It's scorching hot today.

I can't believe I failed my algebra quiz, again. I swear when it comes to mathematics, I'm stupid.

I sighed as I keyed my door open and walked inside my studio apartment. It was a spacious living space and I liked the homely feeling.

It was just three blocks down from the college that I attend which was a plus. I strode into the living room and deposited my bag on the sofa, continuing my walk into the bathroom.

I peered into the mirror and sighed again at my appearance. I've got bags beneath my eyes and my eyeballs are bloodshot. It looks as if I haven't slept in weeks.

It's all because of that stupid quiz Mr.Roker gave us. If I keep this up I'll fail that class, terribly.

Shoving my thoughts away, I washed my face and towel-dried it, walking back out into the living room. I crashed out onto the chair and stretched out like a cat. Fatigue ransacked my body and sleep was luring my eyes shut.

It's been a long week, beginning with the trip to that publishing company to exchange or refund a book I bought from them only to storm back out without doing any of the intended.

For some odd reason, that man's face still lingered in my memory. Why can't I erase him from my mind? Why did his eyes glow and why are they red instead of blue, green or hazel? He seems otherworldly yet he's human.

In any case, he's an egotistical asshole who's bad at luring guys who he wanna fuck, into his trap. Does he think I care about his wealth? Oh no, I don't, even though I can con his ass out of thousands if I wanted to. A man with all that money to spare can save me from debt and a life of working, making minimum wage.

Maybe I'll just phone Allen for a cock sucking session. Allen is one of my clients who loves to get his cock sucked.

Living a double life of a prostitute isn't hard in the least. You have real perverted guys out there who'll suck your ass for good money and fuck you for much more. Others, more thirsty ones, would pay a hefty price just for a striptease. Allen loves to fuck me in my mouth, he's never done me in the ass which leads me to think he's straight but afraid to fuck in the backside.

Which is fine by me, that one-hundred and fifty dollars helps with the rent.

I started selling my body at the age of eighteen. It all happened when I was served an eviction notice at the previous apartment I was renting. My back was against the wall and my college fees were due as well. There was a particular guy who was interested in me, he was a banker, a very good looking man. I already knew I was attracted to guys so there wasn't anything stopping me from jumping in bed with him, however, I was a virgin at the time and I never experienced sex with another guy.

I was afraid and unsure if I should take that leap. But I had no other options to bail me out of my situation that needed to be dealt with within that week.

I sat down, premeditated my plan and decided to bury my fear and fuck Mr.Banker, and that I did. I first got myself drunk at a local bar, but not too drunk that I couldn't walk or remember shit. It was the right level of intoxication to strip down my barriers and loosen myself up.

I phoned Mr.Banker, as I nicknamed him, who's name is actually Tye Fernander, asking him to chill. He was surprised at first but he eagerly accepted. Before he did, I laid down a few terms n conditions which he had no problem with.

A long story short, he fucked me for eight-hundred dollars. One hundred for fellatio, five-hundred for taking my virginity and two hundred for a full body massage. I actually took up massage therapy classes as a hobby.

Those eight-hundred dollars helped me a lot and to be honest, I developed an addiction to having sex for money afterward.

I frequented clubs and bars that older guys went to, sucking their cocks beneath bar tables and in the restrooms. Anywhere that fits the moment for me to make that cash. I remember this one time when I allowed three old farts to fuck me for a thousand dollars. You already know I had to do whatever they asked me to do because it was a lot of money.

Their cocks looked like burnt bacon, all shrivelled up and shit. I didn't care, exchange ain't no robbery. I needed the cash and they wanted my ass.

I'm a whore and I don't care.

Which leads me to call Allen for this one-fifty suck.

I reached into my pants pocket for my cellphone when it rang off at the same time. I fished it out and read the caller I.D. It's my partner in crime, Stephon.

I slid my finger across the screen and answered it.

"What's up?"

"Hey, Asche what's poppin'? Are you free tonight?" Stephon asked in a cheerful voice.

"I'm off from my part-time job and I don't have any more classes today, so I'm free. What do you have planned?" Knowing Stephon, he's hooked up a few clients for the both of us.

"There's this private party on a yacht tonight, owned and hosted by a multimillionaire, and I've secured us two passes to that party. Wanna go?" The enthusiasm did not go unnoticed in his tone.

Private party? Sounds about right. Maybe I can authorize a threesome for the right price. I'm feeling quite frisky today. I'll just cancel with Allen, and see him some other time, a man gotta make his money. Money talks, bullshit walks.

"I'm in." I finally replied, already anticipating the night to come.

We exchanged a few more words before I ended the call. I placed it on the center table in front of me and glanced out of the floor to ceiling window. It's still freaking boiling hot outside so I sauntered into my bedroom, turned on the a/c and gave in to sleep.

*****

"He's a prostitute?" I asked in disbelief as I held the sheet of paper with all of the info that I requested.

Greg looked me square in the eye with a nod. "He is. I've been following his movements for a week and I asked around about him and that's the info that I got."

I placed the paper down and ran a hand down my face. This complicated the entire situation. Even if I were to approach him, he'll think I want to solicit sex with money. Judging by our encounter, he now despises me.

I placed my palms on the table and breathed out, blowing out a puff of steam from my nostrils. Greg stood his ground, awaiting further instructions. Greg has been under my employment for over fifteen years. He's loyal and never questions my decisions, he knows I'm not human and yet he still kept his position as my private investigator.

"Do you know where he's headed tonight?" I asked.

"No, sir. Lately, he's been keeping indoors, for the past three days he's been at school, maybe he has exams he's preparing for. He also did not go to his job today, because it's his day off. I've concluded that he's probably going on one of his sprees tonight." Greg explained.

I sighed. "Alright then. We'll put this off until tomorrow. I'll be too occupied with the party I'm having tonight for my siblings. Make sure you continue to keep a watchful eye on him, Greg. Follow his every moment. Do you understand?"

"Yes, boss." He nodded and I dismissed him.

After Greg left, I sat down and leaned back into my chair, deep in thought.

I cannot understand why I am so infatuated with this boy. What is it about him that allures me? I have never had any desire for the same sex, so why am I going out of my way just to fuck him?

My body reacts to my memory of him and my cock heats up and lengthens within seconds just thinking about him, a reaction a female never elicited from me.

My dragon half even wants to have sexual coitus with him.

He's reduced me to stalking. Me, a millionaire, stalking a common whore. How is this possible?

I ran both of my hands down my face and gave up on trying to figure it out.

Fuck my thoughts, I'm just going to act on my feelings.

******

Both Stephon and I joined the queue of persons boarding the yacht. Each person wore the most expensive clothing and jewels that were worth fortunes. As for Stephon and I? We were dressed in casual tight fitted jeans and collared shirts with sneakers. Stephon wore Jordan's and I wore Converse.

Honestly, we were an odd duo. He was black and I was white; chocolate and vanilla, who got along so well. Stephon and I are the same height, five foot three, not so tall. He had short wavy hair that he kept trimmed into a low cut and beautiful hazel eyes. Men adored him...well the gay ones, that is. I, on the other hand, had short, chestnut hair, hazel eyes, and a straight nose.

Frankly, we didn't care how we were dressed. We weren't rich so we didn't care to try and 'blend in' with the other folks. We stuck to who we are and staying true to ourselves. Who didn't like it, they could kiss our asses.

We were finally admitted onto the yacht with a hard stare from the bouncer but when we showed him our passes, his expression immediately shifted to amazement and eventually he let us through.

The view was marvelous after the boat left the marina and sailed into the open sea. The distant lights from the city twinkled from far away as the soft music played in the background.

"Stephon, I see you've made it." A voice called out from behind us.

Stephon spun around to the face the owner of that voice with a smile. "Falcon! Thanks for inviting us! This is my close friend Asche, Asche, this is Falcon, he's an acquaintance of mine."

When I turned to greet the man, my intended smile dropped and a grimace replaced it when realization kicked in.

"...Mr. Dick Almighty!?" I said in distaste and disbelief.

******