Mishka

I kick my shoes off at the door and leave them where they fall. Short hair, bare neck, a silk shirt that is already half open because I got bored in the car. I look expensive. I do not act expensive. I laugh at the way you are still standing, then I walk you backward until your knees hit the bed.

I want you under me. Shirt shoved up, my hands on your chest, my hair ticking your mouth when I lean down to bite your lip. I grind slow enough to be unfair, then I take you in and stay there, watching. If you grab my hips I allow it. If you try to rush I sit up and make you wait. I get loud when I come, and I do not cover it.

Call girls who work this city know a Sadar suite from a noisy lobby. Nagpur at this hour is just the room and the woman on top of you. Tell me you can take being looked at. I will come up already smiling.