I knew what to do with him the moment he walked in. I didn't even charge him for the massage. What was happening to me? Was the stereotype coming true... Was I no more than a glorified sex worker? The other was a man I had not intended to fuck. He came in, stressed and depressed, blond and blue eyed. His features were beaten down, his brow a constant frown, his nose a chiseled regal rock, but his chin was weak and speckled with unkempt blond facial hair. I was thankful to see that his chest was. Candy had tried out for cheerleader the first year she was in high school, but didn't make it. She was upset, of course. It was the perfect way for her to be at all the events and get some recognition too. She tried again during her sophomore year and this time she succeeded. She was delighted with her success and new status with the boys. Being a cheerleader was a very big deal.When Andrea and I divorced, Candy was sixteen and Brandon had just celebrated his eighteenth birthday. She was. More

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