Parting Shot

Janet caught Phil staring while they caught up over drinks, and right when the mood felt normal he dropped the bomb—he knew what she did for a living now. She braced, but he smiled and said no big deal. Then he kept smiling, leaned in, and asked straight up if he could book an hour with her. Janet laughed at first, thought it was some dumb joke, but Phil wasn’t laughing back. The second she realized he meant it, heat shot up her neck. She told him exactly how shitty that request was, yet something in her snapped and she decided to give the bastard exactly what he wanted. “You want the full show?” she said, voice low. “Fine. It’s free, but it’ll cost us everything else.” Clothes hit the floor fast. Janet climbed on, rode him like the others—hips snapping, moans on cue, eyes bright and empty. Sweat slicked their skin while she bounced, squeezed, milked him dry. Phil grunted, clutched her ass, and came with a shudder. Janet dismounted, wiped her mouth, grabbed her bag, and walked out. Door clicked shut and the friendship died right there, sticky and loud.