It rang. Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?

It rang.

It rang.

Three times in a row. Same guy, probably, but it was a private number, so I couldn't tell. The first couple of times I tried to answer, but it rang off before I could pluck up the courage. On the third time, I answered.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is that Molly?"

"Yes."

"Are you available?"

"Could be. What for?"

"Straight."

"Okay."

"How much?"

"Seventy-five."

"That's a lot."

"I'm worth it."

There was a pause. "Okay. Where?"

"Mine." I gave him the address and he said he'd be there in twenty minutes.

I had twenty minutes to prepare myself for my new career.

I'd like to say I was numb when I answered the door, like I had been with the three guys. It would be easier. I could say it wasn't really me. Me in body, not in spirit. But no, I was in complete control. I knew what I was doing. I was ready. The doorbell rang and I opened the door to a small, middle-aged man with no hair. I smiled and let him enter.

We went straight to my bedroom, where I had the bed already prepared. I started to undress, not making any show of the process. This was business, after all.

"Seventy-five," I said. He handed over the money and sat on the bed to undress. I was naked before him and stretched myself out on the sheets. I looked over at my computer, where a little light on the webcam winked at me conspiratorially. The guy turned to me and was already hard. "Hope you've got a condom," I said. He nodded and fished one from his trouser pocket.

"Will you put it on for me?"

I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to charge extra for that, but decided probably not. I unfurled it over his dick, noticing that his head was quite soft compared to his shaft. I gave him a good squeeze and wanked him for a couple of seconds, but he pulled away. Didn't want me spoiling his fun by getting him too ready presumably.

I lay back and he climbed on top of me, guiding his cock towards me. I winced as he pressed it against me and fed it inside, pushing hard. After some resistance it slotted into place inside me and he began to hump, resting on his hands so that he appeared to be doing press-ups above me. I pulled my knees high and spread myself wide, allowing him deeper access, and started to flex my abdomenal muscles. Anything to help him on his way. I didn't really know what to do with myself. I wasn't sure how much I was meant to touch him, and restricted myself to running my hands up and down his upper arms and shoulder.

He fucked me for over five minutes, varying his speed the whole time and changing his angle. He was putting a lot into it, I had to give him that. It almost felt good, but not quite. It was too weird for that. Finally, I saw his muscles tense and his eyes bulge and he started to hold his breath. His strokes grew shorter and faster, raking in at a flatter angle, and then he came, sighing and panting, lowering himself so that our chests met for the first time. He jerked about as the last spasms rocked through him, then lay on top of me.

I'd done it.

I'd done it.

I showed him out and closed the front door on the world. Pouring a quadruple gin and tonic in a half-pint glass, I sat on the settee and cradled my knee, rocking slowly as I went through what had just happened. I didn't feel anything. No shame, no embarrassment, no excitement, no satisfaction. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was just something I did.

I cursed str8guy for that and poured another quadruple. I passed out and woke up on the settee next morning. It's now Sunday, and I've just written the last two paragraphs, and I feel rough. I'm going to the toilet and I may be some time... :-(