Diary of a High Price Escort Book 3 - Sex Stories

Diary of a High Price Escort Book 3

... I found a space in the back row and stopped the Benz. Flipping down the visor, I looked at my reflection in the vanity mirror. I thought. "Do I really wanna go through with this? Do I really wanna go in here and try to seduce some strange man? Do I really wanna let some unknown black stud stuff me full of hard cock." I grinned at myself as I thought. "Absolutely!"

Some pink lip gloss, a squirt of perfume behind each ear, and one between my lush tits for good measure, and I was ready for the challenge.

Walking across the lot toward the entrance, I noticed many pickup trucks and SUVs, not to mention the row of motorcycles in the spaces outside the door. Maybe Flannagan's was too much of a redneck bar for any brothers to hang there. I'd soon find out.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Hardly anyone in the place that was packed noticed me as I entered. They were all engrossed in conversation or too busy sloshing down bottles of beer to see one lonely MILF come in.

The place was smoke-filled, loud, and smelled of spilled beer. A baker's dozen flat-screen TVs were all tuned into the pregame show, and at first glance, every male in the place was as white as Larry the Cable Guy and most likely waiting for the chance to utter his favorite phrase, "Git er Done."

As I walked toward the bar, I thought. "Maybe I'd have to settle for some fat redneck cock instead."

Nearing the bar, I spotted an empty stool. Unfortunately, it was between two groups of good old ...

... boys wearing flannel shirts, tight jeans, and biker boots. It was not the best place to sit if I was going to attract the attention of a black stud if one was actually in the place.

I passed on sitting where I'd be between red-neck book ends and instead found a seat at a high table near the back of the place below one of those flat screens mounted on the wall. I don't usually smoke but carry a pack for the occasional time when a cigarette helps relax me, so I pulled the pack out of my purse and placed it on the table.

"What can I get ya?" the young waitress asked as she approached.

Normally, I'd order a glass of white wine or some fruity drink, but in this place, I figured to go with the flow. "How about a draft," I replied.

"Bud, Coors, or Yuengling?" she quickly replied.

Not knowing much about beer, I chose the one I was most familiar with. "Bud, please," I replied.

"Got ya," she answered as she turned to walk away.

As I waited for her to return, I tried surveying the place. Every face was white, and the few women seemed attached to their men at the hip. Perhaps I'd have one beer, then try another place.

As the game started, the youthful waitress returned with my beer. "You here to watch the game?" she asked as she placed the pilsner glass on a coaster before me.

I grinned at her and replied. "Actually, I'm here to watch the men watching the game."

She smiled at me, then leaned closer to say. "Well, be careful; by halftime, these guys can get ...