I don't know what prompted me to take her back to my apartment, I could just as well have gotten any room, in any hotel, the place for what we both knew was coming really didn't matter. Neither of us expected anything special out of our time together, for her it was simply a business arrangement, for me, I don't know, maybe I just needed to know I could feel something.
One we were in bed I tried not to think about what she was, I didn't want to believe that I was capable of sinking so low, but, the fact was, I had. I forced my mind to shut down and gave in to the carnal instinct that I wished I could deny had been driving me for these past few months.
My lips find hers, and I silence her questions before she can ask me anything more then the small-talk we exchanged before leaving the bar. It doesn't take long for need to take control, skin against skin, her experience becoming all too clear.
I'll never know what led me into that bar that night, what prompted me to sit at that spot at the bar, but had I not done just that I would never have met her. I wasn't looking to meet anyone, I'm not even sure I had any intentions with my being there other than erasing the memories of the day with alcohol.
When she first came up and sat down bedside me I didn't think anything of it, conversation was the last thing on my mind, but, once it was there I didn't turn away from it. When she suggested we go someplace else, I was ready for the companionship, learning it would cost me stopped me only for as long as it took me to down my drink.
It was only after she was gone that the disgust at what I had done registered with me. What would Danijela say if she saw how far I had fallen? How would I begin to explain the changes in me that would justify my ending up in bed with a prostitute? When did my physical needs become more important then anything else in my life?
Yet, after that night was over, after I had time to think about what I had done, as sick as I was with what I had done, I called her again. What kind of a man am I?