Wednesday’s Whore

He loves me so much that he invites me out every Wednesday. The first time it was raspy call that lasted nearly five minute because he was so nervous and had never done this before, but now it's the same call every time. "Meet me out back in a few minutes." Click.

I would walk out as instructed, heels clicking, short dress sashaying from my hips swaying. He never opened the car door for me, not even on the first night. I would open it and take in the smells in a deep sigh. Cheap cologne. Cigarettes. Baby formula. He told me the car was used, so I guess I overthought it.

He greets me the same. A kiss on my cheek. "Damn, you look good." A few more down my neck. It makes me giggle when his mustache grazes my skin, so he's careful to do it often. I whisper his name, and he grins. With one hand on my thigh and the other on the wheel, we go to the motel. We have out room, 348, which is between the Korean family with the bedbug house and the gay guys who have been on vacation for months. He goes to change into his birthday suit while I explore the room. I've seen it all a million times. The Bible, carefully placed on the nightstand with gum underneath it. I run my fingers along the FU that has been etched into the desk before sitting on the bed with the hideous sheets and staring at the busted TV like a queen gases at her consorts.

He comes out after fifty minutes of prep talk to his little friend. He waddles to the bed and slides next to me. He kisses my shoulder blades and undresses me. I pull the sheets back and see the stains. A plethora of good moments forgotten. A multitude of relationships. Soon, I'll add to the masses.