"Are you willing to travel?"
I consider her question. "I don't see why not, if it doesn’t interfere with my classes. Is that a common thing?"
She doesn't answer me. "I'll text you with your next job. Do you have any questions?"
"No," I say and stand. "Thank you for the second chance. You won’t be sorry."
Right before I leave, she calls my name, and I look over my shoulder.
"He did say you can suck cock better than anyone else here. Trust me, he’s been with most of the girls, so that's a compliment." Her lips twitch. She seems proud.
At least I’d done something right.
Before I jump back on the subway, I stop at this little Dominican place and order the most popular dish on their menu to go. I pay for it and walk outside, and hand the Styrofoam container to the woman sitting in the same place as before, along with a crisp hundred dollar bill. So many people go hungry in this city and my heart bleeds for them.
Nearly an hour later, I'm finally sitting down to eat with Natalie.
"She said that?" she asks, listening intently. "I mean, she's usually hard on everyone at first until they find their own way."
I nod. "What do I say to that? Like, thanks? I'm glad to know I give a good blowie? I think I need to work on my O game. Apparently I don't know how to fake it." I exhale, frustrated. "Nat, he sounded like he had an entire carton of Newport cigarettes for breakfast. He was grunting and making noises like he was dying. It made my skin crawl. How do you fake it to that when you keep looking over your shoulder to see if he's about to croak?"
Natalie is laughing so hard she has tears in her eyes.
"That's terrible," she says when she catches her breath. "I guess you just focus on the money. You're getting paid to perform. The better you are, the more you get. And once you start raking in the dough, you'll want more and you'll work even harder to get it. It's addicting."
I glance across the street and watch someone jaywalk. "Did you feel dirty after? Shameful?"
She nods, cupping her hair behind her ear. "Yeah, I did, but that's normal. It took, probably, a handful of times for the grime to wash away? I mean, it doesn't ever go away completely. It just gets easier. Listen, for the most part, they're clean-cut men, not dirty slobs, so the way I see it, it could always be worse."
I rub my arms, holding myself. "You have a point. I just hated how I felt last night when I got home. I stayed in the shower until it ran cold."
Natalie takes a sip of her water. "That sounds about right. It'll get easier…unless you don't want it to?"
"No, I do. I can do it again. Sex isn't a big deal to me. It’s just sex, you know? No-strings-attached sex, like any other time, just cash is involved. It shouldn't change anything, but it does," I say, and she nods in agreement. "I just have to not be so nervous and panicky…and be a little dirty. I think I was focusing too much on the rules and what I should and shouldn't be doing."
"A lot of girls don't return, which is understandable. It's not for the faint of heart. Like you kind of have to have low principles to do this."
"Or be poor and struggling and not want to worry for once."
She tips her glass of water toward me. The ice cubes clink together. "That too. Why do you think so many women strip? The money is good and quick, and they want security."
As we eat, I muse over Natalie's words. I wonder if it'll ever get easier, if I'll get to a point where I don't feel as disgusting afterward. At least a little. I can't imagine anyone ever feels normal working in the sex trade. I'd think one would feel shame even long after they stop. But I also think it could give a sense of strength having gone through a chapter of their life no one is truly proud of to talk about and still come out on top from it.
"I think I've come up with a solution. If I don't feel differently after three jobs, I'm going to walk away and just go back to working myself to the bone rather than boning everyone else to take care of myself and Grammy."
"If that's what you need to do, then do it. I think it's a good idea, honestly. What are you going to do about this O issue you have?" she asks, dipping warm bread into the seasoned hummus.
"No clue. Practice?"
Her eyes light up and she's grinning from ear to ear. "Can I be there to laugh at you while you try?"
I bundle up my straw wrapper and throw it at her. "You're an asshole. Of course."
The check comes and for once I pay for it with ease. It makes me feel good that I can, then we head back to our apartment together.
Once we're in and the door is locked, I take out an old book and Natalie helps me carve out a deep square for my new money. Eight thousand dollars, just like Christine promised. I wrap the hundreds in stacks of thousands and use a black marker to write the number one on each band to represent my first job, then I place the banded stacks in the book and close it.
Living in a city rich with sin and opportunity, I was always under the impression that if I can make it here, I can make it anywhere.