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“I do like you, Mr. Smith.”
I bite my lip. “Do you mean that?”
“No.”
I clutch my chest like she can somehow see my fake hurt. “Is it because I didn’t tip as much as your highroller clients?”
“Yes.”
“Goddammit,” I laugh. “What’s the most someone has sent you?” I open the app as we talk and send her the “bouquetof flowers” gift, which is equivalent to a fifty. I would have spent more than that if I went to the steakhouse with the sales guys anyway. At least this is better conversation.
“They’re beautiful. Thank you,” she says, but her voice is dry as fuck. The ungratefulness is so fucking alluring. She knows it too.
I clear my throat extra loud, letting her know I still want an answer to the question. “So?”
“Two grand.”
“What the fuck,” I whisper to myself. “You’re really wasting your time talking to me then, huh? Was that a one time thing or consistent?”
“Are you interested in becoming a phone sex worker, Mr. Smith?” she asks with a flirty giggle.
“Do you think I’d be good at it?”
“Hm, I don’t know. I’d need a sample. Tell me how you’d fuck me.”
“Molly,” I exhale. “You’re not going to get me that easy. How many calls did you say most guys last again?” My question sounds desperate, which is fitting considering how desperate I am right now. Why am I even fighting this?
“Most? Or the longest? Because you don’t really seem like the type to be satisfied unless you’re number one.”
Fuck, now I have to last. “Fine, longest.”
“You sure? Because you only have one free call left.”
“See, now how am I supposed to believe what you tell me? Are you going to tell me longer just so I keep having to pay to call in?”
“Probably.”
“More than three?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“But if I never call back after the third call, then I technically still win, right?”
“You’ll call back,” she says confidently. “Unless…”
“Unless?”
“Unless you stop being a little bitch and tell that woman you’re in love with her.”
“Hey now,” I laugh. “Don’t go putting fucking ideas in my head. My life is good right now. I don’t need to go around fucking it up.”
“Will life still be good when she gets tired of waiting around for you and finds someone else?”
Her words are like a knife to the heart. “Is she happy?”
“Hypothetically? Yes. Will you be?”
“Her happiness is the only thing that matters.”
