“Why is the stupid door pink instead of red,” Katrina mumbled to herself. She had just rented a room in the famous red light district in Amsterdam. An American girl in Amsterdam. No money, no way to get home, no job. It was just sex. She scratched a smiley face on the door and went inside.
It wasn’t bad. There were new linens. She had heard that putting a bowl of pasta puttanesca out drew in clients. A knock at the door. Her first client. He took one look at her and said, “Let me help you get home.”
Aww a good guy in the midst of many not-so-nice Johns! Great story!
A knight in shining armour. Interesting use of the prompt.
A happy delightful tale.
Am I the only one that doubts this fellows intentions?