As I sat in a shoddy Mexico city hotel room with a hooker who’d accosted me earlier, I contemplated the meaninglessness of my existence. She pulled a meth pipe out of her bag, and offered to blow the smoke in my mouth after she took a hit, which I obliged. After repeating this a second time, I realized I didn’t have a condom. This seemed to piss her off, and for whatever reason, the high was more philosophical and sex wasn’t at the top of my priority list. Shortly afterward she left, and I continued to lay there engaged with aimless thoughts that seemed a lot more profound than they would’ve in a sober state.
I like this beginning better. You really are a good writer. I would be tempted to read the rest of the story. Just for me personally I won't read something if it gets too crude. But if it gets my attention and eases into the scene I will keep reading to see what's going to happen..