curvier women who are just as sexy as their more petite counterparts. Sex appeal isn't a number on a scale, it's an attitude, a state of mind. Any woman can be sexy."
His words deeply affected me. I expected someone shallow and obsessed with a certain kind of look, but he kept showing more depth and wisdom than I gave him credit for. Which made my feelings for him all the more confusing. "You have a refreshing attitude about women, Mr. Davenport. I wish more men thought the way you do."
He exhaled into the phone. "I think you'd be surprised how many men think like me, at least in regards to this. We're not nearly as hard to please as women like to think. It's women who a re their own harshest critics, fo r reason s I've never understood."
After a long pause, during which time I couldn't help but mentally calculate how much money he'd paid to list en to me breathe, I asked him the question I'd been dying to ask since I found out about his arrest. "Do you have any regrets? Anything you wish you could change about your life?"
"That's a heavy question for so late at night. I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."
I agreed and waited while he found his words.
"I got into a lot of trouble when I was younger. Let's just say growing up in the shadow of my father and g randfather didn't leave much room for innovative thinking. They expected their carbon copy, and I disappointed in every way possible." He inhaled his cigar before continuing. "My solution was to act out. I experimented with drugs and girls. Got into fights for stupid shit and generally made a public nuisance of myself. I'm not proud of it."
"What made you change course?"
"One night, at a bar, a guy came at me with a tire iron. I'd had years of training in Krav Maga. The guy never stood a chance. It was self-defense. I was arrested but quickly released. I thought I'd just banged him up bad, but I found out a few days later… he died from head trauma. His family wanted to press charges, but there were too many witnesses. He was armed, I wasn't. Still, it was the night I decided I didn't want to be that guy."
I couldn't imagine living with the death of someone on my conscience and wondered what it did to his.
"Now fess up, Cat. What's your biggest regret?"
How mu ch did he know about me already? About the real me, not the phone sex operator. I couldn't risk bringing up my real regrets. That I didn't act sooner to save my parents. That I didn't stop the man before he escaped. So I picked something easier to talk about. "I have a lot of regrets, some so old they've grown into something else I can no longer identify. But lately I've wondered how much I'll regret this job, once I've finished my education and am happily married with kids and a career. Will I look back and realize there were other options that I didn't look hard enough to see? Will it scar me in some way that damages me beyond repair, preventing me from creating the life I imagine for my future? So I guess my biggest regret is what might be my biggest future regret, if that makes sense."
"It does," he said. "How do you feel about this job now? Right now, not in five years or ten years, but tonight?"
"I don't know. At first it was really hard, and sometimes it still is, but it's gotten easier. I have some regulars that call in. Guys who seem harmless, lonely. I guess I'm getting comfortable in this role, and that scares me most of all. Who am I becoming that all of this feels normal now?"
"You're adapting to your life circu mstances. That's a healthy response and one that helps you cope. There's nothing to be ashamed of in that."
"I guess not."
"Tell me about your clients. Who's your favorite?"
I laughed. "Is this where I'm supposed to say you?"
"Of course," he said, a smile in his voice.
"I will confess that talking with you doesn't suck sweaty monkey balls."
"Sweaty monkey balls? That's… creative. And gross. I'd hoped I'd rate at least as high as clean man
His words deeply affected me. I expected someone shallow and obsessed with a certain kind of look, but he kept showing more depth and wisdom than I gave him credit for. Which made my feelings for him all the more confusing. "You have a refreshing attitude about women, Mr. Davenport. I wish more men thought the way you do."
He exhaled into the phone. "I think you'd be surprised how many men think like me, at least in regards to this. We're not nearly as hard to please as women like to think. It's women who a re their own harshest critics, fo r reason s I've never understood."
After a long pause, during which time I couldn't help but mentally calculate how much money he'd paid to list en to me breathe, I asked him the question I'd been dying to ask since I found out about his arrest. "Do you have any regrets? Anything you wish you could change about your life?"
"That's a heavy question for so late at night. I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."
I agreed and waited while he found his words.
"I got into a lot of trouble when I was younger. Let's just say growing up in the shadow of my father and g randfather didn't leave much room for innovative thinking. They expected their carbon copy, and I disappointed in every way possible." He inhaled his cigar before continuing. "My solution was to act out. I experimented with drugs and girls. Got into fights for stupid shit and generally made a public nuisance of myself. I'm not proud of it."
"What made you change course?"
"One night, at a bar, a guy came at me with a tire iron. I'd had years of training in Krav Maga. The guy never stood a chance. It was self-defense. I was arrested but quickly released. I thought I'd just banged him up bad, but I found out a few days later… he died from head trauma. His family wanted to press charges, but there were too many witnesses. He was armed, I wasn't. Still, it was the night I decided I didn't want to be that guy."
I couldn't imagine living with the death of someone on my conscience and wondered what it did to his.
"Now fess up, Cat. What's your biggest regret?"
How mu ch did he know about me already? About the real me, not the phone sex operator. I couldn't risk bringing up my real regrets. That I didn't act sooner to save my parents. That I didn't stop the man before he escaped. So I picked something easier to talk about. "I have a lot of regrets, some so old they've grown into something else I can no longer identify. But lately I've wondered how much I'll regret this job, once I've finished my education and am happily married with kids and a career. Will I look back and realize there were other options that I didn't look hard enough to see? Will it scar me in some way that damages me beyond repair, preventing me from creating the life I imagine for my future? So I guess my biggest regret is what might be my biggest future regret, if that makes sense."
"It does," he said. "How do you feel about this job now? Right now, not in five years or ten years, but tonight?"
"I don't know. At first it was really hard, and sometimes it still is, but it's gotten easier. I have some regulars that call in. Guys who seem harmless, lonely. I guess I'm getting comfortable in this role, and that scares me most of all. Who am I becoming that all of this feels normal now?"
"You're adapting to your life circu mstances. That's a healthy response and one that helps you cope. There's nothing to be ashamed of in that."
"I guess not."
"Tell me about your clients. Who's your favorite?"
I laughed. "Is this where I'm supposed to say you?"
"Of course," he said, a smile in his voice.
"I will confess that talking with you doesn't suck sweaty monkey balls."
"Sweaty monkey balls? That's… creative. And gross. I'd hoped I'd rate at least as high as clean man
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