I’m laying in bed with the man that I really like. We’re in Sydney, and to be brash we just had sex. We aren’t cuddling but he’s laying next to me and the sides of our arms are touching as we both lay on our backs. He’s asleep – or at least I think he is because his eyes are closed and his breathing is heavy. His barrel chest slowly moves up and down. I like the sound of him breathing, it’s deep and powerful. It makes me feel safe.
The power of infatuation is the spell I’m under. In this time of my life I need a protector, someone I can confide in. Someone who likes me despite the lifestyle I have warped myself in.
Sex for me doesn’t come easy. It’s not because I’m bad at it, it’s because it comes with baggage. Being a prostitute skews my view of sex and it’s hard to detach work from life. Some nights I spend with him are easy – my problems slide from view and I just live in the moment. Other nights his touch feels unfamiliar. His face unreachable. A haze hangs over our encounter and it’s like I’m watching us lay in bed from a distance. I forget who I am and it’s hard for me not to get and up and run away.
He doesn’t know this double side of me. I’ve mentioned to him that sometimes it’s hard to seperate work from personal life but I don’t feel like he understands the depth of it.
I can feel a layer of sweat build between our arms that are touching. It feels really hot in this room. I can feel the heat radiating off of him and it’s starting to give me anxiety. He rolls over facing me and puts his arm around me. I know he’s asleep for sure now because his eyes are still closed and I can hear a very subtle snore.
His arm feels like a vice. It’s just resting on top of my chest but I feel like it weighs a thousand pounds. The panic and anxiety start to overcome me. I feel him vanishing in the distance and my head clouds with memories I have tried many nights to drink away.
His arm isn’t a vice anymore, it’s a grater. I feel like the tiny movements of his arm across my chest as he breathes are slowly taking away my skin. I can feel his breath on my neck and it makes me feel like I’m being burned. I want to run. I can’t handle this. I roll over so he stops touching me but he pulls me into a spooning position and I want to scream. My temples are pulsing from my fast heart beat and I try and control my breathing. I try and lay still as to not wake him up.
I fucking hate this.
I fucking hate myself.
I’m a disgusting human being.
I don’t deserve this.
I lay awake until morning. His alarm goes off at 7am to remind him to get ready for work. He kisses me good morning and I feel sick. I try my best to make small talk but all I want to do is get out of there.
I want to be alone.
I’m sick in the brain.