I took Tawny the Temp for drinks on Friday after work. I try not to fuck around with women who don't have just as much to lose as I do, i.e. a marriage, but in this case I was trying to prove a point to Chelsea the Intern. 

If you can prove a point by having sex with someone, I believe that always the best route to take.

The point is, just because Tawny the Temp is young and pretty with plenty of cleavage and a tight little ass, doesn't mean she's a prostitute. 

We got drunk on tequila at my favorite dive watering hole. It's a dark, relatively small place that nobody from work ever frequents. Except maybe Gladstone and Kessler. But we usually coordinate.

It wasn't long before Tawny the Temp and I were fondling each other under the table. Tequila is always a good way to get someone to touch you. 

We went back to her place, which was surprisingly nice. I expected something a little more studio size, but this apartment was big. I also expected some more Hello Kitty shit in the bedroom like I found in Minoo the HR Coordinator's place. But Tawny's place was more classy; grown up.

I don't like classy and grown up, so I asked her to spank me. 

Unfortunately, she was ready for that request. 

She returned from the closet with handcuffs, a whip, and a paddle. 

I was reminded of my Sexorcism for some reason. I told her I wasn't into handcuffs, but I could put socks on my hands. She whipped me for that comment, then she ordered me to lie down on the couch. 

Wow, she really seemed into it. I figured, what the fuck? She handcuffed me and then paddled me like a bad schoolboy. I did not enjoy it. But, if it did something for her, I figured I could handle it. 

Finally, after the discipline, she turned me over and jumped aboard for some real fun. It was good, but also very angry, violent sex. I was fine with that, but I was thinking, this bitch is kinky. 

After sex and a shower, I got dressed and was ready to leave. 

"That was fun," I said.

"I hope it was worth the price of admission." she said. "That'll be $300." 

I looked at her like a glazed donut; everything all blurry. "Huh?"

"Non standard sex is always more," she said.

It took a couple of seconds to click, but instead of proving that Chelsea the Intern was just being a paranoid and jealous prostitute, I proved she was a smarter intern than I gave credit. 

"You're a prostitute?" I asked.

She nodded.

"I thought you were into that shit?" I said.

"I thought you were," she said. "Weren't you?"

Not only did I prove Chelsea the Intern was right, I paid for services I didn't even want.

"Look," I said. "You didn't disclose the fact that you were going to charge me up front. So I don't owe you shit."

I grabbed my jacket and opened the door.

"Then you'll have to deal with my pimp," she said.

"Pimp?"

"Someone at work," she said. "And not someone you want to deal with. You will not like it." 

How fucking ridiculous is that? Someone is pimping a prostitute at work. Well, besides me.

I didn't get a name, but apparently I was going to get a visit...