Chameleon in a Candy Story by Anonymous

Author:Anonymous
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gallery Books

Surely he wasn’t about to just go and fuck her so soon after the last one? She was a prostitute and as such she was only doing what a prostitute does. She was standing there nearly naked in a window coming on to men for money. Legally. It was a strange sensation. As if she was just performing in three dimensions what we all knew but were too afraid or too ashamed to talk about. That men wanted sex and women wanted security. And yes, of course I wanted her, but I couldn’t bring myself to pay for a woman like a cut of meat from a butcher. And my poor little ego couldn’t handle the notion that any guy with the correct amount of cash would fill this slot. Literally.

She had winked at me while I waited for Tim and now she was going to fuck him? Tim dropped his bag again and looked at me. He could see something was going on between the girl and me.

“I won’t be long,” he said.

The uninvited heat of jealousy invaded my thoughts and my initial, almost naive sexual fervor for the girl in the window dissolved first into disgust at her, then hatred for him, and finally anger at myself. What the fuck was I doing standing there waiting for this asshole to get his rocks off? With a whore. Had the filthy little cunt noticed something competitive between Tim and I and capitalized on it? She had seen him arrive and watched me wait for him. And this was business, after all. She was after a sale. How had I been tricked into this? After what seemed like an eternity, Tim reappeared, and I searched his face for some sign of pleasure or relief or shame or spite.

“I fucked her in the ass,” he said.

I felt filthy. I was as jealous and enraged as if he had fucked my girlfriend. I felt wronged, but what could I say? It disgusted me to think that by being there I had inadvertently added to his pleasure. There was no conceivable way to justify what I was feeling, which made the feeling even more dangerous. I couldn’t berate Tim for fucking this beautiful young girl any more than I could if he had rented a rowboat. But why did I feel so enraged? So betrayed? So . . . hurt? I was jealous that Tim had fucked a prostitute.

I called my sponsor and he suggested that I tell Tim he should get a hotel room. So this was what I did. He wasn’t even surprised when I told him that I disagreed with what he was doing and that I felt it was not sober behavior. It was as if he wanted me to throw him out so that he could think even less of himself than he already did.

“Oh, by the way,” he said before he left, “her name is Olga.”

Open on a shot of me in Albert Heijn Supermarket.

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