how_is_you
Devil with a Heart of Iron
- Joined
- Apr 5, 2014
Jason looked at himself in the mirror for the fifteenth time that night, nervous of what was about to happen but very excited at the same time. The internet was a glorious place, full of all sorts of services and products, and right now, he was pumping himself up to walk out his front door and finally go get some action, even if it would cost him one hundred bucks for the hour. Did the man think he would last that hour? No, not likely, but he gave himself a safety net for his nerves, just in case it came to that. Sighing as he stared at what he thought was a tad too...formal look for his tastes, he told himself it was for first impressions of this woman. Maybe a long term business relationship could blossom from this; it was certainly more easy to explain away one woman on multiple occasions as opposed to many different women once each.
He was treating a hook-up with a prostitute as if it were a date. Was that desperate? He didn't truly know.
Picking up his phone and slipping it into his pocket, he started to walk out of his house and to his car. He wore the best clothes he could find that wasn't a suit, and that consisted of a pair of dark grey jeans, a thin, longsleeve button up shirt, and a pair of black running shoes. The outfit was...relaxed, he thought, since the shirt wasn't tucked in and such, but still looked like he knew how to take care of himself. As he made his way down the stairs of his apartment complex, he pulled out his wallet and counted the money for the tenth time, making sure he had everything he needed before getting into his car, a black BMW M5. He wasn't typically a car guy, so the fact that he got a bit of a beast under the hood was only a bonus. He just liked the look of the vehicle at the dealership, for the most part.
The drive to the address he had been given (which, funnily enough, was the sake street as the McDonald's he frequented) was excruciating to say the least. He thought a million different thoughts about what the girl would think of him. He wasn't ugly, not by most accounts. He worked out regularly, was relatively tall, standing at about six feet tall. He weighed about two hundred pounds of lean muscle, his body well defined from his running and light weight lifting he partook in. His hair was done up in a messy sort of style, and his body had the light scent of a cologne he preferred to wear when going out. He turned on some music, hoping to help calm his nerves and act semi-respectable when he finally arrived at the home. His fingers tapped to the drums of the hard Rock song, his eyes and mind focusing on the drive to make sure he didn't kill himself because of his nervous behavior.
After about twenty minutes of straight driving, he arrived at the address, and he pulled up to the scurb of the street, sighing a bit and just sitting for a few moments. You can do this, Jason. It's no big deal. Besides, you're probably going to like this chick as a person to begin with. Getting out of his car, he made his way up the sidewalk and knocked on the wooden front door, waiting patiently for someone to answer.
He was treating a hook-up with a prostitute as if it were a date. Was that desperate? He didn't truly know.
Picking up his phone and slipping it into his pocket, he started to walk out of his house and to his car. He wore the best clothes he could find that wasn't a suit, and that consisted of a pair of dark grey jeans, a thin, longsleeve button up shirt, and a pair of black running shoes. The outfit was...relaxed, he thought, since the shirt wasn't tucked in and such, but still looked like he knew how to take care of himself. As he made his way down the stairs of his apartment complex, he pulled out his wallet and counted the money for the tenth time, making sure he had everything he needed before getting into his car, a black BMW M5. He wasn't typically a car guy, so the fact that he got a bit of a beast under the hood was only a bonus. He just liked the look of the vehicle at the dealership, for the most part.
The drive to the address he had been given (which, funnily enough, was the sake street as the McDonald's he frequented) was excruciating to say the least. He thought a million different thoughts about what the girl would think of him. He wasn't ugly, not by most accounts. He worked out regularly, was relatively tall, standing at about six feet tall. He weighed about two hundred pounds of lean muscle, his body well defined from his running and light weight lifting he partook in. His hair was done up in a messy sort of style, and his body had the light scent of a cologne he preferred to wear when going out. He turned on some music, hoping to help calm his nerves and act semi-respectable when he finally arrived at the home. His fingers tapped to the drums of the hard Rock song, his eyes and mind focusing on the drive to make sure he didn't kill himself because of his nervous behavior.
After about twenty minutes of straight driving, he arrived at the address, and he pulled up to the scurb of the street, sighing a bit and just sitting for a few moments. You can do this, Jason. It's no big deal. Besides, you're probably going to like this chick as a person to begin with. Getting out of his car, he made his way up the sidewalk and knocked on the wooden front door, waiting patiently for someone to answer.