Grandma Watches From Up There, I'm A Whore Now

Be honest with yourself. That was one of my grandma's sayings when I grew up. Now I'm grown and on my own. Grandma is looking down on me. she isn't happy with me. I started serving tables at Hooters, from there to a strip show. The owner sent me to Las Vegas where the money is. Cocktail waitress, and midnight prostitute. All arranged, minimums set, the rest I kept.

Twenty became twenty give. Only God knows if grandma kept count of how many men had had sex with me. Sometimes two a night, sometimes three. After the minimum I kept the rest. That girl from high school was no longer me. I am a whore, the long and short of it.

One old man asked me to marry him, runaway, change my name. I'm far away now, in a three bedroom house in a small town near a big city. The man I married turned sixty five. He still has it, young women do that for a man. My story is that I worked the front desk at a large hotel. It's a lie. I worked the bar making plans for later that night.

My target was two per night, if lucky three. Where did the money go? It's gone, if I ever got it. Now the old man pays for me, he gets me every night. Prostitution by another name. Marriage.