Rain Falls Ch. 01

"You sure about that?" I teased him some more. "You never know. I could rock your world."

"Fuck you, dickhead," he laughed. "Get out of my sight before I kick your faggot ass."

"I think you like my ass." I leered at him and laughed.

He scowled and lurched toward me, swinging to smack me upside the head, but it was just a half-assed effort that I easily evaded. I blew him a kiss and he flipped me off as I headed for the huge quarter-round double doors of the club.

I spent the night dancing. I let people buy me drinks and even a tab of X but I didn't have sex with anyone. There was plenty of sex to be had there. People were fucking in the unisex bathrooms, in dark corners, even in not so dark corners. But sex was a commodity for me. I got paid for it and I rarely gave it up for free. I had urges, like everyone else, but when I got them, I'd just go back to work. There were nights when I couldn't pull but they weren't common. If it wasn't for recovery time, I could have made a lot of money. Even on the streets, where I made a small fraction of what I had at the hotel, I did pretty well. But the danger rate was high and the burn out rate was even higher. I was only twenty but I knew that my time was limited. I had been lucky so far but everyone's luck runs out, sooner or later. I just hoped to get out of it before that happened.

I slid onto the barstool just as the bartender pushed a cut-crystal rocks glass across the bar toward me. It looked like a gin and tonic with a slice of lime but I knew better. The bartender was one of the few people who, rightly, pegged me as being under the legal drinking age and he never served me alcohol. He was a nice guy, even if he wouldn't serve me drinks. He was older, mid-thirties was my guess, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a dark olive complexion. He had an honest face and a benevolent smile. His name was Tony.

"Slow night?" he asked.

"Yeah." I took a sip of my ice water to wash the taste out of my mouth.

"The girls seem to be doing ok." He pointedly glanced over my head to the tables beyond.

I didn't bother to turn. I knew what I would see. "They always do."

There were three girls and one other guy that regularly worked the hotel and I had gotten to know them in the three weeks since my bite marks had healed. I had been nervous about stepping on someone's toes but it wasn't a problem. The girls didn't see me as a threat. The way one put it, if they were looking for what I had to offer then they weren't interested in them anyway. The other guy didn't have a problem with me either. He was on the opposite end of the spectrum. He was blonde and delicate and he claimed to be 5'2 but I really thought he was shorter. Vy was 5'2 and he was definitely shorter than her. He was what they called a twink and anyone interested in him wasn't going to settle for me either. The five of us didn't hang out together, we weren't, exactly, friends, but we were friendly enough that the claws didn't come out... often. Five whores in one place seemed a bit excessive to me but the girls didn't all work at the same time. They each took a week a month off, out of necessity. I never did figure out how they managed to make sure they didn't all take the same week.

I hadn't done as well there since that first night but there had only been one night that I hadn't gone home with something. It was a Wednesday night and the bar wasn't crowded. It was after 1:00 am and I had $200 in my pocket. I could have done better on the street. Of course, I would have had to work twice as hard for it. But, with the mood that I was in I probably would have hit up my favorite customer, the biter. It had been over a month since I had last seen him and, in a way, I missed him. As much as I craved his particular brand of pleasure, it was better for me to stay away from him.

"Too many macho cowboys in this town," Tony suggested. "You'd do well in San Fran or Vegas."

"It's fast and free in San Fran's bathhouses," I replied. "And too much competition in Vegas. I like it here. Besides, some of those macho cowboys are my favorite customers."

He chuckled softly. "Heads up," he whispered.

I sat up straighter at his warning and plastered a smile on my face. Nobody likes a sad whore.

"What can I get you?" Tony asked the guy who settled on the barstool next to me. It was a pretty telling move as there were plenty of other vacant seats.

"Bourbon, neat," he responded.

His voice was warm and soothing and I checked him out in the mirror behind the bar. The distorted image reflected back in the etched glass was promising. He was a little bit taller than me with brown hair and glasses. He looked handsome, from what I could tell. I glanced down at his hands on the bar, no ring and no tell-tale line around his finger where a ring normally resided. His hands were wide and strong looking. His fingernails weren't manicured but weren't bitten off either. Tony placed his drink on the bar and walked off, giving us privacy.

"Dylan," he introduced himself.

"Rain," I replied and shook his outstretched hand. His grip was firm and his hands were calloused.

He chuckled. "You too, huh?"

"What?"

"Hippy parents," he explained with a smirk. "I was lucky that I wasn't a girl. I would have ended up with a name like Cosmic Rainbow Flowers or something."

"Something like that." I smiled at him. Now that I was looking at him, head on, he was a lot better looking than I had thought. His face was ruggedly handsome with a squared jawline, warm cinnamon brown eyes, and soft lips that were made for kissing. He was younger than his reflection had led me to believe as well, mid to late twenties. He had an aura of confidence and quiet strength. He didn't need my services and I was more than a little disappointed. There was always a chance that he was looking to sow some wild oats but he didn't have that look about him. He was trying to pick me up as a date, not as a paid escort.

I was seriously considering letting him have me. He was hot and it was a slow night. It was a bad idea to give freebies out. It was an even worse idea to do it where I worked.

"So what do you do, Rain?" he asked, cementing the idea that he had no clue what I was.

"I'm in entertainment," I told him with a small smirk.

"Entertainment?" he asked.

"Rain!"

I turned at the sound of my name to see my favorite biting John striding toward me. "Well shit," I mumbled under my breath. It's what I got for thinking about him. I had accidently summoned him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked when he got close. His gorgeous gray eyes were stormy and his stunningly beautiful face was set in annoyance, bordering on anger. "Come with me," he ordered and wrapped his long fingers around my upper arm. I had no choice but to accompany him. He was a great deal stronger than I was and quite a bit bigger, in all aspects. I had no desire to make a scene.

When we'd gotten well out of earshot, and almost to the door, I realized that he was planning to drag me out of the bar. I planted my feet. It was enough of a resistance to make him stop. "I'm working, John," I told him.

"You're coming home with me," he stated.

"No." I shook my head. "I'm not. Go home."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm not going anywhere with you, John," I repeated.

He rolled his eyes. "Why do you insist on calling me that? You know it's not my name."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "When I get arrested, do you really want me to remember your name?"

He paused at that and changed his tactic. His features shifted from annoyed to seductive. "Come home with me, Baby," he crooned, caressing my face with his fingertips. "You know that you want to."

He was so gorgeous. He was over six inches taller than me with straight, blue-black hair that formed a drastic widow's peak and hung down to his waist. His eyes were such a dark gray as to be almost charcoal and his skin was so pale that he almost glowed. He had wide shoulders, a narrow waist and long, long legs. His body was toned and cut and lean and he could have anyone that he wanted. He wanted me and he was willing to pay for the privilege. I wasn't fooling myself that he liked me. He was hung like a horse, he liked rough sex and I could handle it. That was it.

He was almost irresistible. Almost. "No. I can't. It takes me too long to heal from being with you. You don't pay me enough to keep me out of work for weeks."

"I won't hurt you, Baby," he murmured, drawing his fingers down my neck and over my silk shirt. "You look fucking amazing."

It was the same suit that David had given me but I had supplemented it with different shirts. I was wearing black. It was too bad that I hadn't chosen pastel on the night that the Goth king decided to crash the party.

"No," I told him. "You always say that and I always believe you and then you fuck me up anyway. It took me two weeks to heal from those bites the last time."

"Come on, Baby. You like my teeth on you. We both know it." He gave me a coy grin. "And you love my big cock tearing you up." He leaned down and let his hot breath wash over my neck. "You want me pounding away inside you right now. Admit it, Rain. You fucking love it."

He was making my knees buckle. He was right. I loved it and I wanted him. It took everything in me to push him away. "No, John. Go home. I can't afford to be with you. Go find yourself another chew toy."

He sighed and stood straight, gathering his dignity. "Fine. But don't expect me to come to you again. You'll come looking for me. Don't think I'll make it easy for you. You'll have to beg for it, Rain. I'm not kidding."

I nodded and watched him walk away, knowing that he was right. I'd eventually come begging.

"Trouble?" Dylan asked when I sat back down.

I shook my head. "Just a work acquaintance."

"Your work in 'Entertainment'?" he asked.

I looked him straight in the eyes, willing him to get the message. "Yes," I replied flatly.

"Ahh," he nodded. "Well, the least I can do is buy you a drink," he offered. "What are you having?"

I barked out a sarcastic laugh. I couldn't even get a lousy drink in that bar. "Unless you plan on inviting me to your room and feeding me from the mini-bar, I'm afraid that's out of the question."

He squinted and looked me up and down. "How old are you?"

I just arched my eyebrow at him.

"Ahh." He stood up, pulled a ten out of his pocket and tossed it on the bar. He started to walk off and then stopped and turned back. "Come on," he said.

I slid off the stool and followed him.

I didn't pay attention to which floor we got off on. I spent the entire elevator ride staring out the glass wall at the view of the city as we quickly ascended above the buildings. I didn't pay attention to which room we went into either, which was unheard of for me. We stepped into a suite. I had been in one before but not often. The rooms I was usually invited to were of the standard variety. His suite had a view of the city and I moved to the window to stare out it.

"What would you like?" he asked.

"I'm not picky," I replied.

He poured two glasses from the kind of little bottles that you get on airplanes, not that I had ever been on one. He handed me a glass that was half-full of an amber colored liquid. It burned a path to my stomach as it went down.

"So, Rain?" he started. "Is that really your name?"

"Yes," I replied. "As much as anything is."

"What do you mean?"

"The story is that I was abandoned in a cardboard box, during a rainstorm, on Dutton Street." I had no idea why I was telling him so much. "They named me Rain Dutton."

"That's awful."

"Could have been worse. The next street over is called Falls." I smirked.

He chuckled and shook his head. "That's not what I meant."

"I know." I grinned. "Just a little levity," I explained. "So, what about you? Dylan Thomas or Bob Dylan?"

He looked surprised. "Thomas," he replied. "Bob didn't come onto the scene until a couple of years after I was born. You read?"

It was my turn to shake my head in incredulity. "Don't act so surprised. Hookers can read too."

He frowned and his brow furrowed. "That's not what I meant either."

I sighed. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm a little touchy tonight. You've been very nice. I didn't mean to be a prick."

He left me standing by the window and sat on the couch. "You really are a...?"

"Whore?" I supplied. "Yes. You can say the word. I know what I am."

"It's not the word that I would have chosen."

"I'm not offended by it. You can't do what I do without developing a thick skin."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure." I abandoned the window and joined him on the couch. "Shoot."

"Are you gay?" he asked.

I was shocked. "That is so not what I expected you to ask," I admitted.

"What did you expect?"

"Why do you do it? Or how much do you charge?"

"I think the reason you do it is obvious. You do it to survive. It's the same reason we all do anything. As far as your fees... I wasn't thinking that, but I am now," he smirked.

"Well, that's the easier question to answer. It depends on what you want."

"There's a menu?" he joked.

"Yes," I grinned. "I don't have it printed on placards or anything but, yes. Anything from a simple blowjob on up."

"How much for a whole night?" he asked.

"Are you propositioning me?" I chuckled.

He shook his head. "Just curious."

"I don't do that," I told him. "I don't sleep with my clients."

He broke out in laughter. "When anyone else says that they mean something totally different."

His mirth was infectious and I couldn't help but laugh with him. "Yeah. I guess they do."

"So are you? Gay, I mean."

"No one has ever asked me that before," I told him. "Everyone assumes that I am. Honestly, I don't know. I have sex with men but not exclusively. Men are more likely to request my services. There are occasionally women that hire me. I don't choose my customers, they choose me."

"What about non-paying partners?"

I shook my head. "I don't have them."

"Never?"

"It's happened but not in recent memory. Even then, they chose me."

"How long have you been doing this?" he asked.

"Two years."

"Are you over eighteen?" he asked, looking slightly worried.

I laughed. "Yes."

"So, if you don't mind me asking, what was the deal with Dracula?"

I laughed again and set my, now empty, glass on the coffee table. "You really want to hear this?"

"Sure." He got up and retrieved a few more tiny bottles of liquor. He poured me another glass.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" I taunted. "Because, you know, you don't have to go to that much trouble."

He chuckled. "Can't hold your liquor?"

"I can hold anyone who wants to lick me," I retorted. "Are you? Gay?"

"Yes." he replied. "Dracula?"

I grinned. "He's a client. He feels that I've been neglecting him."

"Are you?"

I shook my head. "I'm avoiding him," I explained. "He bites."

Dylan's eyes opened wide in shock and then started laughing. He kept trying to say something but he was laughing so hard that he couldn't get it out. "He bites?" he squeaked out. "Who'da thought?"

When he finally stopped laughing I said, "My life is boring. Tell me about you."

"Oh God. If you think your life is boring, mine is going to put you to sleep. Coma even," he grinned.

"Try me," I replied.

"There's not much to tell," he replied. "I'm not trying to avoid the question. It's true."

"What are you in town for?" I prodded.

"I live here," he snickered.

"You live here but you just randomly decided to stay in a hotel?" I teased.

"Yeah." He smiled. "I had a meeting here and there was some drinking. I just got a room instead of driving."

"Oh. What kind of meeting?" I probed. "If I'm being nosey just tell me. I'm not easily offended."

"It's fine. I'm selling a piece of property and the buyer met me here. Stupid, really. We could have closed the deal over the phone."

"Is that what you do? Real estate?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I owned the property. 500 acres in Montana. My family had land all over but there's not much of it left."

"Then why sell it?"

"I didn't want to maintain it and someone else did," he explained. "I got an offer that I couldn't refuse. Couldn't. It was from the government. I had the choice of selling the property or having it annexed. They were going to take it either way. Let them have it. Good riddance."

"They can do that? Just take what's yours?"

He nodded. "In certain situations. It's fine. I got a damn good price on it and I didn't have any use for it anyway. Apparently, they did."

"What do you do?" I asked.

"I'm an architect," he replied.

"I would have thought something more physical," I admitted.

"Really? Why?"

"Broad shoulders, strong arms, calloused hands and a great body."

His face colored slightly. He was embarrassed by the compliment and it was adorable. "Thank you." He rubbed his hands together like he was trying to scrub the calluses off. "I like to work with wood. I build things, furniture, mostly. I've always loved building things. I would have gone into construction but my parents insisted that I do something better with my life. Make something of myself."

"Must have been nice to have parents that cared that much about your future," I replied with as little hostility as I could manage.

He studied my face for a minute. "I understand where you're going with that. I wasn't trying to imply that my life was worse than yours. I was just trying to answer your question as honestly as possible."

"I'm sorry. I was being a prick again." I sighed. "My point was that you got the degree that they wanted and you have the freedom to do what you love too. It's a win/win."

"Yeah. You're right," he sighed. "It's just harder to see it that way when you're standing on my side of the fence. The grass is always greener, you know?"

"Well the grass looks pretty damn cushy on your side of the fence to me," I smirked.

"Tell me something. Do you enjoy it? Do you get pleasure out of it?"

"Sometimes," I replied. "Sometimes my pleasure is required. Sometimes it's not. Tonight, it wasn't."

"Tonight?" His voice went up an octave. "You were with someone tonight?"

I nodded. "Does that bother you to know?"

"You just seem so... put together."

I chuckled. "Thank you."

"I mean... You're not rumpled or anything," he clarified.

"It didn't require me to get... rumpled," I smirked. His eyes unfocused for a second. I had a feeling that he was trying to come up with scenarios that fit the description. "Do you want to know?" I asked. "I'll tell you but be sure that you want to hear it."

His brow furrowed. "I'm guessing a blowjob."

"Good guess."

"So you gave a guy head and you got nothing out of it?"

"I got paid," I corrected.

"That's not what I meant."

"I didn't get off."

"Did it even turn you on?" he asked.

"No," I admitted.

"But he thinks it did?" he asked.

"I hope so," I smirked. "I'd like to think that I'm good at my job." His eyes lost focus again. "Now you're wondering how many guys that you've been with were faking their enjoyment."

"Yes." He blushed again. "Is that bad?"

"No. I'd say that it's pretty normal. We all want to believe that we are pleasing our partners."

"But sometimes you get turned on?" he probed.

"Sure."

"With Dracula?"

I hesitated. I wasn't sure that he really wanted to know or that I really wanted to talk about it.

"I saw you at the door. You were practically swooning. I was surprised that you came back to the bar," he added.

"He's very intense," I responded.

"What does he do that makes him special, besides the biting?" he smirked.

I thought about my answer for a while. I was trying to find a way to answer that didn't come off making me look like a masochist. I also didn't want to lie to him. I didn't have any clue why it was important to me to be honest but it was. "Sex for him is more than the act. It's hard to put this into words. He gets off on the fucking, sure. He's a guy. We like having our dicks rubbed. But there is a part of him that can't enjoy it unless his partner is getting off to it. He has his kinks, like the biting, but he can't find pleasure in them unless his partner is. Is that making sense?"