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"There are three rules when you get into this line of work that you have to live by. One, you keep your personal life separate. Two, you never reveal your true identity. And three, don't get close to a client. You separate that shit, because all these men want is sex and money. That’s it. The client is never going to leave his wife, and if he does, it sure as hell isn't going to be for you." She pauses to lick her lips. "Everything is a lie and has to stay that way because some clients can get a little obsessive. I know a girl who fakes a New Zealand accent so well you would never think she's from the States. Yes, I use a fake name. I go by Natalia and they think it's exotic. Also, ignore the increasing number of men you sleep with. Do not count them, do not think about it. Just count your bills all the way to the bank and that's it. It's like a normal one-night stand, but you’re being paid for it. That’s how I see it."
"Do you get to pick your men?"
"No. They're paying, so they pick. I just go where I'm told."
I grimace. "I bet they're all old and ugly. I don't know if I can willingly fuck that, Nat. I need a little attraction." I hold my hand up and pinch my fingers together.
She laughs. "That's why you have your vodka glasses on."
Now it's my turn to laugh.
"You'd be surprised, though. Most of the clients are middle-aged, and yes there are much older ones, but they're not what you're thinking at all. Not the high-paying ones. A few have drug problems and want to do rails off your naked body. Some have strange fetishes. They come from all different backgrounds and for the most part they’ve got their shit together. They're well-dressed, and work out too, but there are a few who could lay off the carbs." She gives me a no-bullshit look. "Money talks, girl, and if a client has it, and he's invited into Sanctuary Cove, Madam Christine isn't going to say no to anything. There's a lady for every client's needs."
I blink. "Have you been with all of them?"
"Oh God, no. Usually when a client finds one lady he likes, he requests her often." She pauses to apply a soft pink lipstick. "Listen. I won't push you into this, but the offer is on the table. I know Madam Christine would love to have you. You have the looks and the body and you're not afraid to put out. I will pay for your identification card, your STD test—"
"An STD test?" I ask.
"Oh, yes. We're tested before we start taking clients and then regularly after that. So are the men. Using protection is ingrained into your skull but you have the option to forego it. I never forego. Wear a rubber or you're not passing go."
"I mean, that makes sense, but just the thought of catching a disease is not on my to-do list."
"In addition to paying for that," Natalie continues, ignoring my disease jab. "I'll give you five thousand dollars. No. Ten thousand—"
"Nope." I shut her down. "Not going to happen."
"Just shut up and listen to me. I'll give you ten thousand. Put five aside for bills and Grammy since you'll be quitting those two jobs of yours that you’re going nowhere with. Take Grammy out to eat and buy her something nice, I don't care. I'll take you shopping with the rest of the money and help you get new clothes. You can't be wearing Goodwill cast-offs. You need Versace, Prada, a little Diane and Channel. That shit costs money, and as you can see, I have plenty of money, so take it."
It’s almost too good to pass up when she lays it out like that.
Natalie stands up and grabs her purse, then slips her beige coat on. She buckles it around her waist and looks absolutely stunning. A total babe. Her face is on point—natural yet sensually seductive—and her ridiculously tempting tall heels match her coat and dress.
"Would you call those fuck-me heels?" I jokingly ask.
She glances down, then back at me. "These are 'don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me' heels."
Shaking my head, I follow her out of her room. "I can't believe I ever thought you were only a shot girl dressing up like that."
She chuckles, and then says, "I mean, it's not impossible. Lots of shot girls dress up like this. I feel bad for lying to you about it, though."
I brush it off. I would've lied too.
"Natalie." I call her name as she reaches the door. "Sink or swim, right?" I say when she looks over her shoulder at me.
"For me, tonight, it's spit or swallow." She winks and gives me two air kisses before she leaves me standing here with my jaw dropped.
Ten
I'm on my way to my last class when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I take it out and smile at the name on the display.
"Hey, Grammy," I answer.
"My sweetie, Aubrey. Just checking in to see how you're doing."
My heart softens. I love her so much.
"I'm walking to class right now actually. Not excited for the weekend because of the little monsters I'm going to be stuck with. How are you doing?"
