[MF] broke in Paris Pt 3

TLDR recap: in Paris in my mid 20s I had an amazing visit with a lovely young prostitute.

Pt 3:
Slowly she washed us both off and helped me get dressed. As I left she gave me a piece of paper. Her phone number. “We get coffee,” she said. “Tuesday afternoon.”

I staggered away at 3 in the morning weak in the knees, hardly able to walk. Getting home took two hours. No cash for a cab, the metro closed. I slept all the next day and could still taste her, still feel her riding me. And Tuesday afternoon I called and she answered and told me to meet her at a cafe near the Sorbonne.

She was lovely in street clothes, a green patterned dress that came to her upper thighs. She kissed me and actually bought me a cafe au lait. Then she said, “You like me.”

“Yes.”

She explained we could go out but she was not giving up on clients. That we would be tested at the free clinic— she was tested monthly anyway— and if she didn’t feel safe after a client she’d use condoms again with me.

She took me to museums, clubs, cafes and brasseries, a flop house where she fucked me quickly while two women watched. She told me she sometimes came with clients and sometimes not. Old fat men could leave her breathless and young hot ones do nothing for her. She’d had women clients but was only professionally bi. She needed the money, she said, for school, although tuition was amazingly cheap by my standards. Once we fucked in a rooftop in the rain and once I fingered her while we watched Hitchcock’s Read Window at a revival house. She loved to masturbate while I watched and was more than a little bit an exhibitionist. We fucked in a cemetery, on a park bench, and in the back of a cab with an immense woman cabbie who roared with laughter as we did.

And finally I had to return to the states. Despite everything I’d half fallen in love with her and wanted her to quit and come with me. She laughed it off and our last time together was in the pitiful shower in my flat.

After a few months she moved and I never had a new phone number and soon I had a new lover. But this was Paris in a wet spring when I was a young man, and I’ll never forget how she looked by the dim light of the dawn coming through the window where she’d stand there naked, watching the rain come down.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/zjey0u/mf_broke_in_paris_pt_3