Primal: Part One by Keith Thomas Walker Read Free Book Online Page A

either.  Lately, he didn’t even take his girlfriends out to eat.  They had to take him out.  They bought him shoes and paid his bills.
    But as he studied the woman, Jovan realized his first impression was wrong.  She was a cute redhead, but her outfit and her age didn’t fit the average hooker profile.  She was only moderately attractive, and the crows’ feet in the corner of her eyes put her age in the mid to late forties.  Her dress was form-fitting, but it wasn’t slutty at all.  She wore pumps rather than heels, and there was no cleavage on display.
    Her skin was creamy, with a few freckles on her cheeks and arms.  Her crimson hair was straight, flowing past her shoulders.  She had small breasts and a nice pushup bra.  Her legs were long and slender, which was a turn-on.  But he didn’t think a middle-aged white woman was hitting on him.  Then again, they were in Vegas.  Maybe she went broke at the black jack table and thought she might get lucky elsewhere.
    Jovan wore his dreadlocks down that night.  His jeans were black, his shirt baby-blue.  He had his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, exposing powerful forearms and bear-sized hands.  The top three buttons of his shirt were open, and he had no tee-shirt underneath.   She looked from his chest to his brown eyes and back down at his chest.  Jovan wondered if this was what women with big boobs had to endure on a daily basis.  Men were such jerks.  But this cougar didn’t have much shame, either.
    “What’s up?” he asked her.
    She looked around before meeting his eyes.  “What’s your name?”
    “Jovan.”
    She grinned at that.  He wondered if she thought it was a nickname.  A lot of people did.
    She asked, “You wanna buy me a drink?”
    Jovan continued to study her as he shook his head.  “I don’t buy women drinks.”  He would’ve felt bad about saying that if it wasn’t the truth.  He watched as her cheeks reddened.
    “Okay.”
    He expected her to say something rude, but she didn’t.  He thought that was the end of their encounter when she turned towards the bartender and ordered her own cocktail.  He finished his drink while the barkeep mixed hers.
    She surprised him by telling the bartender, “Get him another one, whatever he’s drinking.”
    The bartender didn’t react at all, as if a white woman buying a young, black man a drink was the most natural thing in the world.
    Jovan continued to watch the woman as the bartender placed the drinks before them.  She had a slender face and body.  He wasn’t a fan of thin lips, but he liked the way she wore her makeup.  Her hips had a nice spread to them.  He didn’t see when she sat down, but he’d guess this woman had a nice, little booty on her.
    “So, what’s your name?” he asked.
    She said, “Sarah.”
    Her anxiety was obvious, and it was another clue that she was not a working girl.
    “Where you from?” he asked her.
    “Connecticut.”
    Jovan chuckled softly.
    “What?” she said, smiling.
    He was thinking that of course this prim and proper redhead had come from somewhere like Connecticut , but he didn’t tell her that.  There was no need to be impolite to someone who bought him a drink.  Even when she built up the courage to ask him out (if that’s what was happening), he’d let her down easy.
    But things didn’t go as planned.
    “Well, how much do you charge?” she asked.
    Jovan nearly choked on his drink, but he was way too cool to reveal his shock.  She thought he was a prostitute.  That was both scandalous and amusing.  Jovan had a decent track record of using women for financial gain, but he never flat-out charged money for sex.  But when in Rome…
    Without missing a beat, he said, “Five hundred for an hour, a thousand for the night.”  He wasn’t sure if those prices were acceptable, but if that’s what the high-priced whores in the hotel were charging, he should be able to bring in the same.
    Despite his smooth demeanor, his