Not less than sixty pounds sterling, sir

Frequent suffocating moans escaped from my throat. One moment and I fell like a dead bird on the dirty asphalt, wet from the previous rain, in the yard between the houses. Another satisfied customer handed me three white bills. My share will not be so large, but it will be enough for me to eat and buy something expensive. The moisture made my fluffy fur matted, provided that it was not cut. When I returned to the disgusting brothel, supposedly located in a closed basement, where all sorts of marginal individuals hung around, I gave my share to the pimp, and he, in turn, demanded to put me in order because another client appeared in line who was eager to spend an hour with me in one of the of the rooms built here. And he has already paid in advance. I had to comb and lick my fur in less than five minutes. The client surprised me greatly, because it turned out to be Fergus. I have no idea where the anarchist fox could get that kind of money, I’ll have to ask the boss to check it for fakeness, but now I could only be glad that for the first time in a long time I would have an attractive partner. I don’t have to choose, but I don’t complain as long as I get paid for it. I used to be a fashion model and fucked different people at will, and then journalists found out about it and life took a turn for the worse. Unlike some, Fergus did not ask for anything beyond perverted. He made do with blowjobs, ridiculous phrases and vaginal sex. By no means, this was truly my best partner for the whole month, because his fox penis was large, surprisingly clean, having sex with him was a pleasure for which I had already been paid. After that, I didn’t have any more clients today. The next client won't be until tomorrow at someone's birthday. One thing bothered me, the address was not far from the 101st Dalmatian Street. In this area, I became famous as the main whore, that I caused fivefold damage to a giant family of Dalmatians, as well as some other noble males hanging around that street. For my good work, the boss allowed me not to twirl on the pole today because I was wildly tired of twirling on other people’s poles. In order to somehow relax, I clung to a resting “colleague” with a joint in my teeth. It was a white-haired Afghan hound. - Hey, Teresa, are you leaning on weed again? - I asked. - You know, for a whore, you're too boring. - She snorted. - Well, how are you doing, darling, how was your night? A monotonous voice, as a result of the buzz, accompanied her every word. - Listen, do you know that you have a bitch on order? - Teresa asked. - No, who told you? - So they discussed the order in front of me, I heard the voice of some two young whores, and the order was actually some complete chick with such a low voice, can you imagine? It seems to me that not only is she a bitch, but she’s hardly a fucking puppy. But apparently, since it’s a birthday, then.. this.. She’s probably grown. - Teresa said. - But apparently you’re no stranger to working with clitters, huh? “Interesting...” I said, and then stood up and went to my room before going for food. - Okay, Teresa, continue to rest. - Get off on your own, cunt! - She barked in response. All the same, life here was not nice, constantly spending time with complete bastards and bitches in every sense. I’m not the most professional here yet, but the most desirable whore with the most beautiful story before all this is going to the bottom. But I have nothing to be proud of and no one to be proud of. The feeling of discomfort and my own fall still overwhelmed me despite the lack of morals and principles.

***

It was evening, I arrived at the address. It was some kind of very dark private house, very stylish. Reminded me of a Protestant church. But they really couldn’t order me to go to the temple, where it’s not just that prostitutes are not allowed, but dogs in general. Exhaling, I went up to the porch and rang the bell on the door. I had a bag with toys at my side, and I myself was dressed according to order, like a medieval European prostitute. The customer clearly has some wildly unusual fantasies. A black poodle in an informal outfit opened the door for me. So that's why the order is so exquisite. - Come in, your client has already been waiting for you, she’s on the second floor in the room. - She said in a gloomy voice. So my customer is not a this hottie, but then who? I was already looking forward to it. Just didn't have to deal with some pit bull. I went inside. - Blanca? What are you, a prostitute now or what? - Dolly jumped out from one of the corners of the corridor. - A-ah-ah.. So it was you.. Did you order me? - I hesitated. - Did you do it on purpose? - No, no, no, no, your girl is on the second floor, but we didn’t know about you. We simply asked for the best prostitute. - She answered. - Well, okay, it’s good to wag your tongue, better go do it literally. If anything, after that, if you can, we’ll go away with you for a few words. When I finally got up and opened the door of the very room where they were so fiercely waiting for me, my surprise mixed with a couple of other opposing feelings. It was Dolly's sister, Da Vinci. She was also in a suit, and in the suit of the one after whom she was named. Now I have to have lesbian sex with Leonardo Da Vinci, that’s fucking cool. Of course, the strap-on and role-playing games even made me believe that I had sex with a guy, but still I knew and understood the truth of what was happening. In general, I even had a desire myself. After the theatrical performance, I left the baby to get high and, being torn apart by her, I headed to Dolly. The Gothess led me into the kitchen where Dolly was, and she left. - My God, Blanca, why has life beaten you down so much? Is this all after your modeling business fizzled out? - She asked with pity in her voice. - Actually is not. I just tarnished my reputation so much that I had to drop out of the game. - I answered. - Now, yes, as punishment for my sins, I fuck for money and live with even bigger stoned whores... And you know, in general, of course, you most likely want to tell this to Dmitry and everyone around, but I ask you not to do this, I and I took it so completely that I was mired in fierce shit. - No, I feel sorry for you. Is it true. Our family of duty was friends with you while you were in a relationship with Dmitry. Dawkins would like to apologize... - For what? - I interrupted. - For tackles. And Dylan wouldn't mind, but he's too much of a stubborn asshole. Still thinks it was you who seduced him. - Dolly answered. - He really should have kept quiet and thought before getting in on you, Dmitry now hates him for it. - Actually, I didn’t mind either. Dolly, I understand that you feel sorry for me, but life has shown that I’m a whore and always have been, there’s nothing to feel sorry for me for, it’s easier to put me to sleep. I cheated on Dmitry. Meanwhile, I initially flirted between the three, and then broke everyone’s hearts. Don't waste your time on me. Goodbye. - I abruptly stood up from the table. - Stop! - Dolly called out to me. - Everything can still be changed. I know you'll say you can't, but let me just help you. You must have already suffered for your actions? - I.. Yes. I am at the bottom from which I am not able to climb out on my own. I seem to have some money, but my life sucks. There are alcoholics, perverts, drug addicts all around, no one gives a damn about me, everyone who was friends hates me and rightly so, and explain to me what my confession is worth now? - I want to offer you to live in my room, with me. - Dolly said. - The family will be against it, but I will send them all and no one will forbid you to live nearby. To spread rot on you only over my corpse. I guarantee you this. At the same time, I’ll help you get back on your feet and we’ll find you a new decent job. - Why would you help me after what I did? This is absurd. Nonsense. Stupidity, I don’t know what else to call it. - I said. - I don’t care what happened. I don't want to lose my friend like that. They look at this differently, but I can’t have anything against you, I don’t care about your former relationship, Santa Barbara and other crap, for me you’re still a friend. - Dolly, you're like Jesus. So... Yes, I agree. Thank you. We hugged tightly before I went back and, having given away the entire masquerade, left the pimp this time without taking my share.