The first thing they notice are the thin lines across my wrist. It’s always that first. Maybe because I make it a point to place my hands sideways on the table, or slowly stretch my hand for the salt? Maybe because in a twisted way I’m proud there’s something about me that’s different from everyone else? Maybe just because. Sometimes it’s a turn off, most times the opposite. They see it and they immediately start opening up, like it’s some competition. Oh your life was fucked up once upon a time ago? Wait till you hear mine. I always listen, that’s what I’ve always done anyway, allowed people to use me. I sip on the wine or the coke, depends really where the “date” is, and I raise my eyebrows and I laugh and I just, let them talk. I figure, we all spend so much time worrying and caring for people we care about, its nice to every once in a while have someone care about us more for a change; Even if it’s just pretense. Plus, it makes ‘me’ feel good. So all’s fair, I guess.
As we leave the restaurant he places his hand gently on the small of my back. I turn and smile at him, knowing from the suggestive rubbing of his thumb what he wants. The valet hands him his keys and he opens the door for me, guiding me inside.
The most part of the drive to his place, I am tuned out. It’s a skill, learning to pretend-listen, but you learn what you need to. He has a lot to share, don’t they always? The last one I was with had gone on and on about the stock exchange or something. He had shown me pictures of himself with ‘big people’ I was apparently supposed to know. Tired me out so much I was actually relieved when he finally took off my dress. He shouted “fired!” when he came.
I wake up to a throbbing pain in my chest. He is clung on to me, his head rests on my breasts. I rub on his shoulder and pass my fingers through his hair. He squirms, a grin spreading across his cheeks.
“You are amazing”