was compelled to be connected to him. His hands on my hips felt totally right and totally foreign at the same time. I didn’t know what to do with them, but I didn’t want them off me, either.
“So?” I asked.
His face, which was looking pretty pleased to have a hold of me, went totally blank. “So?” he asked.
“How am I your problem, exactly?”
“Oh,” he said, remembering, and he flexed his fingers on my waist, exerting just a little bit of pressure. That place down there started throbbing again. I desperately hoped he couldn’t tell somehow, couldn’t feel it through my hip bones.
“It wasn’t so much you,” John said. “It was those other men touching you. They shouldn’t do that.”
“Earth to John,” I said, exasperated. “I’m a stripper. People put money in my underwear. That’s how I make a living. You know this.”
“You should retire,” he said, “tonight. No one needs to touch you again. Except me.” We just looked at each other for a moment. Me, laughing; John, dead serious. This was probably when he was going to ask me to be his mistress.
“I’m not going to ask you to be my mistress, or anything crazy, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said, and laughed a little. I think my face fell a little bit. Not that I wanted him to do that, but he was narrowing the list of things he might be asking me for, and that made me nervous.
“Cruz might not like me being so proprietary with his star this evening,” he said, wistfully dropping his hands from my waist. I felt cold with his hands off of me, and it made me shiver a little. “I have to leave to go back to work. Do you want a ride home? I could take you, or get you a cab?”
“I’m fine,” I said, shaking my head. “I have my car.” And there was no way he was going to see my sad apartment complex. Not only because it was disgusting, but also because he could still turn out to be a freak, like the guy Keisha brought home who offered her a thousand dollars if he could pee on her face. (She let him, by the way.) I didn’t believe that he was crazy, in my heart, but my head wasn’t going to forget years of experience.
“Will I see you again?” I asked. I held my breath. Everybody goes home from Vegas eventually. It was not the real world, and the real world always called all the real people back. While we, the props, the set pieces, stayed here waiting for the next act.
“Tomorrow,” he said. He reached out, grabbed my hand and held it to his lips. “I can’t wait.”
I woke up to sun streaming through my windows and again, a ridiculous smile on my face. I was going to pay for this later. I would pay for letting myself think happy thoughts, for enjoying someone touching me, for letting myself hope for God knows what. When John left, or when he turned out to be recruiting me for some sex ring or whatever horrible alternate ending awaited — this was going to hurt me too much. I would have to learn again not to let my guard down. I would have to learn it again, the hard way. Then I was going to have to close my heart down for the final time so I never ended up like this again, with a silly smile on my face, hoping for something that was never going to happen.
I was berating myself in this fashion while I was pouring my coffee. Then the doorbell rang. I looked through the peephole and it was the same courier, wearing what appeared to be the same clothes as yesterday. Ew.
“You know the drill,” he said through the door. He rang the buzzer and left.
Again, I quickly opened the door, grabbed the package and relocked. This one was much bigger and heavier. I got out my scissors to cut the heavy packaging tape. Inside was a silver backpack, large and heavy. I laughed. So now John wanted me to wear a backpack to work, to complete the schoolgirl look. He really was crazy.
I unzipped the backpack and gasped. What?
Okay. He really was crazy.
The silly smile was long gone from my face as I
“So?” I asked.
His face, which was looking pretty pleased to have a hold of me, went totally blank. “So?” he asked.
“How am I your problem, exactly?”
“Oh,” he said, remembering, and he flexed his fingers on my waist, exerting just a little bit of pressure. That place down there started throbbing again. I desperately hoped he couldn’t tell somehow, couldn’t feel it through my hip bones.
“It wasn’t so much you,” John said. “It was those other men touching you. They shouldn’t do that.”
“Earth to John,” I said, exasperated. “I’m a stripper. People put money in my underwear. That’s how I make a living. You know this.”
“You should retire,” he said, “tonight. No one needs to touch you again. Except me.” We just looked at each other for a moment. Me, laughing; John, dead serious. This was probably when he was going to ask me to be his mistress.
“I’m not going to ask you to be my mistress, or anything crazy, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said, and laughed a little. I think my face fell a little bit. Not that I wanted him to do that, but he was narrowing the list of things he might be asking me for, and that made me nervous.
“Cruz might not like me being so proprietary with his star this evening,” he said, wistfully dropping his hands from my waist. I felt cold with his hands off of me, and it made me shiver a little. “I have to leave to go back to work. Do you want a ride home? I could take you, or get you a cab?”
“I’m fine,” I said, shaking my head. “I have my car.” And there was no way he was going to see my sad apartment complex. Not only because it was disgusting, but also because he could still turn out to be a freak, like the guy Keisha brought home who offered her a thousand dollars if he could pee on her face. (She let him, by the way.) I didn’t believe that he was crazy, in my heart, but my head wasn’t going to forget years of experience.
“Will I see you again?” I asked. I held my breath. Everybody goes home from Vegas eventually. It was not the real world, and the real world always called all the real people back. While we, the props, the set pieces, stayed here waiting for the next act.
“Tomorrow,” he said. He reached out, grabbed my hand and held it to his lips. “I can’t wait.”
I woke up to sun streaming through my windows and again, a ridiculous smile on my face. I was going to pay for this later. I would pay for letting myself think happy thoughts, for enjoying someone touching me, for letting myself hope for God knows what. When John left, or when he turned out to be recruiting me for some sex ring or whatever horrible alternate ending awaited — this was going to hurt me too much. I would have to learn again not to let my guard down. I would have to learn it again, the hard way. Then I was going to have to close my heart down for the final time so I never ended up like this again, with a silly smile on my face, hoping for something that was never going to happen.
I was berating myself in this fashion while I was pouring my coffee. Then the doorbell rang. I looked through the peephole and it was the same courier, wearing what appeared to be the same clothes as yesterday. Ew.
“You know the drill,” he said through the door. He rang the buzzer and left.
Again, I quickly opened the door, grabbed the package and relocked. This one was much bigger and heavier. I got out my scissors to cut the heavy packaging tape. Inside was a silver backpack, large and heavy. I laughed. So now John wanted me to wear a backpack to work, to complete the schoolgirl look. He really was crazy.
I unzipped the backpack and gasped. What?
Okay. He really was crazy.
The silly smile was long gone from my face as I
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