"Elsie, are you there?" Melinda's grating voice on the line makes me roll my eyes as I answer the phone.
"Yes, Melinda, I'm here. What do you want?" I could tell my voice sounded harsh. Who else would be answering the phone?
"You didn't call. Are you all right?" The way Melinda feigned concern for her girls was amazing. Her whiny coos didn't mesh with her mechanical business woman voice, cold and methodical.
"I'm fine. He still hasn't gotten here yet." I was filing away a rough edge on my fingernail and mentally counting the condoms in my drawer beside the couch.
"He's late." I couldn't tell if she was irritated with me or him but I brushed it off.
"I know," I said, finishing filing my nails and checking my teeth in the bathroom mirror. They had lipstick on them. I rubbed the red smudges off and smiled. I was having a good hair day after sleeping in rag curlers all night, tossing and turning. The big blonde curls were a perfect mixture of whore couture and innocence. I'd gotten ready in record time when Melinda called me 30 minutes before this client was supposed to be here which is barely enough time to apply a thick enough coat of waterproof mascara on a normal day. Had to go lighter on the make up for this one.
"You have another appointment at 5:30 for an all-nighter. Same place as last week."
"That place was a shit hole," I said, remembering watching a cockroach crawl across the lobby last week as I waited for him to arrive.
"It's supposed to be a nice hotel. Do you want me to alert the management?"
"The place has roaches, Melinda. I get paid too much to work in a place with roaches."
"You get paid to have sex. When you start getting paid to review hotels, maybe someone will care, Elsie."
"Right. I have to go, my client is here. I'll call you right back," I said, clicking the end button on my cell phone as the doorbell rang. I buzzed him up and waited at the door for him to knock.
As I opened the door, I was rather startled. The man standing at the door was not someone I was expecting. Not even close. Young. Twenty-five, tops. Designer clothes. Expensive shoes. Perfect sandy colored hair. His skin was creamy and absent of blemishes and his build was thin but muscular. I could tell he was a runner. This never happens; they're never this perfect.
There must be something wrong with him. He's got herpes. He's a wife beater. He drinks the blood of infants. There's always something wrong with the good looking ones.
"Hello," I said, still startled by his appearance. "I'm Elsie." I awkwardly put out a hand for him to shake. He took it briefly and we just stood there for a moment, staring at each other in the hallway of my apartment building.
"Charlie," he said. Deep voice but smooth like expensive chocolate. "You're a lot prettier than I thought you'd be."
"Well, thank you, I guess..." I said, unsure of whether that was a compliment or not.
We stood there for another moment before I realized how completely unprofessional I was being, leaving a client standing in the halls. "Oh God, I'm so sorry. Come in, make yourself comfortable." I stumbled over my words and I stepped aside and let him come in, closing the door behind him as he stepped inside. He looked uncomfortable, arms crossed, shoulders hunched. "Can I get you anything? Bottled water? Beer? Champagne?"
"Um. Water is fine." He seemed lost, standing in the middle of my apartment awkwardly clutching a white envelope in his hands. "Should I give you this now or—" He offered the envelope to me, extending his arm out. I took it from him and walked into the kitchen, pressing "call" on my cellphone to let Melinda know I was fine, while counting the cash before throwing the bills into a drawer with the rest of my money, and grabbing him a bottle of water.
As soon as I got off the phone with Melinda, I headed back into the living room where he looked lost and swallowed by my apartment.
"Here," I said, handing him the bottle, condensation dripping off the clear plastic. I gestured for him to sit down on the couch and he did.
"Thanks," he replied. "I... I've never done anything like this before."
"It's fine," I said. First timer. Nervous and shifty-eyed as if the cops are going to show up at any moment and cart the both of us off to jail.
"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."
"No. I mean, I've never... done... anything... sexual."
A virgin. I knew there was something wrong with him. But he's too good looking to be a virgin. Perhaps he's lacking in the size department.
"Don't worry. We'll take it as slow as you need," I said, bending over and placing a hand on his shoulder. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly. He was looking down my dress, my breasts enclosed by a thin layer of black lace.
