The shameful service

A loud grunt, and she woke suddenly. To her left was the burly man, his arms still wrapped round her body. Strange, as most men were gone by the morning. The girl tried to free herself without disturbing him. She couldn't budge his slumberous grasp, but finally wriggled free, toward the bottom of the bed. In the light she had a better view. He was even more grotesque than she'd seen last night. He was portly and hairy, but no less bearable than the usual customer. Sweat spotted his body. For an instant she felt the repulsion, the shame; thoughts she'd suppressed during intercourse. But then it was gone, replaced with a small sense of accomplishment. This was her duty, and she'd performed it with no shortcoming. At least she hoped not. Maybe this one would leave a tip. She hovered over him, as if deciding if she should wake him. The smell of bourbon was still on his breath. At that moment his eyes opened. She realized she had not yet clothed herself, and looked away, scanning the room for her dress. There was a knock on the door, and she managed to pull the dress on before he opened it.