Victoria of Dallas

Howard was courteous as he introduced himself at my front door in Dallas, Texas. He was clearly a man with refined manners. But I’d been around long enough to know the man I met in my doorway was never the man that’d be fucking me a few minutes later. After a word or two of small talk about his law firm, his tongue was down my throat and his arms pinned me against the wall. “What do you want, Victoria?”

He’d be shocked to know an honest answer. What I want is a stack of crisp hundred-dollar bills, an eight ball of coke and a couple bottles of Chardonnay. But I learned early that when clients ask this question they mean something specific. They’re looking for me to figure out what they want. They need me to decide what’ll get them off without them having to say it out loud. What I really wanted was a big life, a life the size of Texas—one of adventure and success far away from that little Ohio town my family seemed to accept without much of a fight. One that my parents said I’d never escape. But that wasn’t something Howard would ever give me.

I finished Howard off and, after he dressed, he was once again the same gentleman I met at the door only an hour earlier. I knew I’d done my job well when he left me an extra $500 and a wink. I couldn’t wait to count my money and open that bottle of wine – that’s my climax.