Hello ya'll should join me for a Q&A Session - or just come say hi and lurk - on 16 May 2017, 8PM-10PM Eastern Time Zone (EDT, in the USA). Link is in my profile and on my tumblr. It's not going to be the only chat - I'll have more, so if you're interested, follow this "story" or "Something New" for announcements or check my Tumblr or FFN Profile for dates.
Best part: it's a free, easy chat room with no downloads or registrations required. Accessible from any web browser on PC, Mac, Phone, or Tablet.
It's just a one time thing. It's not like she hasn't had encounters with strangers, at least this one has a credit card on file and a home address. If anything happens there's people that will take care of her. That thought alone gets her to the taxi, but as she reached for the door handle to exit she realized that help would come after. There would be no knight in shining armor if he got rough. No one stronger if boundaries got crossed. And only the threat that someone would clean up the mess stood between her and fouler thoughts. She shimmied to the edge of her seat, careful to exit like she was taught, like a lady even if it was pretend.
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It wasn't at all like she expected. She thought she'd be a silent trophy or politely shake hands and murmur her agreement. The charade started small, she was an old friend from his home town come to visit. Then the plot thickened from what was easy to remember - they had dated at the end of high school - to the elaborate - her chosen profession in art history and her love of fly fishing and camping in Montana. She wasn't just a shiny accessory, she was his fantasy. His sad fantasy that unraveled when the sheets cooled and pillow talk slid into therapy and she learned the troubling fate of his one true love.
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Boiling. If it wasn't so clearly winter outside, she'd think it was a heatwave she's so angry. The transactions read clear as day, only one person would have gotten that account number and blown her credit on some scheme. Only one person would dare thinking he was a few hundred bucks from finally making it in that damned marketing scheme. And now, courtesy if her naive brother, she had creditors calling every hour. She'd already considered a second job, now it was necessary. An evening position in a call center seemed to offer the only option for more than minimum wage.
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They smell different when they cost so much. They don't smell as used or as filthy, but he knows its just well placed perfume from badly mannered men that covers the stench of their sick existence. He almost prefers when they stink of sex and drugs. When no one is going to look twice when they vanish from their street corners. But variety calls him home to his old haunts on Michigan Avenue, where their heels aren't shared with strippers and their hair wafts floral through the evening air.