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“He’s too young, and we’re too different,” she said.
Her face was expecting more and became exasperated when Desdemona offered no more. “Okay, so my hubby of the last fifteen years—who was working on his music career while I held down the job and the bills—was sleeping with my assistant and using my money to fund the bullshit.”
Desdemona eyed her. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she said.
Melissa turned her lips downward and shrugged. “I miss my assistant more than my husband. That slut wasreallyorganized,” she said before chuckling.
“You missed your mark with comedy,” she said, sitting back as the bartender set the plate of oysters on the half shell before her.
“I laugh to keep from crying.” Melissa eyed the plate of meatballs topped with slices of crusty bread that was set before her as well.
Desdemona squeezed lemon and dashed hot sauce across the oysters. “Whatever it takes,” she said.
“I agree.”
They fell silent as they enjoyed their food.
She wondered what this stylish and smart ad executive, who probably had a degree from Wharton or the like, would think about having dinner and cocktails with a high-school dropout, former prostitute, and high-end madam.
“Good sex?”
“Huh?” Desdemona asked.
“The younger guy. Was the sex good?’ Melissa asked.
She had a heated memory of him gripping her hair as he stroked her from behind until she was clutching wildly at the sheets, sweating like a fiend, heart racing, and crying out with her explosive release.
“Whose pussy?” he had asked.
“Yours,” she had moaned before capturing the sheets between her teeth.
Desdemona pressed her thighs together as the bud nestled between the lips of her intimacy throbbed to life. “Great sex,” she said.
I taught him well.
“Give the kid a chance,” Melissa said, swiping at a crumb of bread from the corner of her glossy lips. “If the worst he has going for him is he’s younger than you, then enjoy the ride until the wheels fall off.”
“It’d be easier if I didn’t love him,” Desdemona said, surprised that she admitted that to this woman who was just a little more than a stranger to her.
“Ohhhh,” Melissa said, drawing it out in understanding.
Desdemona took a sip of her drink.
“Well, you gave up yours and somebody took mine, but we found each other across the hall,” Melissa said. “So, here’s to friendship.”
Desdemona smiled, raising her glass to hers. “To friendship,” she agreed, liking the sound and feel of that.
* * *
Cha-ching. Cha-ching. Cha-ching.
Over the rim of her reading glasses, Desdemona eyed her phones where they were charging. She was taking a timed practice test ahead of her actual GED test the next morning, but couldn’t bring herself to turn off her phone. She regretted that.
For once she just wanted to put herself and her needs first. And she needed to study because she needed to get her GED. Attending college was her next goal.
But old patterns were hard to break.
Cha-ching. Cha-ching. Cha-ching.
