Only moderately full,
the 4: 57 to Detroit
still promised to be worth
a few hundred over and above
her regular take.

It wasn't all that tough,
an amusing game, actually.

Play it cool and distant,
they eat it up...
pouty lips and come-hither eyes,
yeah, but the cool and distant
is what really does it.

(She pens a note:
'must remember to buy
a few more shares of Maybelline,
maybe L'Oreal, as well.'
They saved her ass
more than a few times) .

Detroit by eight o'clock.
Ought to be able to do him
then cab it back to the hotel,
shower and reapply her face,

and still have time
to elevator up to twelve
for the man in 12 C,
and sock another six big ones
into the pocket of her suitcase
before the 11: 30 to Reno.

Have love, will travel,
sure beats a cell phone and pimp
on a street corner...

C.J. Heck

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/thoughts-of-a-call-girl/