Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This book is the property of Honey Maxwell. I had no idea what was going to happen when I walked up to the bar. All that I knew was that I had been paid a good amount of money to do my job - the job that I had been doing for six months. I am a prostitute. Sure, I can dress it up as much as I want to - I’m an escort, a companion - a hooker. What you call me depends on how much you’re paying. Or, how much I’m willing to accept to fuck you. This job was different though. This job had been paid for by someone else - by someone who apparently owed my client. All that I had been told was that he was someone who would be happy to see me - once I explained to him who had sent him. The smell of a biker bar had always excited me. There’s something so honest - so raw about the scent of oil, tobacco - beer.
