Beeing a happy hooker
The door closes behind me. I am alone in the long corridor of an elegant hotel. It’s the middle of the night; guests are sleeping behind monotonous hotel room doors. In the elevator, a quick glance in the mirror – my hair is wet, my eye make-up is smudged, but my skin is glowing, my cheeks are rosy after sex and I feel pretty. I believe I never look as good as I do after some hours of fruitful sex.