The night my date took me to a hooker hotel

“I’ll give you nooky, so get ready,” I teased Alex over the phone.

He sighed in relief. Alex and I have been dating for three months and I haven’t had sex with her.

Alex was an oral sex pro, so I was good. Besides, I wasn’t sure I wanted him as much as I should have. More friend than lover, Alex didn’t shake my world emotionally. Oh, but he had a glorious…

“So I’m going to get a hotel room,” Alex replied impatiently, “for this weekend!” It’s because Alex, at 25, was still living with mom, and so was I.

We often had fun in stairwells and deep in dark nightclubs. I didn’t feel comfortable going to his mom’s house, and mom would kill me if she knew I was getting oral sex from a man who wasn’t my novio.

“Woah there, mate, slow down,” I wanted to say.

Instead, I agreed to get weird with Alex that weekend.

Penetration day arrived and I met Alex outside his neighborhood bar around 10 p.m. He wasted no time in hailing a yellow cab.

He asked the taxi driver to open the trunk. Before stuffing his duffel bag and my large tote in the back, Alex showed me what was inside: a jug of Carlo Rossi wine that cost him around $6.99. Chic.

Once inside the taxi, Alex called the address of our hotel. He pulled me into a snuggle and I stiffened. “Are you nervous?” He asked. I shook my head. In fact, I regretted that decision.

Finally, in front of the hotel, I felt an air of deja vu. “Have I been here before, I wondered. I shook off my intuition and we walked in the direction of the hotel concierge.

Right up front was room rates – hourly room rates. In that moment, I knew why the hotel looked so familiar. My longtime ex George took me there once and I refused to stay – because it was a hotel for prostitutes.

I looked at Alex who had already paid and had the room key in hand. He looked so happy, like a reverse neutered puppy.

“Maybe this room wouldn’t be so bad,” I convinced myself. I was wrong. The room was as dirty as I remembered.

The sheets were yellowish and I was afraid there were bed bugs. The only light came from two dim lamps, probably to hide the semen stains.

I was disgusted. I was appalled. I fucking wanted out!

Still, I didn’t say anything to Alex. I stayed at the motel with him, drank most of the cheap wine, and slept with Alex as he hoped.

Why? Because I didn’t want to upset him. Because we were already there.

Because I didn’t think I deserved more than what was offered to me – and he had very convincing language.

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