The last of the children finally had gone. The old gray river watched them go. Watched them all. And giggled and gurgled on and on, endlessly carving ...ts careworn crease in the face of the earth. And told to her, only to her, its timeless tales of wants and dreams and ambitious plots, soured and surrounded and washed away. But she had stayed. She and the river. The years ground away. Content, if not happy, she had dwelt alone. Her life became a simple ritual of sameness. The interminable tread. "Suck me hard, Joanie. My balls are really loaded." Shit, Marco, you insist on me sucking your cock or something else every time you set up one of these dates for me. And then you take half of my money too. You know damn well that I can give the best blow job you'll ever have." Shut up, cunt. You know that no girl works this hotel without my OK, so if you want to keep getting the jobs, you have to pay. And putting out for me is just a part of the price. You can go to some cheap dive any time. More

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