Dream of: 06 December 2009 "Used To Paying"

Several other people and I were in a writing class being conducted by my old law school professor, Newton, who told everyone in the class to write a story. We were supposed to start immediately, and we would have an hour to complete the story. The others began writing, but I sat thinking for about 10 minutes, then began writing on a yellow legal-size note pad. The more I wrote, the move absorbed I became in what I was writing. I wrote and wrote until someone finally asked how much time we had left, to which Newton responded, "One minute."  I began writing furiously and realized I seemed to write better when I wrote spontaneously without thinking. I continued writing for what seemed like more than a minute, concluding that Newton must have simply said a minute when we really had more time. I wished I had been writing fast and spontaneously the entire time, not just at the end, and I wished I would have another chance to write a story because it seemed as if at least I had learned something about writing. I knew I would do better the next time.

As we were finishing up, an extremely attractive tall woman walked up to the fellow sitting next to me on my left and stood in front of him. She was wearing transparent stockings and she was somehow able to spread her legs so her pubic hairs were visible through the stockings. When the fellow said people called the woman "turtle," I realized that she was a prostitute and that she was showing her wares. When she kept walking and passed by the fellow on my right, I told him I wondered how much she charged. As she was walking away, he called out to her to find out her rates. She returned, stood in front of me, and said her price depended on what was involved. Since she apparently didn't want to give me a fixed price in front of everyone, I asked her to "give me a range."

She still hesitated. I wanted to talk with her and tell her I was used to paying. I thought about Michelle, and how I always paid Michelle - but I was not with Michelle anymore. I at least wanted to find out how much the woman charged. If the price were low enough, I might be interested. I handed her a piece of paper and told her she could write the price on it. I asked her if I could call her and if she could write down her number. She answered, "Sure," and started writing down her phone number. 

I was worried (since the woman was a professional prostitute) that I might catch a disease from her. I wanted to tell her that I didn't want to simply jump into bed with her, that I wanted to talk with her and be with her for a little bit. I wanted to get to know her first, the way I had done with Michelle.

Suddenly I realized I had become distracted from my writing. With the time running out, I said to the woman, "Sorry I can't talk. "

I had already filled up four pages, and I had also written some on a white napkin. Suddenly a wind blew my papers from me and I ran around trying to assemble the papers. It looked as if I had lost one page.

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