Free Selling Satisfaction by Ashley Beale Page B

shower, making sure it's ice cold. Then with my clothes still on, I climb in. I'm hit with the hard reality that I need to back the fuck off. At least for now.
    *~*~*
    "What do you got?" My new partner, Jeff Gunther, asks as he settles in the chair across from my desk. He tosses his weathered cowboy hat off to the side of my piled up paperwork.
    Unfortunately I don't have much. It hasn't even been a full week since meeting with Ginger- well Kandy - and it's not until next Wednesday that I meet with Mona, the first prostitute. These are things he already knows. However, I've had to ask questions with different Johns from the list, and cut them deals. I'm only five in, out of almost one hundred and seventy. Jeff has met with two, but is going to start taking over that portion, mainly for the fact I'm the one undercover and obviously we don't want me to get caught with former clients.
    "Not much, man. Still digging in. I've heard reasons why they've sought out whores, which is mainly because their wives aren't putting out anymore. I don't agree with it, but I guess that is their own dirty laundry to sort. Other than that, they all come up with basically the same facts; the girls are hot, young but legal age, Kandy set them up, what kind of lingerie they wear. No one can seem to describe the girls to me without talking about their bust size or if their hands fit tight around the asses. This is all bullshit. They're grown ass men who talk like adolescent teenage boys."
    Jeff actually leans back in his chair, sharing a chuckle with himself. "We're all adolescent still. My Pap always told me that women are like novels. They need anticipation, a plot, a reason to be filled with desire. We think they're complicated, but really they're not. They think with their heads and their hearts. Men though," he chuckles once more, "We have two heads for a damn reason, and we think far too much with the wrong one."
    "Even so, how can anyone take their hard earned money and spend thousands of it on a hooker? She may know what she's doing in the bedroom, but she's been used by so many people I can't imagine it feels that good. Plus, to come home to your wife, and maybe even your children after. How can you look those people in the face and think what you're doing is okay? I understand about the wanting the sex, but going after it?"
    He shrugs. "Why do people do anything that they do? Go into to schools and start shooting, or torture animals, or neglect their children, or do drugs. It's about thrills, fascination, addictions. You know, people like forbidden things. Granted, not everyone, but too many do unfortunately. And when it comes to prostitutes or escorts or mistresses of any kind, well I can't speak for myself, I've always been faithful to my old lady, but I know damn well that it doesn't mean their love for their significant other or family is any less. Sometimes people are ashamed of their fantasies, they don't want their wives to know the things that give them pleasure. Maybe they don't want to choke their newlywed but have no problem with a random chick that's begging for more. They have their reasoning, and it's not our job to figure that part out. It's to shut this operation down."
    "I know when the day comes that I'm married, I'll never pay someone to do for me what my wife can do. If I'm too ashamed to tell her my fantasies, I shouldn't trust her with my heart either. If I need thrill, I'll go sky diving."
    "You're one of the good ones, Burke," he tells me. For some reason it makes me feel three inches tall, not over six feet. Not the fact he thinks I'm a good guy, but that I had to lash out on him about what these so-called men do behind their families back. Over ninety percent of them are married, I know this because it says the numbers in the paperwork. The ones that are not in bound marriages are all over the age of fifty five, except three. Those ones make a little more sense to me- and at least they're single- but either way I