone-tagging with...

Please call me when you get back, I would still love to share some time with you and explore those things we would like to mutually consider, chew over, reflect, percolate, ponder, deliberate, mull over or ........... muse about.

I've been asking what he does, and he attaches a drawing. He's in urban design. I love urban design...

Merde.