"Well, it's probably not safe to park on the side of this road like this. I suggest you head into town and have a cuppa and things will be on the up and up."
I wasn't sure of his logic but decided to take his advice. I had hoped there would be a pharmacy open on a Sunday and I could at least ensure I wasn't carrying Cindy's sibling. This was the angriest I had ever seen my friend. During lockdown we spent hours and hours talking about our lives, our dreams and our regrets. Cindy had helped me realise that my parents were never going to be who I needed them to be and I knew that her mother had traits that were hard to live with.
Not that I could ever imagine anyone, even my mother, having sex with my father, I knew that if I was in Cindy's situation and I discovered my bestfriend had been sleeping with my father I would be mortified too.
As with many country towns, the pharmacy was indeed closed for the day. I grabbed a coffee and decided to keep driving to give Cindy and Garry some space. I had seen Cindy's anger the year before when a professor hinted she had plagiarised an essay. Cindy had written the most scathing email to the professor and I convinced her not to send it, but for weeks, she would vent to me about how he had it in for her and had twisted it that he was jealous she wouldn't sleep with him for extra marks.
It was failed logic, but I knew that once Cindy got an idea in her head it was hard for her to back down and stop herself from catastrophising the situation and inventing scenarios that weren't there. Cindy had told me that her dad was the only one who knew how to deescalate her temper and I hoped that he could help her see that perhaps it wasn't my fault entirely. Then again, this was a man who thought it was sexy to think he was pumping a baby inside me, so I wondered if he was in the right frame of mind to help either.
Arriving back at college, word had spread that Cindy's mother had died. A few people wanted to know how I was and if I had heard how Cindy was doing. I dodged the questions and shut my door, putting in my earbuds, turning on some heavy metal music and closing my eyes as tears streamed down my face.
I was woken by my weekly call from my parents. I explained that Cindy's mother had died suddenly (they would have said she was a sinner if they knew she had killed herself) and they assured me Cindy and her father were in their prayers. I had nothing in common with these people apart from DNA, and even then I often questioned if I had been adopted. They were judgemental and self-righteous. They chose to proselytise in a foreign country trying to indoctrinate locals into a white worldview that was so foreign to their customs. I pitied the people who encountered them and hoped they could see through the snake oil I felt my parents were peddling.
My parents never really talked of love, no "I love you's" bantered as we farewelled each other or talked on the phone. I hadn't had a horrible childhood compared to many, but I wondered what it might have been like if I had been raised by people who showed affection to each other.
At times I wondered if I had started stripping in rebellion to my parents or if I did just want to explore a more sensual side to myself. Dance had always been an outlet for me and one of the few ways I was permitted to show emotion. When I started as Vanessa I was adamant she wasn't me, but I never really stopped to wonder if she was me trying to escape after all.
When I had arrived at my room I had texted Cindy, but she had not replied. I tried again and after half an hour there was still no answer. I texted Garry who told me Cindy needed time to process what had happened and that the funeral would be the following Thursday, and he hoped I could make it.
Marilyn and I had a talk at the club that evening and she sent me home telling me that my head wasn't in the right place to work that night. I explained that I didn't think I could work Thursday, and she told me that Friday and Saturday were my nights for the week.
Driving to the funeral I did not know what to expect. I had not heard from Cindy at all, and she had blocked me on social media. I had also not heard from Garry, which had not bothered me and, although I had forgotten to purchase the morning-after pill, it had not mattered as my period had arrived the day before.
Regardless of what had happened with Cindy, I knew starting a relationship with Garry was a terrible idea. He had met Vanessa, not Libby and Libby was not yet ready to turn into a sugarbaby. I had made progress in reinventing myself after I had escaped from the watchful eye of my parents, but I still did not really know who I was.
It was a solemn service led by a funeral director with no mention of religion and different from the funerals my father had taken that I had sat through growing up. I sat at the back. Garry smiled at me as he and Cindy walked behind the casket at the end of the service, but Cindy did not notice me.
"Libby, thanks so much for coming, please join us at home for a drink and something to eat." Garry had sought me out after the service.
"I don't think so, but thanks. Oh, and my period arrived yesterday."
"Oh. I see."
"Get the fuck out of here you fucking bitch!" Cindy had seen me, and it was clear she was still angry. "Who invited you anyway?"
"I did and Luce, really, Libby's done nothing wrong here."
"Whatever! Just get the fuck out of my life."
"I'm so sorry, Cindy, I really am. Can we talk?"
"Can't you hear what I'm saying?"
"Ok, ok. I'll go and I won't contact you and I won't contact your father and if he even tries to come to the club I'll ignore him, but hey, I thought we were friends?"
"Get out of my fucking face, bitch!"
People were staring at us despite us being in the car park and I unlocked my car and drove off.
~*~*~*~*~
Cindy did not contact me. Marilyn had been right, and I was a natural stripper in the end. I'd work four nights per week, including Friday and Saturday and before long I was bringing in more money than I had ever earned in my life.
I never made the same mistake again in a back room with a client that I did with Garry, but I was not averse to meeting up with guys outside the club for no-strings-attached sex. No one ever took me to the same highs that Garry did, but I realised that that was different, and I never spent more than a night with these men.
Towards the end of the year, I was approached by a client at the club who told me he was the best man for his mate and wanted to know if I would be the entertainment for their buck's party. I discovered it was for the groom and the three groomsmen only and in a suite in a hotel in the city. They were prepared to give me $5,000 for the night and would ensure they all wore condoms.
I took this guy's details and told him I'd think about it. I knew I was prostituting myself. I had saved up enough that I wouldn't have to work the following year and I could focus on my master's that would make me a teacher, but I also knew the five grand would go a long way to ensuring I didn't have to work over summer and could relax and rent out a beach house for myself instead of staying with my dreaded Aunt again.
Early on I had realised the casual sex I was having with the guys I met at the club was emotionless. It was a physical act and there was no real connection. I might as well been taking money from them for sex instead of a lap-dance. I still felt sensual and sexy, but there was no real connection with any of them. I figured this one night would be similar.
The guy who organised the buck's night told me his name was Phil. I suspected he was married from the time I danced for him at the club, but I figured my principles had stooped so low by this stage that I did not want to question things. I also felt uneasy about sleeping with a groom in the lead-up to his wedding. But they were paying for a service, and I was simply providing it, or more to the point Vanessa was.
As Libby I was still confused as to who I wanted to become and what path I wanted to take in my life. I was enjoying my studies and looking forward to some teaching placements the following year, but Vanessa was the sexual being. Libby was still boring and predictable and so incredibly alone.
My periods had never been super regular, and, during a check-up with a doctor, I decided I would go on the pill to ensure I wasn't caught out at work. I ensured all my hookups used condoms, but I also recognised that if I ever got carried away in the moment as I had with Garry, I would be covered, at least as far as pregnancy risk went.
It appeared Phil was the main organiser of the buck's night. One of the groomsmen was happy to see me strip but told the others there was no way he was cheating on his wife with a stripper at a buck's night and went and slept on the couch. The groom was quite drunk and tried to tell his friend's he didn't want to cheat on his fiancée, but they pressured him into receiving a blow job as Phil ploughed me from behind.
These men did not care about my pleasure. I was merely an orifice for them. I drew the line at anal, although Phil tried before I told him I would leave if he tried it again. The other groomsman was eager to have a go, but again, thought nothing of my pleasure. Phil and his mate convinced me to drag the groom to bed. He was so drunk he did not know what was happening.
As I lay there I knew I did not like what Vanessa had become. Stripping was one thing, but prostitution was something else entirely. I knew a few girls at the club worked in brothels as well, but this was not me. Vanessa had started as a dancer and explored her sexuality, but the truth was, Vanessa and Libby had almost morphed into the same person and I needed to decide who that person was.
In the morning, he woke up and, half asleep and spooning me, started having sex with me, sex without a condom. He called me Trina and kept telling me I was the sexiest woman he knew and could not wait to walk down the aisle with me. When he woke up and realised it wasn't his fiancée, he looked shocked, but I simply rolled him onto his back and straddled him as I brought us both to climax. He asked me not to tell anyone and I promised his secret was safe with me, but I felt immense guilt.
It was my last night stripping and definitely my last night taking money for sex. I decided Vanessa was no more. From now on I was going to discover who in the world Libby Cartwright actually was.
