Guilt

back-foot

I told him I was going to be late home. He didn’t ask why. He doesn’t any more. He’s well aware of the pressures of my chosen career.

At 6.15 I took a cab to a pre-arranged destination, climbed the steps, pushed open the big door, and was on the big double bed, on my back inside ten minutes.
By 7.30 I was in the back of another taxi. “Where to Mrs?”

Cab drivers see a lot of humanity. I was sure he could smell the fresh sex emanating from my crotch, even though his knowing smile was carefully masked, his nose flaring just enough to breathe in my heated aroma.
This one is not sophisticated but he is rich. He’s also moderately hairy, long armed, big fingers and he loves to eat pussy. I’ve always been a sucker for a man who prefers to dine before he fucks.

He’s been screwing me twice a week for three months now. And the only demands he makes are that I turn up on time and keep my mouth shut. Like me he has a lot to loose. And he’s on his third marriage.
After the first time he tried to give me a present. I put a stop to that very quickly. Such things are ostentatious and can me traced. And I’m not a call-girl. I don’t fuck for money or expensive, shiny trinkets.

Do I, did I feel guilty? I did, yes. Guilt used to follow me around like a stench. I was surprised he didn’t notice the smell. But after a while I stopped noticing the aroma too. It’s a roller coaster, with excitement at the top and guilt at the bottom.

Would you believe I am, or was, a nice Roman Catholic girl? Guilt and repentance is part of my psyche. It was fed to me at the breast in my mother’s milk and with every meal, that I committed sins just by breathing.

Confession? Not any more. I can just image Father’s face when I began, “Forgive me Father for I have sinned, I have fucked three men who were not my husband, and I don’t particularly feel sorry about it.”

 My mother, who’d only ever had one man inside her in her entire life, would give me that look, the one that shouted disappointment and sorrow and then it would soften to forgiveness. I was still her girl after all, even if I enjoyed sinning more than repenting.

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