Hard as Diamonds

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This article, Hard as Diamonds, contains the following: Adult Content, Graphic Language. Reader discretion is advised.

“Felix is bringing the zeni now. I believe the agreed-upon amount was Ƶ7,950,000,000.”

“Yes, ma’am. Not a bad price for such a beauty, eh?”

It was difficult not to stare. To put it precisely, Roshi wanted nothing more than to bury his face in her tits. She was an older woman, mature and refined, with short auburn hair, and she had about her a certain air of grace. Her black-and-white outfit was standard business casual attire. Breast-wise, she was larger than most; they were fake, though he didn’t care. Her nose being aquiline and her chin’s impressive girth were more troublesome. He could work with that, though the lights would have to be off (or he could do her from behind).

“So, uh, heheh, seen any good movies lately?”

Like a bucket of ice water being thrown over his head, she studied him. He’d seen that look before. “With my job, I don’t really have time to go out, unfortunately.”

“Oh, heheheh.” Noticing him staring at her chest, she should have drawn herself back, covered her cleavage, or slapped him. Instead, she blushed, drew herself inwards, and played it coy. She was willing to play. This was a rare opportunity. It had been years since a woman had responded with anything other than disgust to his advances. “Do you and the girls get out much?” His fingers drummed against the table. Patience was, of all, the most difficult virtue.

“Excuse me…? The girls?”

“The twins. Oh mama, they’re looking healthy today!”

He reached out as the door opened. In strode Felix, a suitcase full of zeni in each hand. She recoiled, but said nothing. He made several trips. Every time he left the room, the awkwardness diminished the Turtle Hermit’s confidence.

With the last suitcase placed on the table, she rose to her feet. “Our transaction is complete. May I have the diamond, please?”

“Here ya go, honey,” he said, placing it on the table. “Now how about you and I go get drinks?”

Stony-faced, she pocketed the gem, clicked her tongue, and walked out. Dutifully, Felix followed. He didn’t understand. Why had she given him hope? That type of cold rejection had become easier to bear the older he had gotten, yet, he still couldn’t help but feel like a fool. He appreciated Bulma in times like these, even if she had been the one who had found that diamond in Pirate Cave.

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Roshi had wired most of the money into his bank account. Since he was likely to spend all the zeni if he could, he had kept only Ƶ100,000 on him. That would be enough to have a little fun.

The first whore had charged Ƶ35,000 to show off her body. Thankfully, he had come with provisions of tissue paper. Her hooters were sagging, and her belly looked like lasagna, so he hadn’t paid for anything else. He didn’t regret taking a look, at least.

The next one charged close to Ƶ60,000 to spend an hour with him. For that price, she had to be good. Her name was Subi. She got off on parading about on any prone man who would pay her, walking over him as if he were the sidewalk, or better yet, a tuft of fresh-cut grass.

When Roshi asked for something more, she offered him her toes. He retched. There was nothing sexy about a foot, nothing that made the blood rush hot seeing toes wiggle about. The foot was not a sexual organ, nor would it ever be. What he wanted was the good stuff, what any self-respecting man would find attractive. She wouldn’t go that far. Only the feet would do, unless he wanted her to walk all over him in high heels. Roshi wasn’t into that, so he let her walk.

Night was settling in in a grey haze across East City, and so too were the nightwalkers.

A trio of them were camped out by a lamppost on Bunion Road, smoking like chimneys. He came whistling over, playing it cool. “Hey girls, nice night we’re having, heheheh, eh? Lookin’ full tonight!”

He cracked himself up. They sort of rolled their eyes, but when nobody slapped him, he knew he had a chance. They knew they were well-endowed, so maybe he should have expected that.

“Whatcha lookin’ for, hon?” the first one said in a raspy voice. She had bleach-blonde hair, the kind you’d find on a real estate agent, but she was about five years too old for a gig like that, and she didn’t wear half the make-up she should have to cover up the skank.

“Heheheh, why don’t I take you girls back to my place, and we can… get to know each other a little?”

“How much you got?” asked the second. She was thicker, though not beyond the realms of being saved, due to the size of her breasts.

“How much would it cost?”

“How much you got?”

Their feistiness gave him a rush. “Ƶ3000.”

The third one came sidling up. Her nose was so small, it almost looked like someone had cut half of it off. Her tits were nice and plump, though, which gave Roshi enough pause so as to consider her. “What’re you looking for, sweetie? You need a tuggie?”

He whispered his desires into her ear. The other girls didn’t need to hear.

“Nuh-uh, no way. Ƶ10,000 if you want that,” she snapped.

“How about Ƶ4000?”

She scoffed, wadding up some phlegm in her throat before spitting it onto the sidewalk. Inhaling her cigarette, she waved him away. “No way. Ƶ10,000, or get out of here.”

He drew himself up, scowling, narrowing his eyes, pulling his shoulders back, puffing out his chest. He tried every trick in the book. “Ƶ5000.”

When she didn’t respond, he shrugged and made a motion to walk off. As if she were being forced to go down on a homeless man, she called him back. Her protests were mild, he supposed, but it still made him feel like less of a man. Staring to the sky, he wondered where the moonlight had gone. Having never gotten this far before, Roshi didn’t know what to do next.

“You got a place to go?” she asked, her voice deepening.

“Let’s try that alley back there.”

She flashed him her fake teeth, pressing a finger to his lips. He sucked the tip, just a little. The other two were on their phones, blue light radiating up against their faces as their fingers clicked incessantly upon the touchscreens. Roshi and the girl went around the corner. There were some trash cans back there, some rat carcasses, and one or two tomcats feasting upon the innards of vermin. He went to squeeze, and for once in his life, the woman didn’t pull back, didn’t slap him, didn’t blush with fury and curse him out. She seemed to be into it. He squeezed and he squeezed and he squeezed, and his blood was flowing.

Roshi felt something poke him in the thigh. Looking down, he saw it. The whore was, indeed, well-endowed. She leaned in for a kiss just as he raised a hand to his beard, a useless gesture to hold back the vomit.